Anne Marie has bullied Cameron for a long time. Suddenly she finds something about him she likes.

Anne Marie stood watching Cameron, the feminized boy, who had been shoved into the middle of a circle of hostile peers at school. He hadn’t actually done anything to deserve this, but no one much liked him. He wasn’t very big or tall, was too pretty for a boy, and was kind of smart, all of which made him an easy target. After classes today a group of the girls had grabbed him and marched him into the girls’ restroom, stripped him and forced him into a mid-thigh, girly dress, made him up and braided his long hair. Now he was standing in the circle, rather nonchalantly, she thought. Being surrounded, there was no way for him to escape. People were hurling insults at him, and he was…examining his nails. He might as well have been alone there, for all the attention he was paying to his tormentors. She had to give him points on Cool. Pretty soon the bullies were tiring of the game, since he wasn’t reacting. Pictures were being taken, and probably posted online, but he wasn’t hiding. He hadn’t responded with one word to the taunts, the nasty epithets or the predictable stupid questions. She was beginning to rethink her impressions of him. Maybe he was cooler than she had always thought?

The crowd started to drift away, since they weren’t having their prurient interests satisfied, their need to feel superior gratified. It just seemed as if they were standing around watching any girl. The humiliation factor would have to be enough. Surprisingly there was no violence.

Anne Marie didn’t know exactly what she was feeling. She was experiencing a profound change in her attitudes. She had to admit she admired the way Cameron kept his cool, and she thought he looked really pretty as a girl, which stirred something inside her. She wouldn’t mind getting to know a girl like that.

As Cameron sort of peripherally saw the opportunity to get away growing he began to plan his next move, which was mainly to get his clothes back. He’d go back into the girls’ restroom—no one was likely to be there at this hour—and see if they were still there, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

In the game of survival he was pleased that his tactic of ignoring his tormentors had worked as well as it did. Not giving them attention was like denying a fire its supply of oxygen. He’d consciously made himself less interesting. He had considered posing provocatively for the people taking pictures, just to show a lack of humiliation, but had decided no attention at all would work better. The situation still scared him though. A group of people with nothing but hate in their hearts, and the potential for violence. He was really sick to death of being hurt and bullied, and of the school doing nothing about it. Getting away somewhere so he could vent…scream out about the unfairness of it all was an appealing dream.

There was still one girl left, and he recognized her as Anne Marie Brent, one of his weekly oppressors. Her head was tilted and she had an odd look on her face, but he couldn’t be bothered with paying any attention to her, other than to see if she was a threat. He looked around once more, and casually made his move towards the restroom. It didn’t look like anyone was following him. Inside the restroom he looked everywhere possible, even the trash, but as he had half expected, the clothes were nowhere to be found.

As he backed out of the last stall he turned around to find Anne Marie standing there. He hadn’t heard her come in, and wondered what new torture was coming his way.

“They’re not here,” she said.

“Um, what?”

“Your clothes. I don’t know where they went, but I doubt you’ll find them in here.”

“Ah, fine, whatever.” He made to push past her to leave.

“You look really pretty, Cammie,” she said.

He rolled his eyes. “No offense, but could you just please leave me alone?”

When she didn’t respond he slipped past her and went out the door, leaving Anne Marie rather vexed. She was trying to be nice to him for a change!

Cameron hadn’t actually taken a look at himself, or he might have realized Anne Marie was right. So he felt very conspicuous as he made his way through the empty halls to his locker. He picked up his knapsack, resigning himself to the idea of walking home looking like a girl. He only hoped no one recognized him, so he could get home in one piece.

-o0o-

Anne Marie stood in the restroom for a little while, looking in the mirror and thinking about this change in her attitude toward Cameron. It was hard, but she had to admit she was very attracted to the female version of him. Somehow he now looked…right, or normal or something, at least to her. She had no idea why that would be. She was still a little hurt that he blew her off. Not every boy got to interact with someone as good-looking and popular as she was. It took her a little while, but after a bit of honest soul searching she had to admit that there was no reason at all for him to trust her, not even with a compliment. She hadn’t been among his worst offenders, but she had made fun of him and made life harder for him. Now she had to somehow make him see that she was no longer interested in giving him grief. Well, as long as he would let her get to know him, that is. Wait—no. That would be like blackmail, and she wasn’t going to be like that to him anymore.

-o0o-

Cameron slunk home. Every time a car or person passed him he’d try and walk a little more like a girl. This was humiliating, and what would his mom say? Would she finally believe him that he was being bullied? Or would she think he actually wanted to dress this way? You could never count on her for support.

He had let his guard down a bit while thinking, and now he saw two beefy jerks (‘beefy jerks… beef jerkies! Heh heh,’ he thought, enjoying the wordplay) were following him. They’d been part of the circle of bullies earlier, and apparently hadn’t been satisfied with his ignoring them. How was he supposed to escape them, especially in this getup?

With very little difficulty they quickly overtook him, one of them seized him from behind and roughly held his arms back. The other one got in a soft punch to Cameron’s belly, a kind of appetizer on the pain menu. But before they could really get going, a car screeched to a halt there, and Anne Marie jumped out. “Hey, Anne Marie,” said one, “Lookie what we got.” She smiled at him. Cameron thought the worst was about to happen when she lifted her hand and pepper sprayed both boys, who quickly let go of Cameron in order to grab their faces. “What the hell did you do that for?!” one choked out. “There will be no more bullying of Cameron,” she answered. “She—I mean he, is under my protection.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to her car.

“Couldn’t she –cough!– have just told us that??” he could hear behind them. “Really! Say it, –cough!- don’t spray it!” They were laughing even as they cried.

Cameron was beyond stunned to have been rescued by her, and meekly followed her into her car, still trying to catch his breath from the gut punch.

“Did they hurt you?”

“Uh, I might have some bruises,” he panted, “but no, not really. Thank you, but why did you save me?” He looked at her curiously.

“I’ve decided to…change my attitude. I want to apologize for being so mean to you all this time,” she said, and glanced over at him. “Cameron, I meant it, earlier, when I said you looked pretty.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. A guy is not supposed to be pretty, although he knew kids called him “pretty boy” as well as other, much more derogatory terms, all the time. He didn’t trust her enough to believe she had had a change of heart, but he had to play this carefully, so as not to rile her up.

She could tell he didn’t really believe her.

“Pull down the mirror in the visor and look at yourself.”

He did so, and was shocked at the image he saw there. How in the world could they have made him look like that? He was forced to admit that Anne Marie was right.

“Whoa…” he said, a bit overwhelmed with his image. He had no desire to look pretty. “Ah, okay. I see your point. Um…where are you taking me?” he asked, a bit apprehensively. There was no reason to believe she had turned over a new leaf. The rescue could have been staged.

“I’ll take you home if you tell me where you live.”

Deciding that, all things considered, it might be better if she didn’t know exactly where he lived, he directed her to Oakwood street, two blocks away from his house and asked to be let out in front of a house in a direct line to his, hoping he could just cut through the back yards.

As Anne Marie drove, she looked over at him as often as she could. He looked so nice dressed like that! She wished she could reach over and pet him a little, but she’d have to take this whole thing slow, or she’d frighten him off.

On Oakwood street he told her the address—the same number as his—where she stopped. “Um, thanks for the ride.”

She smiled at him. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

‘Not if I see you first,’ went through his mind.

She drove off and he darted through the yards to Crestwood street and home.

-o0o-

Once inside, he was relieved to find his mom wasn’t there. He struggled out of the clothes, and used his mom’s cold cream to get the makeup off. He pulled out the braids and put his hair back in the usual low ponytail. Then he couldn’t decide whether to burn the clothes or just throw them out; he honestly wanted nothing to do with them. He sure didn’t want his mom to find them! For the time being he put them in a paper bag hidden in his closet.

He really didn’t know what to think about Anne Marie. It was great that she had saved him from a beating, but he knew he couldn’t trust her. A person doesn’t bully someone for years and then suddenly stop… do they?

-o0o-

For the next week, for some reason, no one at school bothered him, which almost made him paranoid, waiting for the shoe to drop. There was snickering when some people saw him, no doubt due to photos of him in drag likely posted on social media. On Friday, as he was leaving school, Anne Marie suddenly appeared, startling him and putting him on edge.

“Hey Cameron, do you have some time?”

“Uh, what for?” he asked, very leery.

“I’d like to take you out for a snack or ice cream, whatever you want.”

Did she just invite him out?? He looked up to the sky, to see if there was an alien up there with some sort of ray that distorted reality. Nope. Nothing.

“Why in the world would you want to go out with me, or me with you? I mean, I appreciate you bailing me out last week, but you helped make my life miserable for years.”

“I know I did, and I’m very sorry about that. That was before I saw something in you that I found interesting and attractive. If you noticed, no one bothered you this week, and that’s because I told them all to cut it out. So… how about it?”

He stood there looking at her. “I don’t get it, Anne Marie. How can you go from treating someone like crap to wanting to go on a date with them with no warning? And I’m just supposed to forget the abuse?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it,” she began. “Last week when you were in that dress I was admiring how you were keeping your cool in the middle of a bunch of bullies, and studying you, when suddenly I realized I was, like, finding you attractive,” she said, a bit embarrassed about admitting it.

Cameron processed that, and then the light bulb went on. “So wait, that means you found me attractive, like, as a girl!”

“It’s not as simple as that,” she explained. “Of course I knew you were a boy, but the combination…the idea of a pretty girl being a boy really appealed to me.”

“I see,” he said, not seeing at all. “So I’m not all dragged up now, and haven’t the least desire to put girls’ clothes on again. Why are you still interested?”

“Cameron, I’m smart enough to know that while the outer wrapping can be pretty, it’s the actual person inside the wrapping that’s where the real interest lies.”

“But…” he floundered for words. “I’ve always been this person!”

“True, but until last week I was too stupid to really take a good look at you. So, to kinda make it up to you I want to try and get to know you and see if my feeling is right.” She really felt like she was baring her soul to him, which wasn’t that easy, even though she had no lack of self-confidence.

He was shocked that she had admitted being wrong and ‘stupid.’ That was very unexpected. “Uh, well, okay,” he relented. “It still seems really, um, fishy to me.” She seemed very sincere, but he was uneasy. He resolved to stay on guard. Truthfully he didn’t know how well turning her down would have gone. He also hadn’t realized she was so powerful. All bullying had stopped on her say-so? Wow! Yet, with all his experience, it still felt like a setup.

-o0o-

She drove them to Draegers, an old-fashioned dessert shop in town, and they sat across from each other in a booth. She treated him to a sundae, and got one herself, and they just… talked. He found she didn’t seem purely evil, as he had formerly thought. Also, she was a lot smarter than he would have suspected. She even had a sense of humor.

She decided he was a lot more interesting than she initially had guessed. Instead of just some hopelessly nerdy kid, he liked some of the same music she did, was a reader, and informed on a wide variety of subjects, and loved to draw. He was unable to stifle his love of wordplay and puns, and she had to groan once or twice.

After a while Cameron started to relax a little bit when she didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t help wondering if that was a mistake.

She drove him ‘home’ again, and when she stopped she said, “Maybe we can do this again?”

He turned to her. “Listen, Annie Marie, I admit I had a nice time with you today, and thanks for the ice cream, but I really find it hard to trust you. I feel like if I let my guard down I’ll get sucker-punched.”

She thought it over. “I guess I can understand that, but maybe as time goes by you’ll learn I’m not all bad, especially if you give me a fair chance. Something about this desire to get to know you is kinda making me grow up.”

He stood in the driveway as she drove away, and waved. When she was out of sight he ran between the yards to get to his own street. Anne Marie did seem nice, but he also knew what she was capable of. He also couldn’t help wondering what would happen when the other bullies found out she was trying to get to know him. It seemed like that could lead to a whole new world of pain. On the one hand she did seem like an interesting person. On the other hand, being her friend was like striking up an acquaintance with a cobra, not knowing when it might lash out, fangs bared.

-o0o-

When his mother got home that evening she had a funny look on her face. She didn’t say much until the two of them were sitting down to dinner.

“One of my co-workers showed me something interesting today on social media. Can you guess what it was?”

Cameron rolled his eyes. “Yes, I think I can. Was it a picture of your son being bullied and humiliated?”

“Didn’t look like bullying to me. Just looked like a pretty girl looking at her nails. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I never know whether you’re going to believe me!” he said, with some heat. “I’ve been bullied for years, and you always seem to think I’m making it up! Or you tell me to suck it up. The day that picture was taken a group of about eight girls grabbed me, forced me into the girls restroom, stripped me and got me into that getup. If I had done that to any of them, they would be screaming sexual assault at the very least, and I would have been expelled! Maybe even jailed.”

“Are you telling me the truth? You don’t look very unhappy in the picture.”

His jaw dropped. “THIS is why I didn’t tell you! You never believe me! I’m not sure what it would take for you to believe your own child, who is not a liar. Slashes from a knife? A bullet hole? A black eye? Or would you think I did that to myself?? Thanks so much for your loving support!” he shouted with the maximum amount of sarcasm possible. He got up from the table and stormed back to his room, shutting the door.

His mother remained at the table, open-mouthed. Had she really been that bad? No, she couldn’t have been! Cameron was probably exaggerating. Having grown up with only a sister, she had always been under the impression that all boys could take care of themselves, completely ignoring the fact of Cameron’s short stature and lack of muscles. It had been a great day when her bully of an ex-husband left the house for good, but at the same time he left behind a bad feeling about males in general. She wouldn’t admit this to anyone…and hardly even to herself, but she was looking forward to the time when Cameron went off to college or moved out and she’d have the place to herself and wouldn’t have to deal with any males at all.

-o0o-

That went just as badly as Cameron had expected. He knew his mother didn’t really like men, thanks to his big jerk of a father. For so long he hoped she’d make an exception in that attitude for her own son, who was nothing like his father, but evidently not. Maybe it was time to see if he could find somewhere else to live. Would Aunt Rachel let him live with her? She had always seemed sympathetic to him… and there were only two years of high school left. His mom would probably be happy not to have to deal with him anymore.

With that in mind, Thursday after school he took the bus to Aunt Rachel’s place. She had also been married, but had been widowed and left comfortably off. To keep herself occupied she had a part-time job three days a week. She welcomed Cameron inside and gave him a quick hug.

“This is unexpected, Cam, but I’m happy to see you.”

That made him smile. So few people were happy to see him.

“Thanks, it’s good to see you too. I, um, wanted to get your advice.”

She looked at him in appraisal. “Let’s go sit down. Do you want a drink?”

“Oh, just water, thanks.”

She got two waters, and they settled down in the den.

“So tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Well, I think you know I’ve been bullied for a long time at school?”

She nodded yes.

“So a couple weeks ago these girls grabbed me, forced me into the girls’ restroom and got me into drag. Then they pulled me out so that everyone could make fun of me.”

She looked at him sympathetically. She knew he’d probably make a very pretty girl.

“I decided to mostly ignore them, and it didn’t take long before they wore themselves out and left. I went back in the restroom and of course my clothes were gone. This one girl, Anne Marie, followed me in, and I thought she was going to hit me or something (she’s always bullied me) but instead she complimented me. I got my bag from my locker and started home, but two great big dumb football players followed me and were just starting to hit me when Anne Marie pulled up in her car, got out and pepper-sprayed them!”

“This sounds awful, Cam. Can’t the school do anything about it?”

“They have always ignored it. I don’t know if it’s because a lot of the guys are on the sports teams, or what, but they never do a thing.”

“Your mother should go in there and give them a piece of her mind!”

“See, that’s the main part of the problem—she never believes me when I tell her I’ve been bullied. She either thinks I’m lying or I should ‘act like a man’ and just take it! It’s driving me nuts! I have had it with her!”

“Do you want me to talk to her for you?”

“I don’t think it would do any good,” he said. “What I wanted to ask…” he said, and stopped. It wasn’t easy to ask a favor as big as this.

She nodded encouragingly.

“Well, I wondered if you might let me live here with you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she sat back. “Oh my. I was not expecting that. You do realize she has legal custody of you?”

“Yeah, but I’m sorry to say I don’t think she even likes me. I think she’d be glad to be rid of me.”

“Oh Cam, you shouldn’t say that. I know she can be cold towards men, but—”

“She’s more than cold, Aunt Rachel! My stupid oaf of a father made her hate all men. She lumps me in with them without even considering who I am! I’m just…really tired of it. Like just now, when I told you about that incident, you looked like you believed me. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that!”

She looked at him sympathetically. “You poor kid. Yes, I did know how she feels about men, but like you I thought she’d see you differently. I guess I could talk to her and find out how she’d feel about you moving in with me. I wouldn’t mind some company, and you and I have always gotten along well.”

“I would be really grateful,” he gave her a sad smile.

“Do you want to try staying here this weekend? Just to see if you like the house, and we could find out how we get along?”

“I would love to do that!”

She looked at the clock. “She should be home in another hour. I’ll call her then and discuss it with her.”

-o0o-

They sat and talked for a while. Then she showed him the guest room where he would be staying. It was just a plain, comfortable room with a bare bed and dresser, nothing special. It did need some attention though.

Cameron had always liked Aunt Rachel. She had always given him positive attention, something he was starved for. He felt like she was one of the very few people who saw him as a regular human being. Her birthday and Christmas presents were always nice, and thoughtfully picked out. His mother tended to go more for the gift card method, or plain old cash, rather than actually taking the time to think what he might want. When he took the time to carefully pick out something for her, she never seemed genuinely appreciative.

When the hour was up Rachel called her sister in the kitchen while Cameron waited breathlessly in the den. When she came back in after the call she looked thoughtful.

“Well? What’d she say?”

“I’m sorry to tell you she almost jumped at the opportunity. She was trying to downplay it, but I’m pretty sure she would welcome the chance to have you out of the house. I had no idea things were that bad.”

Cameron looked down. He knew his mother didn’t really seem to like him, but to so easily give him up… that hurt. He remembered when he was a kid and they had gotten along well. Those days disappeared as his father got more offensive. He wondered if his mother even remembered that his father had no love for him either, lumping the two of them together as millstones around his neck.

Rachel sat next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. “Never mind, Cam. There’s at least one person around who loves you.”

That almost brought tears to his eyes. He looked at her and simply said, “Thank you.” He could not remember the last time anyone had said that to him.

-o0o-

On Friday, Anne Marie somehow missed seeing Cameron at school, and decided to find him and see if he would go out with her again. She drove to the house on Oakwood where she had dropped him off, and knocked on the door. A gray-haired lady answered.

“Yes?” she said.

“Hi, I wondered if Cameron was home.”

“Cameron? There’s no Cameron living here.”

“Cameron Davidson?”

“Davidson, Davidson …I think the Davidsons live a couple blocks away. We get their mail now and then. It’s the same house number, but different street.”

“I see. Thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you,” Anne Marie said, and left. She was just a little taken aback, and a little bit pissed off. Then she remembered Cameron said he couldn’t really trust her. She decided she was willing to cut him some slack here.

She drove two streets over and found a neat-looking bungalow on Crestwood with the same number. Ringing the bell, the door was answered by Cam’s mother. When she asked for Cameron she got the distinct impression that his mother didn’t seem to like him.

“Oh, he’s at his aunt’s house, and he’ll be there all weekend. Are you his…girlfriend?” From the incredulous way she asked, it was obvious to Anne Marie that she couldn’t believe her son could have attracted someone as good-looking as her. She really felt like sticking it to her and telling her yes, but common sense prevailed.

“No, just a friend. Could you tell me his aunt’s phone number? I’d really like to get in touch with him.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“Please? It’s very important,” Anne Marie said. She knew how to use the force of her personality to get what she wanted, and it worked this time too.

-o0o-

Back in her car she called the number. Rachel answered.

“Hello? Who is calling?… oh, Cameron?”

Cameron frantically waved at his aunt to indicate that he was not there, no matter who it was. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to get in touch with him. Fortunately she got the message.

When she hung up she told him it was a girl named Anne Marie.

He sighed and said, “She’s this girl at school who had always bullied me. And now suddenly she wants to be friends. But I really don’t trust her.”

“Oh yes, you mentioned her the other day.”

Rachel listened closely as he told the whole story again, and she asked some questions. The trust issue was understandable, but it seemed to her as if this girl sincerely wanted to get to know him. “It sounds as if she could be a strong ally, maybe even protect you.”

“But I just can’t let my guard down with her. I wish I could, because when she took me for an ice cream she did seem nice and kind of interesting. It’s hard to understand why someone would bully you for years and then change their attitude in one minute.”

“She took you for ice cream? Hm.” Rachel considered the dynamics of a girl taking a boy out. “What exactly did she tell you?”

“Well…at that incident a couple weeks ago I told you about she said she had been watching me, admiring my poise under pressure. And that she found me attractive, but… I was in girls clothes!”

“Ah, now it begins to make sense.”

“Huh?”

She smiled at him. “There are some women who really find men in drag a turn-on. Sounds like she might be one of them, and she’s just discovering that.”

“But I’m not interested in wearing those clothes! I told her so, too.”

“What did she say to that?”

“Uhh, she said she was smart enough to know that it was the person, not the clothes.”

“You know, Cam, this girl sounds like she has her head screwed on straight. If it wasn’t for the bullying…”

“She said she wants to, like, turn over a new leaf, and that somehow this situation is making her grow up.”

“I don’t know…it seems like you should give her a chance, but I’m not going to push you one way or another. I’ll also tell you I had the impression she knew you were here, in spite of your signals.”

“And just how did she get this number if not from my mother! Crap!”

-o0o-

Anne Marie spent some time contemplating about how she could have been so cruel for so long – she had never thought of herself as a cruel person. It was just fun to torment nerdy, geeky people. She had a different view now and wondered how she had ever thought it was fun to make someone suffer. And on top of that to have a mother who didn’t even seem to like you… that just seemed unthinkable. It made her feel guilty for adding to Cam’s troubles.

She also had to fight her natural instinct to seek revenge for being snubbed. If this was going to work, she would have to do better.

-o0o-

Cameron stayed the weekend with Rachel and enjoyed himself a lot. It was such a relief living with someone who actually liked him, and believed him. He felt like it was the first time in ages he could unclench himself. Aunt Rachel took him out to dinner on Saturday at a nice Italian restaurant. They didn’t do anything special during the day, just simple interactions. He offered to help around the house and she did ask him to mow the lawn. He was sorry when the weekend was over.

“Do you think I’ll be able to live with you, Aunt Rachel? I really enjoyed spending the time with you.”

“We’ll see, Cam. It was nice having you here. I’ll be talking to your mother today about this.”

-o0o-

At school he was successful in avoiding Anne Marie on Monday, but on Tuesday she found him and offered him a ride home.

“You’re probably not going to want to be doing that, since I’m going to move in with my aunt.”

“Oh. Is she in this school district?”

He nodded yes.

“Well then it can’t be all that far. If you want I’ll help you move. I do have a car, you know. You probably won’t be moving a lot of furniture, will you?”

He shook his head. He stood looking at her. It still didn’t compute for him, the way she was so nice to him. He was so afraid of giving in to her and then getting a metaphorical if not an actual black eye.

“Look, Cameron, I know you don’t trust me, but I really do want to be your friend.”

“I’m…afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No, I’m just afraid if I say yes it’ll all backfire on me, and then it’ll be even worse than before.”

“Well, here’s the thing, Cameron: there’s no way for me to actually prove to you my good intentions. You’re going to have to take a leap of faith. Because I just don’t know what I can do to show you I’m sincere.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You seem like you’re really trying hard and I keep putting up roadblocks, but I have a long and painful history that makes me very wary.”

“And that’s understandable, especially by me. All that time it never occurred to me what the effect of my treatment of you would be.” She paused. “I just want to…to try and make it up to you. Please.”

The “please” got his attention. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard that word come out of her mouth. He sighed deeply. “Okay, Anne Marie. I may be making a big mistake, but I will try and be your friend.”

She gave him a genuine smile. “Can I give you a little hug for that?”

After he nodded okay, she stepped forward and gave him more than a little hug. She was a bit taller and enjoyed how their bodies fitted together. She’d never dated a shorter guy before—not that they were dating—and it was surprisingly nice to be the taller one.

Cameron didn’t get any hugs at all from his mother. Aunt Rachel usually hugged him when he visited. So hugs were pretty rare. He had to admit Anne Marie was good at it. He liked the faint smell of her perfume, the feel of her body against his. He felt himself relax a little.

“That was nice,” Anne Marie said, as she pulled back. “Thanks.”

He blushed. “Thank you too.”

-o0o-

Not much later they were sitting at Draegers again, having ice cream.

“So tell me why you’re moving in with your aunt.”

“My mother, well, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me. She just never believes me when I tell her I’m having real problems at school. And when I told her about that last episode, she still thought I was lying! Really pissed me off! My own mother! The one person you think you should be able to count on.”

“I’m sorry, Cameron. It sounds awful to have to live with someone like that. Do you have any idea why she treats you like that?”

“Oh, it’s because of my father. You remember those guys you pepper-sprayed the other week? He was a lot like them, treating us both like crap. When he finally went ahead and hit her she made him move out, and he was happy to go! The thing is, I think he made her hate all men, including me.”

Anne Marie felt even more empathy for him. “Well, I don’t know too much about abused women, but it somehow doesn’t surprise me that she would end up with an attitude like that.”

“But she includes me with all those guys! Me! Her own son! I never did anything against her!”

“It sounds like she could use some counseling.”

Cameron rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with her.”

They continued talking, getting to know one another better, and afterwards she drove him home. He agreed to let her help him move his few possessions after school on Friday. Aunt Rachel had a few things to do to get the room ready for him, or he would have moved immediately.

-o0o-

After he was moved in with Rachel, things started to go a little more smoothly for him. Most of the abuse at school had stopped. There was one jock, Jeff Bradley, who still seemed unhappy that he couldn’t grind Cameron into the dirt. The rumor was that he still had the hots for Anne Marie, who had broken up with him over a year before, and didn’t like it that she was taking an interest in that loser, Cameron. Every once in a while Jeff would run into Anne Marie in the hallways and try to get her to come back to him, but she always tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested. He swore never to give up though.

As for Anne Marie, she was slowly proving to Cameron that she really had turned over a new leaf. She gave him many rides to and from Rachel’s house, and as he warmed up to her, she took him on what could only be described as dates. Movies, dinners, walks. He was cautiously warming up to her. It felt a little odd to have a friend at all, and he knew under ordinary circumstances she would never have even looked twice at him. He was unaware of the way she was taking the traditional male role, in pursuing him and paying for him, as this was his first experience with this sort of thing. He allowed her to give him more hugs, now and then, which both took pleasure in.

Since she was doing so much for him, he was starting to feel he needed to give something back, to do something big for her. But he wasn’t sure what that might be. Until he figured it out he gave her a couple of his drawings of nature scenes. She was properly impressed.

-o0o-

As the weeks passed Anne Marie was very much enjoying spending time with him. He was completely unlike any other boy she’d gone out with. He was more polite, and seemed to take an interest in what she said. Sometimes they’d have discussions about schoolwork or some intellectual topic, or about movies. But at times, when she was sitting across from him she would sometimes imagine him in his female form. It would take so little to make him into a pretty girl… but that wasn’t what this was about.

Sometimes she would come with him into Aunt Rachel’s house and spend time with the two of them. Aunt Rachel seemed to like her and approve of their friendship, and she thought Aunt Rachel was a really cool person.

-o0o-

One weekend afternoon Cameron and Anne Marie were taking a walk. She’d gotten him to the point where she could hold his hand, and they were strolling along in the park, chatting, when into their path stepped a very drunken Jeff Bradley.

“So, here you are, with that little pansy. Anne Marie, you’re supposed to be with me, not that loser!

“Jeff, you’re drunk. Please go home. Who I am with is no concern of yours.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” slurred Jeff, and pulled a small gun out of his pocket.

Seeing this Anne Marie quickly pulled out her phone and pressed 911. Jeff unsteadily brought the gun up to threaten them with, and Cam, not even thinking about what he was doing, stepped in front of Anne Marie. Time slowed down for him as he watched the hand with the gun. Before he even stopped moving there was a loud bang and a scream, “NOOOO!!!” and he was instantly out of his body, hovering above the scene, observing Anne Marie grab his body as it slumped down. He watched her cradle him and desperately tell him to hang on. There seemed to be an awful lot of blood.

Jeff just stood there stupidly. He couldn’t believe he had actually shot the gun. He hadn’t meant to shoot. He was just going to threaten them, that’s all…

-o0o-

Cameron felt very peaceful up here, even happy, in spite of the events unfolding below. He felt almost no attachment to his injured body. He became aware of someone by his side. Tearing his eyes away from the tragic scene he looked over and saw his deceased grandmother, who looked younger than he remembered.

“Grandma Jenny? What are you doing here? …

She smiled at him. “Hello Sweetie.”

“But you’re dead… Wait—I’m not dead, am I? I don’t feel dead. In fact I feel pretty good!”

“You aren’t dead. It’s only your physical form that has died. The real you is immortal.”

He looked back to the scene below. “Why did this have to happen? I don’t understand.”

She gave him a kindly look. “Some time before you were born you made a deal with Anne Marie to save her life at the cost of yours. This was payback for a huge favor she did for you during a lifetime where the two of you were very close to each other, maybe a hundred and twenty years ago. She gave her life for yours then.” To his confused look she said, “Don’t worry - you’ll remember all this later.”

“Before I was born… how is that possible?’

“Haven’t you noticed you’re still alive? You have lived many times before, thousands and thousands of lifetimes. In some of those lifetimes you and Anne Marie knew each other. In a not-so-distant lifetime you made things very difficult for her, although in that life she was a boy and you were a girl. You got the payback for that in this lifetime.”

“So it’s reincarnation! I always wondered if that was real. Huh. I wonder if that was why she was attracted to me when I was in girl’s clothes… But… Grandma, I was so young…I might not have been super-happy, but I didn’t want to die; I still had things I wanted to do.”

Not unkindly she said, “Cameron, you have accomplished what you came to accomplish for this lifetime, and by your selfless act you showed great love. Give me your hand, honey, and come with me.”

They held hands and a portal of sorts appeared, with light brighter than the sun streaming through it. They walked through together and they and the portal vanished.

-o0o-

Back in the Physical world Jeff was still standing there looking at Anne Marie cradling Cameron’s body when the cops arrived.

“Drop the gun!!” one yelled. “NOW!!”

Almost having forgotten he was holding a gun, he looked down at his hand, and was bringing it up to get a better look at it when the cop, after yelling at him again, took that as a threatening move and shot him.

Anne Marie flinched from the loud noise, but averted her eyes. She did not want to see anyone else get shot. One was bad enough. She kept crooning to Cameron to hang on and not die, but she was beginning to realize he was already dead. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She was too shocked to feel much of anything except sorrow and disbelief. They were just getting to know each other!! An ambulance arrived and she was gently pried away from him.

Later, after she was able to give the police an account of what had happened, and had passed on contact info for Aunt Rachel, she was taken home. She felt totally numb now. Her parents were very solicitous, but she wanted to be by herself. They wanted her to take off her bloody clothes, but at that moment all she could think was that that was all she had of Cameron; she wasn’t quite ready to give it up. She thought about how she was really getting to like him, and it seemed like he was quickly thawing out in his attitude toward her. That he was dead just seemed incomprehensible. One minute alive; the next dead. That he had actually sacrificed himself for her and died in her arms was just so bewildering she could barely get her head around the idea. For the next few weeks she would suddenly find herself overwhelmed with emotion, and she’d get jittery. Later on, every time she started reliving the scene it would make her break down and cry.

-o0o-

The funeral was not very well attended, but Anne Marie was there, sitting next to Aunt Rachel, for whom she had developed a real fondness. Cam’s mother, of course, was there, red-eyed. ‘Like she cares!’ thought Anne Marie. ‘It’s a little late to start now!’

Aunt Rachel could feel her bristling. She laid a hand gently on Anne Marie’s and whispered to her, “Calm down, dear. She has just lost a son, and no matter how she treated him, that was someone she gave birth to and raised.”

Anne Marie looked at her as comprehension soaked in. She nodded. “You’re right…you’re right. It’s just hard. Would things have turned out differently if she had been nice to him?”

“That’s something we’ll never know.”

-o0o-

In the years to come Anne Marie became a big advocate against bullying, even traveling around to speak out about the effects it could have. She stressed that bullies seldom, if ever, knew what might be going on in the lives of those they bullied. Some were already being bullied at home and the added pressure of bullying at school might send them over the edge. Bullying was just a more pleasant name for terrorism.

She also made time in her schedule to regularly visit with Aunt Rachel. They seemed to be the two people who felt the most loss from Cameron’s death, and it drew them together. When Anne Marie finally found the boy she was to marry, when she was thirty years old, she brought him to meet Aunt Rachel, an important figure in her life.

As for Cam, the next time he was reborn it was as Anne Marie’s daughter, whom she named Kammie in memory of her friend.

The End.

In those high school days I grew my hair pretty long, not tied back, and was too often mistaken for a girl. Adults thought nothing of speculating out loud, “is that a boy or a girl?” as if I was an exhibit, or deaf. You heard it often enough that you got inured to it.

I was also a shrimp, a runt, a “little guy,” etc. Girls never took me seriously when I tried to make conversation with them. But I didn’t really have friends to advise me about what I was doing wrong, so that I could improve. I wasn’t nerdy, or an outcast, exactly; I was just discounted and ignored.

When I was a junior there was this one senior girl I really admired, Annie Miller. She was very tall and athletic, wore her dark brown hair back in a thick braid, and was on the school’s girls’ basketball team. I knew nothing about the sport, but once I found out she was on the team I’d go to their games just to watch her; she was so pretty, and moved with such wonderful grace. I was sure she didn’t know I existed, but that was okay because I knew I had no chance with her anyway.

-o0o-

A chain of circumstances started with me overhearing some lowlife thugs at the school talking about how they intended to “do” Annie. They even talked about how they would intercept her in a certain hallway, and if they missed her there, one guy knew her route home. Another guy owned a rusty old van, and they’d snatch her on her way and “do” her in the van. They were sore because she had snubbed them all more than once. ‘And for good reason!’ I said to myself.

Well, I certainly couldn’t let that happen. I just had to figure out how to get the message to her. She wasn’t in any of my classes, and was a year older. That left lunch, which we had the same period.

Gulping, I approached her table and timidly tapped her shoulder. I thought she might be impatient or dismissive, like the other girls.

“You have a visitor, Annie,” giggled one of her table-mates.

She turned to me, expecting someone taller, then adjusted her gaze down to meet my eyes.

“Hello there. Something you want?” she said, not unkindly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? It’s important,” I said.

I have to give her credit. She simply stood up, put her hand on my shoulder and steered me toward a corner of the lunchroom.

“What’s your name, and what’s on your mind?”

“I’m Avery McGuire. I wanted to let you know that I heard some jerks talk about, um, snatching you in a hall or on your way home, and ‘doing’ you,” I said, using finger quotes. “I just wanted to warn you that you may be in danger.”

“Well thanks, Avery. I appreciate the tip. Do you know who these guys are?”

“There were maybe three of them. I was around the corner while they were discussing this, so I didn’t see them, but I got the idea they wanted revenge for being snubbed by you.”

She looked thoughtful for a few moments.

“I have a feeling I know who you’re talking about. I’ll need to make some preparations, but I want to thank you for taking the time to tell me.”

I blushed.

“Of course. I don’t want you to get hurt,” I said, looking up at her.

“Haven’t I seen you at our games? You must be a fan.”

She had seen me!!

“I am! You guys are great, especially you!” I kind of blurted that last part out unintentionally.

She smiled at me. AT ME!!

“You’re pretty cute, Avery. Thanks again,” she said, and ruffled my hair before returning to her table.

In spite of the hair-ruffling I was walking on air the rest of the day. My crush spoke to me! She smiled at me! She even touched me! I hardly even noticed when Dennis Sickbert, another of the school bullies, elbowed me viciously out of the way two periods later.

A couple of days later I was in the hall and was being shoved again by the same idiot. From my position on the floor where I had fallen I heard the bang of flesh on metal, and I looked back to see Annie holding Sickbert against the lockers, her arm against his throat, and warning him to lay off of me.

I was highly flattered, but also couldn’t help wondering if this would make Sickbert redouble his efforts.

Annie helped me up and helped me collect my things. I looked up at her with stars in my eyes.

“Thank you, Annie. I just hope that doesn’t make him try harder.”

“It was my pleasure, Avery. And try not to worry; I’ve got my eye on him. Listen, meet me at lunch today, okay?”

“Sure!”

She walked off, leaving me feeling great.

-o0o-

At lunch I found my way to her table, crowded with her friends again, many of whom were on the team. One of them spotted me approaching, and Annie turned to offer me a seat next to her.

“Thanks!” I said, and sat down.

“Avery, I wanted to let you know how that whole other matter we talked about turned out,” she started.

I looked attentively at her.

“You probably don’t know this, but I’m a black belt in Karate. I was walking home the day after you spoke with me, and I was aware that a van was pacing me, so I slowed down. The three guys stopped the van and jumped out and in about two minutes all of them were out cold, some with broken bones. They don’t really keep themselves in very good physical condition.”

I let go of the breath I was holding.

“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt!” I said.

“I really appreciate your warning. It put me on a higher alert, and I was ready for them. Incidentally, they are all in jail at the moment.”

That was good to know!

“Yeah, our Annie can really take care of herself,” one of the other girls said.

“Listen, some of us are going to play a little soccer after school today. Would you like to come and watch?”

“Sure I would! Thanks!”

-o0o-

After school I walked over to the field. It was a kind of brisk but sunny day, and I was cold sitting in the bleachers. Annie and the others were running around like mad, kicking the ball here and there. Annie looked over at me a couple times and smiled. Between games she came over to say hello, and noticed I was shivering. She took off her black puffer coat, put it around me and zipped it up. She smiled again. Then she pulled the hood up too. She reached in and pulled some of my hair out on each side. In theory my arms were trapped inside, but the coat was was big enough—or I was small enough—to be able to maneuver them into the sleeves.

“Very cute, Avery. That should warm you up some.”

The coat was way too big for me, but it was still warm with her body heat, and… it was hers.

She was running around on the field and didn’t appear to feel the cold at all.

When the game finished, as they walked off the field, Beth, one of the other girls, pointed to me and said, “Annie, your girlfriend is looking pretty cute!” I turned very red.

“You got that right, Beth! You warm enough now, Avery?”

I nodded vigorously, and started to unzip the coat, but Annie stopped me before I even got my arms to the ends of the sleeves.

“Leave it on. I’m too hot to put that back on right now. Come on, let’s walk.”

I got up and found the hem of the coat practically at my ankles.

“I must look ridiculous,” I said to her.

“On the contrary, you look extra-cute,” she said. “Which way do you live?”

“I live in this direction,” I said, indicating the way we were already walking.

“Excellent! So, Avery, tell me: you go to our games, do you have any advice or pointers for our basketball team?”

“Um, no, not really. I don’t know much about the game. Basically I know the ball is supposed to go through the hoop thing.”

She laughed. I didn’t know it at the time, but that question was a sort of test, to see if I’d try and show off my superior knowledge, even though she was the star player.

Another senior girl was going in the opposite direction to us. She looked at us as she passed and just said, “Hi girls.”

I sighed as Annie looked at me and giggled. I knew the coat was shaped with a flare at the hip. But I was having some trouble with it being so long anyway, and I was struggling a little to hold my book bag through the long sleeves.

“Annie, as much as I like it I think I’m going to have to take the coat off. I’m kind of tripping on it.”

She pouted, but helped me off with it, and then draped it over her arm.

“Did what that girl said bother you?” she asked.

“Nah. I’m used to it.”

“Next time I’ll have to wear a shorter coat!” she joked.

“It was nice of you to let me wear it. I really was getting cold.”

“Happy to help. Oh, this is my street,” she said.

“I’m another four streets down,” I said, “so I guess I’ll see you at school?”

“You bet,” she said, and bending down, she kissed my cheek!

I smiled widely at her and went on my way, walking on air.

-o0o-

Annie invited me to sit at the team’s lunch table as a regular thing. I somehow felt like a mascot there, and they gave me a lot more attention than I was used to, but Annie wouldn’t allow me to fade into the background. Not many people at school—other than the bullies—were aware I existed, so this was a huge change. I also kept getting the impression that most of the girls at the table thought I, too, was a girl.

Annie also rescued me from Sickbert again. She happened to be behind me in the hall and saw him creeping up behind me, ready to try something. She got her phone out and started making a video as he came up and started to yank my hair. At that point I guess she must have stopped so that she could twist his arm or some other body part, because whatever she did really made him yell.

Later I learned that she had delivered him and the video to the front office, and I had no more trouble from him.

“Annie, thank you so much! What can I do for you for saving me from that idiot, Sickbert?”

“Avery, you just keep coming to our games and joining us at lunch, okay?”

“Well sure!”

After their evening games the team would sometimes go out to eat somewhere and she started inviting me to go along with them. She would sit me next to her and drape her long arm around me. I never got tired of that.

On the days she drove to school she would offer me a ride home, and I was always happy to accept.

On one of these rides she asked if I would be interested in going to a movie with her that Friday evening.

“Are you kidding? Of course I would!”

“Good! Then I’ll pick you up at 6:30. We can grab a bite somewhere while we’re out.”

-o0o-

I told mom about my date, and she was happy for me. She knew I had never had any girl show any interest in me. I also told her how Annie had saved me from Sickbert, and how I had warned her about the three stooges out to rape her.

“Sounds like you’re protecting each other,” she said.

“Other than those three guys, I don’t think there’s much I could do to protect her. Besides, she’s a black belt in Karate, so she knows how to defend herself.”

“Well then, you’d better stay on her good side!” she laughed.

-o0o-

Friday at 6:30 Annie drove up and came to our door. Mom let her in. She hadn’t realized how tall Annie was. Mom’s around the same height as I am, like five-foot nothing. (I’m exaggerating. I’m really five-foot two, but it feels like five-foot nothing.)

Annie had dressed casually, but a little nicer than at school. Same for me.

I performed the introductions, then threw on my jacket.

“You two have fun!” said mom, as we walked out the door.

Annie’s car had a bench seat, and she motioned me over, so she could put her arm around me while she drove, left-handed.

She asked what classes I was taking and if I did any sports.

“No, sorry Annie. I’m a complete klutz when it comes to sports, and since I don’t have a father or brother, and my mom knows nothing about sports, there was no one to explain how the games work. In middle school we had football in P.E. one semester, and the other guys were really annoyed with me when they told me I was ‘offsides’ and I didn’t know what ‘offsides’ meant. When I asked, they told me I wasn’t on the line, or something like that, but there was no line!”

She laughed.

“I can teach you about it if you want.”

“Well, I would only be interested if you were playing,” I said, shyly.

She pulled me a little closer.

“You are just the cutest little thing!”

If Annie was saying it, I didn’t mind at all!

We arrived at the mall where the theater was, and headed toward the entrance. There was a short line at the box office. The two guys ahead of us turned around, looking us up and down.

“Hey, you two girls want to make this a double-date?” one of them asked.

Pulling me close in a possessive way, Annie said, “Nope. She’s all mine.”

“Great. Lesbos,” one of them muttered. “What a waste.”

Looking up at Annie I quietly said, “How about if we eat first and catch a later show?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” she said, and we left the jerks there and headed for the food court.

I got myself a half a Philly chicken sandwich, and Annie got a large burger. We found ourselves a table and sat.

“Does that happen to you a lot?” she asked.

“Well, more than I would like. I just got used to it, but it’s usually more from old folks than young guys like that.”

“I hope you didn’t mind what I said to them.”

“Annie? I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. You can say I’m yours any time you want!”

She laughed.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you up in the bleachers with your eyes on me, Avery! You’re exactly the kind of guy I find myself drawn to.”

I smiled at her.

“That makes me really happy. I was feeling like no girl would ever be interested in me.”

“There’s at least one now,” she smiled back.

“Also, it might have been the best thing you could have said to those guys. If they found out I was a guy there would have been a whole new series of comments, and then they’d have tried to convince you to dump me.”

“You know, you’re probably right about that!”

There was a pause as each of us took a bite of our meal.

“Do I really look like a girl, Annie?”

“Kind of. And I’m sure it’s not just your hair; you have an awfully cute face.”

“Not compared to you,” I said, blushing.

“Thank you,” she said.

We finished up our meals and walked around the mall, looking at the display windows until the next showing of our movie. She stopped us at Forever 21 to look at a floral puff-sleeve dress in the window. She looked from it to me several times and said, “you know, that would look really cute on you.”

“Oh, uh, well, I’m not really in the market for a dress, Annie.”

She smiled. “It was just a thought.”

The movie was kind of a chick flick, but I didn’t mind in the least. She put the armrest up between us, and her arm around me, and I leaned into her. I was in heaven.

There were several times in the movie where she softly kissed me. I was practically swooning, and I laid my head on her shoulder. I lost all track of what the movie was about.

Suddenly I felt her shake me a little.

“Wake up, cutie, the movie’s over.”

“Omigod! Did I fall asleep?”

“Sure looked like it.”

“God! I must be such a boring date, to fall asleep!”

“Nah. I had fun watching you. Come on, let’s go.”

-o0o-

We exited, and she drove me home. We spent around ten minutes in the driveway in her car just snogging.

“O Man! I could do this all night with you, Avery. But I have to get home. Want to do something together tomorrow?”

“You think I would turn down a chance to spend time with you? No way!”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I’ll call you.”

I reluctantly disengaged myself from her, just lunging back for one more kiss. Then I got out and went to the door to watch her pull away.

I can’t even imagine how big my smile was as I came inside, but mom certainly noticed it.

“I take it the date was successful?”

“You have no idea,” I said.

“I’m happy for you, Avery. I know you’ve waited a long time.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I dreamily got myself ready for bed and dreamed of Annie.

-o0o-

The next morning I told mom about the two jerks in the line at the movie, and Annie’s response, and I mentioned about her saying the dress would look good on me.

“I don’t understand why she said that, Mom.”

She sighed. “Avery, you’re small; you’re cute. She’s big and strong. She takes charge. What I’m saying is, she’s kind of the man in this relationship. Do you understand?”

I hung my head, and mumbled, “Yeah.”

“But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, honey. You really like her, right?”

“Well, yeah!”

“And everything that has happened between you two so far hasn’t been a problem, has it?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“Then enjoy what you have. If you don’t want to be The Girl, you can always end the relationship, but to me it just looks like that might be where it’s heading. Think about it.”

-o0o-

Around 10 o’clock the next morning Annie called me to see if I was ready to go somewhere, do something.

Even with my eyes opened about our relationship dynamic, I still yearned to be with her. I assured her I was ready to do whatever.

“I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

When she arrived I was out front, in my light jacket. I hopped in and she pulled me over to her and gave me a kiss.

“I thought we’d maybe go for a walk around the lake, maybe hit the mall, have lunch. Just hang together.”

“Sounds good to me!”

She drove us about twenty minutes to the lake, which was about two miles around. When we got out of the car it was very windy, and I started to regret not wearing a heavier jacket. Annie asked, “Are you warm enough?”

“Just about.”

She could tell I was colder than I was saying, and she opened the back car door and picked up a jacket and draped it over her shoulder.

“It’s usually pretty windy here, and I thought this might happen, so I brought it for when you get too cold,” she said, and smiled.

We started walking and by a quarter mile I broke down and asked for the jacket. It was, naturally, a girl’s jacket, but not huge.

I looked at her, and she said, “It’s my sister Cathy’s.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister. How old is she?”

“She’s thirteen, and growing. I think she’s already outgrown this jacket.”

I put it on over my thin jacket and zipped it. It had fake fur along the edges, collar and cuffs, and it had a distinct waist line.

“You look great in that,” she smiled.

She took my hand and we continued walking.

“Annie, do you wish I was a girl?”

“No, I think you’re perfect just as you are, and I really like that even though you’re a boy you’re kind of girly.”

That was confusing to me.

“You think I’m girly?”

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, Avery. You’re small, cute as a button, and have such beautiful long hair. For me it’s a wonderful combination. I don’t put a lot of stock in rigid, stereotypical gender roles. I’m sure I wouldn’t have been interested in you if you were trying to act all macho, even as cute as you are. I really like seeing the feminine side of you.”

I nodded. I guess mom was really right about this.

I gripped her hand tighter and looked up at her and smiled.

-o0o-

When we got back to the car, she drove us to a neighboring mall, and we just hung out and walked around there. At the teen girls shop there she brought me in and started looking at dresses. I didn’t know if she was looking for one for herself or for me, so my attention wandered.

“Avery, what do you think of this one?”

It was not that dissimilar to the one we had seen at Forever 21, except it was of some richer material and had a different print.

“Looks nice,” I said, noncommittally.

“Would you try it on for me?”

I looked up at her.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“I just want to see what you look like in a nice dress.”

“Um, Annie, won’t they say that a boy can’t go in the dressing room?”

“Avery, Baby, I really don’t think they will see a boy.”

“Oh,” I said, just a bit crestfallen.

“Come on. I’ll help you.”

We took the dress into the dressing room, and she helped me off with my tee shirt. She lowered the dress over my head, my arms found the armholes and it settled on to my shoulders. She zipped it up the back. Her eyes sparkled.

“Take off your pants, okay?”

I reached up and undid my belt and let the pants fall. I stepped out of them, and she hung them on a peg.

“Avery, you look incredible in that. So sweet. I love it.”

I blushed ten shades of red.

She opened the door and pulled me out to look at myself in the three-way mirror.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I didn’t see a boy in that mirror at all. The girl had the wrong shoes for the dress, even I could tell that, but she looked all right. She also looked younger than seventeen, maybe since she was flat. I wasn’t really sure how to feel about the whole thing. I looked up at Annie.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

I nodded dumbly. I already knew she liked it.

“Do you want to keep it on?”

“Um, no. I’m not ready for that.”

We went back in and I changed back into my clothes. Was she going to buy that dress??

To my relief she left it hanging in the dressing room, and we left.

-o0o-

“That was fun!” Annie said. “You looked just as cute as I had imagined, if not cuter.”

We pulled into a restaurant parking lot, went in and had lunch there. The waitress called us “ladies.” I guess I should start getting used to that.

When we were finished with our meal Annie paid and then drove us to her house. No one seemed to be home, and she brought me upstairs to her bedroom. It was bright and airy, and she had sports trophies on her shelves, along with just a couple little stuffed animals. “My family should be back around 8 tonight,” she informed me.

“Lie down on the bed, Avery,” she said.

I kicked my shoes off and lay down, and she got on top of me, propped up on her elbows. I felt trapped, but in a very pleasant way.

Sighing, she said, “you’re just the cutest thing,” and started kissing me. I put my arms around her and kissed right back. It was really nice! During the course of an hour she rolled us over so I was lying on top of her, and we kissed that way for a while. My hair was falling in her face, so she reached onto her bedside table and got a hair claw clip and gathered my hair in it at the back of my head. We resumed kissing and I know she could feel my erection, which embarrassed me.

“I think I need to use the bathroom,” I said, nervously.

“It’s okay, Avery. You take care of what you need to take care of.”

Once in the bathroom it didn’t take too long to relieve the pressure. When I came back out she had some clothes laid out on her bed.

“Will you wear these for me?”

It was a complete set of underwear and a fancy dress, probably her sister’s.

If I was going to keep up my relationship with her, I realized I’d have to get used to doing this. And it would probably be smart if I could develop an attitude about gender roles similar to hers, although everyone knows it’s more socially acceptable for a girl to go in the boy direction than the reverse.

So I smiled at her and said, “Okay, Annie.”

I undressed, and turned around as I switched my briefs for the panties. She helped me on with the bra, and gave me some chicken fillets (she called them) to put in the cups. Then there were some very dark pantyhose, which she showed me how to put on. Man! they felt good going up my legs! Then she lowered the dress over me and zipped it, hooking the little catch at the top. Somehow I really enjoyed the feeling as it tightened around me. Lastly she had a pair of two-inch pumps for me. They fit perfectly, although they put me off balance.

Turning me around to face her, she gave me a big smile.

“Lookin’ good, girl,” she said.

I blushed and didn’t know what to say.

She showed me myself in the mirror, and with the addition of a bust I could see even less trace of boy than I could at the mall shop.

She sat me down and brushed my hair until it was looking shiny and neat, then parted it close to the middle. She put a couple barrettes in and after some lipstick she seemed satisfied. She pulled me to my feet and just before I fell over, she actually picked me up. I put my arms around her neck and kissed her tenderly.

“You really look amazing, Avery. Thank you so much for doing this.”

“I was discussing you with my mom, and she said I was probably ‘the girl’ in this relationship. So if I want to be with you, I guess I should get used to this, huh?”

She looked thoughtful for a few moments. “Your mother is pretty insightful. I’m not going to force you to do this, Avery, but I do like the best of both worlds, my hot little girlfriend and boyfriend all in one kind of girly package.”

“And you, Annie. You’re all I ever wanted. Tall, beautiful, strong, smart, graceful, and—really nice!”

She kissed me again, put me down and smiled.

“How are we going to keep this up, though, Annie? I mean, my mother already thought this is what was going to happen, but what about your family?”

“Well, my parents are somewhat aware of my preferences. I tried having a girlfriend, but there was just something missing. So I don’t think they would be too shocked about you.”

“But, well, if they meet me as a boy, but then see me as a girl, do you think they’ll have a problem with that? It doesn’t seem like we could just let them meet Boy me, and then suddenly they see Girl me. Heck, I’m not even sure what I’m asking.”

“Hey, let’s try not to plan too far ahead. If they were to show up right now, I’d introduce you as my girlfriend Avery. And then I’d give you a big kiss right in front of them!”

“Would you really?”

“You betcha!”

-o0o-

I changed back to boy mode, and she took me home by 6:30. I invited her to eat with us, and she happily accepted.

I helped mom get the meal ready. She had taught me a lot about cooking. Annie sat at the kitchen table and watched us work, saying she had never learned to cook. She and I told mom about our day together, not mentioning the dressing part. But mom noticed how nice my hair looked, and how the part was not in its usual place.

“So did you wear a dress?”

That shocked both of us into silence. Eventually Annie regained her wits.

“I did ask Avery to try on a dress at the stores,” said Annie. “She looked fantastic.”

“Well, someday I hope I’ll meet my daughter too!” said mom.

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Mrs. McGuire. She looks too pretty to stay in boys clothes all the time.”

I don’t think I’ve ever blushed as much as since I met Annie.

-o0o-

The meal was good, and mom found out more about Annie than I knew. She was applying for sports scholarships at universities, and was considering going into sports medicine, although becoming a coach was another possibility. Mom asked about Annie’s parents and about her sister. It was done artfully, and did not seem like a grilling session.

When the meal was over I was going to do the dishes, but mom told me to see to my guest. We sat in the living room together, but she soon said she had to get home. She kissed me deeply, leaving me kind of breathless, and went out the door.

“That was some kiss, Avery,” said mom, who was suddenly standing right behind me.

I nodded in agreement.

“You were totally right about our relationship, Mom. But she said she wasn’t going to force me to be The Girl. Still, I’m crazy about her, and I guess I don’t mind that much.”

“Just be careful where you go when you’re dressed up, honey.”

“Well, if anyone tries anything, Annie will kick their ass!”

She laughed. “You’re right. I forgot about her black belt!”

-o0o-

Annie and I settled into our unique relationship, with her having me dressed whenever she could get the opportunity. She plucked her sister’s various skirts, blouses and dresses from the pile to send to Goodwill [UK: charity shop]. I did end up meeting her parents while dressed, and she actually did kiss me right in front of them! They didn’t seem all that shocked, but at that point they didn’t know I wasn’t a girl.

On one occasion she had me dressed up pretty nicely, and took me to dinner. Afterwards she took me home to meet my mother. Even though mom had said she wanted to meet her daughter, I was still a little worried about her reaction. We walked in the door and found mom sitting in the living room with a magazine. She looked up at us, and I saw tears come to her eyes.

“Mom? I’m sorry. Are you disappointed in me?”

“Not at all, Avery. You’re just so pretty. I’m stunned to have such a pretty daughter.”

I went to her and we hugged for a long minute.

“I thought it was about time to introduce her,” said Annie, looking at mom.

Mom released me and went to hug Annie. “Thank you so much, dear. I’m glad you did.”

-o0o-

In August Annie left for college, having gotten her scholarship. I missed her like mad. Now that she had gotten me into this habit of wearing girls clothes, I found myself wearing them now and then, at home, all on my own. It wasn’t nearly as fun without Annie, but I liked how some of them felt on me.

I didn’t know it, but at school Annie had asked the basketball team members who weren’t seniors with her to keep an eye out for me, so they still asked me to sit at their table at lunch. They were still nice to me, but it sure wasn’t the same without Annie there.

The year kind of plodded by, and though I had considered going to college, we really didn’t have the money. So I started looking for a job after spring break. Naturally, being so small there were a lot of jobs that were just out of my orbit. Flipping burgers didn’t appeal to me, and I stayed away from restaurants in general.

I started looking for office work, and almost all the places I went to thought I was a girl. I had neatened up my long hair, and I was wearing boy’s clothes but still they thought I was a girl. I know that in the olden days there were separate jobs for men and women, but without that distinction anymore, I thought I should be able to do most jobs, or at least most jobs that didn’t require being a giant guy with big muscles. But with no experience doing, well, anything, I knew I’d be starting out at the very bottom rung.

-o0o-

There was a job opening at the local bakery, as a counter clerk. They had never had a male apply for the job before, so the only uniform shirts they had were for women. And naturally they, too, thought I was a girl. I didn’t realize what kind of shirt it was until I got home and opened the package. It had little puff sleeves at the top and a kind of rounded collar. The rest of the dress code was black pants or skirt.

I didn’t know if I wanted to set them straight or not. I couldn’t believe the number of people who automatically assumed I was a girl. It might just be easier to go with the flow than to keep on endlessly correcting people. Thanks to Annie I already knew how to act like a girl, so it didn’t seem like that huge of a deal.

When mom came home I talked with her about it.

“Sometimes I wish you had named me some manly name, like… oh, Brutus or Otto or something!”

She laughed at that.

“I can honestly say that the name Brutus never came up as a possibility. I’m sorry you’ve having trouble with this, Avery.”

“I was just thinking of going with it, Mom. Then I don’t have to correct everyone every few minutes.”

“It’s an option. I don’t think you can get into trouble at a small business like the bakery. About the only advice I can think of is that when you use the bathroom you sit down, so that anyone passing by doesn’t hear a loud peeing noise.”

“I guess that makes sense. And really, what difference does it make what sex I am there?”

“Probably none, as long as you do a good job.”

-o0o-

After I had been working there a few weeks, another girl who worked there, Cindy, asked why I never wore makeup.”

“Oh, I’m just not into it, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand, but you’d really look nicer with a little blush, at least. And don’t take this the wrong way, but…you’re flat, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes I am.”

“You might get us more money in the tip jar if you used a little enhancement up top.”

“uh, oooo-kay.”

If I hadn’t had the girl experience I already had I would be dying of embarrassment.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“No, I’m good. I’ll think about it.”

Is the universe trying to tell me something?????”

-o0o-

After Judy, another clerk, mentioned the same thing about my lack of a bust, I threw up my hands and started wearing a padded bra to work. And they were right – there were more tips in the jar, which I thought was just really weird.

Bakery clerks aren’t paid all that well, but I had no idea what else I might be qualified to do. Mom made a decent wage, as a bookkeeper, but my salary really helped. There were other positions open, but they were really variations on what I was already doing, clerking. So why work for a giant corporation, say a drugstore chain, when I could work in a small operation with people I had grown to like? I just had no idea where my future lay.

-o0o-

Since I was working as a girl, when it got warm I went ahead and wore a black skirt to work most days. When Annie came home for the summer she sought me out at the bakery, to my surprise.

No other customers were in the shop, which was good, because I came out from behind the counter and she picked me up for a long-awaited kiss. To me she looked better than ever.

“I’m so happy to see you, Baby,” she said.

“Not as happy as I am to see you, Annie!”

“Mmm. You smell great! Just like a bakery!”

I introduced Cindy, who was the only other clerk there, and she looked at us knowingly. “Aren’t you the dark horse!” she said.

-o0o-

That evening Annie came over to our house, and we sat together while she told me about how college was going.

“So, enough about me. You’re working there as a girl? How’d that happen?”

“Every single place I went to apply for a job thought I was a girl! I couldn’t believe it! And they gave me a woman’s uniform blouse at the bakery. And then the other girls there started telling me I could improve our tips if I’d ‘just make a little effort,’” I said, rolling my eyes. “I decided it would just be easier to go with it, rather than correct every single person.”

“And has it worked out okay for you?”

“Yeah, the work is the same, and it really doesn’t matter what sex you are there.”

“So do you plan on staying there?”

I looked at her. “Annie, I have no idea what else I’m qualified for. It seems like it will always be a clerk or some variation on it. Unless I want do something else, like, I dunno, cutting grass.”

“Well, I’ve got some news for you. My dad’s company has an opening where I think you’d fit right in. It’s office work, but doesn’t require any college.”

Her Dad was a partner in a successful architectural firm.

“That sounds kind of interesting. Do you think it would pay more than the bakery?”

“Oh, I’m sure it would pay more. The only catch is that they need a Girl Friday.”

“Um, not a… Boy Friday?”

“They’re looking for a woman, even though they can’t really discriminate. But you’re already working as a woman, so what’s the difference?”

Here I was at this crossroads again. It didn’t really make a whole lot of difference in the job, more in how I was perceived. Plus, I supposed I’d probably have to buy a nicer wardrobe than pants and a uniform blouse.

“I guess it really doesn’t make a lot of difference, Annie. I never thought I’d spend my career as a girl though. And I have no idea what other kind of job I’d be good at.”

“So you’ll apply?”

“What? You mean you can’t just get me in, being the boss’s daughter and all?” I teased.

“I do have some pull, and I know Dad already likes you.”

“Your parents still think I’m a girl.”

“True. And they still think I’m a Lesbian.”

“Huh. I wonder if it would make them feel better to know the truth?”

“To tell you the truth, Avery, I can’t really imagine how that scene will play out!”

There was silence for a few minutes.

“If I get this job, I’m going to need some office clothes, I guess.”

“I’ll help you pay for those,” she said.

“Well, now that that’s all settled, can we please get down to some snogging?”

No sooner said than done.

-o0o-

Yes, I was hired by Annie’s dad’s firm, and I liked the work there, as well as the fact that I was allowed to sit down some of the time. For all intents and purposes I lived as a woman. There wasn’t much reason to put on boy clothes when I got home, unless I was going to do some dirty job. The work could sometimes be more tiring than at the bakery, so I usually didn’t feel like I had the energy to un-female myself afterwards.

I worked there all through Annie’s college education, and I became interested in the department that made the scale models. They seemed really cool, and I was allowed to help out in there sometimes. I gradually learned how to make them, so I was switched to that department. Her dad was very supportive.

Annie surprised everyone in her family, including herself, when she decided to switch majors to become an architect, and forgo a sports or medicine career. When she graduated she found a job with another firm in town, intent on working there until she had some experience under her belt, and then joining her dad’s firm.

By some miracle we had stayed together all this time, and I was still crazy about her.

-o0o-

The day finally came when we decided to let her folks know I was a guy, in spite of appearances. We sat them down in the living room.

“Mom, Dad, there’s something we haven’t told you about Avery,” said Annie.

They raised their eyebrows, but said nothing.

“She’s actually a boy.”

That looked like it was hardly absorbed.

After a minute her dad asked, incredulously “Avery, you are a boy? And all this time you two have been together, Annie knew?”

“Yes sir, right from the beginning. We had a mutual admiration society going on in high school. But it seemed that no matter where I went people just assumed I was a girl, and eventually it became easier to live as one than to keep correcting everybody. I just got tired of that. Sorry for deceiving you.”

“I’m just going to have to readjust my thinking a bit,” he said.

“You don’t really have to, Dad,” said Annie. “Avery is the same person either way, no matter what her plumbing looks like.”

“It’s true; I don’t change personalities when I’m one or the other, and I’m hardly ever in Boy mode anymore.”

“I suppose you’ve been using the Ladies Rooms at work?” asked her mom, who had been quiet until now.

“Mrs. Miller, come on. You know exactly how erotic things are in the restrooms. If I’m lucky I might be able to see one of my co-workers applying her lipstick. It’s not a locker room. Anyhow, the only woman I’ve ever been interested in is your daughter.”

“I’m sorry, Avery. Yes, you’re right; there just isn’t much to see.”

Ultimately they really didn’t seem to have a problem with it—I really was the same person, after all, and if they were relieved to find out their daughter wasn’t a lesbian, they didn’t make a big show of it. And they had liked me for years now.

Annie insisted I wear the wedding gown when we got married, and she looked pretty sexy to me in the tailored tux she wore. I don’t know what most of the wedding guests thought, but that wasn’t uppermost on my mind that day. I was overwhelmed with love for her, for sticking with me all this time, and for loving me back.

All three parents were overjoyed when we gave them two grandchildren. And before you ask, yes, I did become the part-time stay-at-home mother.

The End.

Betrayal and Forgiveness

Opening the wedding invitation that evening was like a stab in the heart, even though I had suspected this was coming. I sat down on my bed and heaved a huge part-sigh and part-sob. Vicky had chosen Pete over me, so that was that. It was easy to see why she might think he was the better choice; he’d always been more successful and manly than I was. In business he was doing extremely well, on the path to becoming a young executive, whereas I was never going to be executive material; I didn’t have much of a head for business. And Pete did seem like a nice enough guy, at least compared to some of the losers Vicky had seen in the past. Even though he was my rival I’d always almost liked him.

No, she made the right choice. It hurt to think that, but it was true. Now that I considered it, I’m not sure why I ever thought I was in the running. Vicky had always gone for the more manly type of guy, she was usually disappointed, and it was my shoulder she cried on. Then she’d go and find another just like the last! I’d always loved her, even in high school, but no matter what I did she had always treated me more like a friend or a brother. We were seated next to each other in an English class when we were about fifteen, and just hit it off. She was smart, athletic, well liked. I was not. Her spending time with me was very gratifying. Even if we were best friends we sometimes argued like brother and sister. We spent a lot of time together, and I had been there for her many times when she needed someone, but somehow I just never got her to see me as a viable romantic partner.

Attending the wedding was not an option; as much as I loved her it would be too painful. I could not watch them tie the knot.

Lying down on the bed I thought back over the years, how much we had shared, how close I sometimes felt to her. Why could she never see what I wanted her to see in me? What was wrong with me?

With all these negative thoughts swirling around in my head I decided I needed a bit of comfort, so I found one of my nicer and softer nightgowns and got into it. Then I somehow drifted off to a troubled sleep.

-o0o-

Waking up with a start I looked at the glowing clock. It was only 5:30 a.m., an hour and a half before I usually awoke. Turning on the bedside lamp my eye fell on the wedding invitation and all the thoughts from last night came rushing back like the odor of a skunk. But why should I make myself any more miserable than I already was?

Lying there I thought what I really needed was a new start. Life for me here in Indianapolis was a bit stultifying. Everyone around here who knew me was convinced I’d never amount to much. It was as if a mold had formed around me, preventing me from moving or growing. It would be great to get away from that attitude. And Vicky wouldn’t need me anymore now that she had made her choice; Pete would be there for her now. Maybe if I went somewhere no one knew me I could start over and get a better chance for a successful life.

There was a month until the wedding. So starting today I would look for a job in… where? Not a tiny town, and not a huge city.

Even though it was still too early I got up and started getting ready for the day as I kept thinking. The one snag in all this was that Vicky was bound to try and make sure I was coming to the event. She knew I was an introvert and didn’t like to attend any event. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I had no intention of being anywhere nearby. To make matters worse, she could read me pretty easily, and would likely know if I was lying. This would need careful planning. I’d have to sound enthusiastic about coming until the last minute.

Oh! I just realized I could come up with a viable excuse to give her: my great-aunt Zelda, who lived in Rhode Island, was getting very infirm. Vicky knew of this aunt but had no idea where Zelda lived. I could say Zelda fell and broke a hip and needed me! I think that would work. But I would have to wait until the wedding was imminent, pretending I was coming until it was too late.

-o0o-

One of many similar conversations:

“You are coming to the wedding, Sammie, aren’t you?” she asked. (For some reason she was the only person who called me Sammie. Everyone else just said Sam.)

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I lied. “Why do you keep asking me?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just worried that you’ll somehow weasel out of coming.”

I smirked. “Weasel out, eh? Well, I have every intention of being there, Vicky. You know I’m really happy for you.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I know some day you’ll find someone too.”

I just smiled back, rather than answer. Her last memories of me should be happy, not sour.

-o0o-

In the ensuing period I picked out a few smallish west coast towns on the map and looked for job openings. I got pretty lucky, finding a decent-sounding job in Oregon on the second try. Maybe they were desperate?

Two days before the wedding I was all packed and ready to leave. I’d informed my landlord I was leaving. He’d informed me he’d be keeping my deposit for breaking the lease, causing me to sigh dramatically and heavily to myself and roll my eyes.

Very late that night I texted Vicky about my sudden “change” in plans. I told her I felt terrible about this, but I had gotten a call from Aunt Zelda, pleading for help. She’d broken a hip, had no children and I was really the only family she had. I wished her and Pete all happiness, but I had to be there to help my aunt and was leaving at once. Once I sent the text I didn’t answer any call or text from her. It had to be a clean break, with no baggage. The next morning, bright and early I set off on my adventure west.

-o0o-

The drive across the country was interesting in places, but seemed endless. I took the northern route, going through Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Iowa and Washington, and I had to keep stopping to walk around, because my back wasn’t enjoying sitting still. Since I was mostly on interstates there was a deadening sameness about the trip, except for some changes in the type of landscape. Interstates also meant the food choices were always the same. Don’t get me wrong; sometimes I enjoy each of those ubiquitous restaurants and fast food places, but not three times a day every day!

When I finally pulled into Baker City, Oregon late one night I was exhausted, and totally sick of driving. Idly I wondered if I could find a place to live within walking distance of my new job, and never have to drive again. Finding a motel near the highway was no problem, and I sank instantly into sleep.

Things worked out well, taking a few days to find a place to rent, and then starting the new job. Once I got comfortable I indulged in cross-dressing almost all the time I was at home. Back in Indianapolis I never knew when Vicky might show up—she had a key—so very careful planning had always been needed. I tried to be more outgoing at work, hoping to make some friends, but somehow only ended up with acquaintances. I’m just not very good at being an extrovert, and I think the people I met found my new personality a bit forced. Also, it seemed like one of those towns where you have to be a native in order to be accepted. So I was pretty lonely. Yes, I could pick up stakes again and try somewhere else, but that’s a lot of work.
.

---

.

The morning of the wedding Vicky got Sam’s text and sent a message back to see if someone else could possibly help out Aunt Zelda, just for a day, but there was no answer. A phone call went to voicemail. In fact there was never again an answer from him. All along she just had a feeling that somehow he would not be at the wedding, which was why she kept pestering him about it. Anyhow since today was the wedding she had to put her attention on that. It was a happy affair, in spite of him not being there to share it, and then the honeymoon, which was wonderful.

Once back from the honeymoon she kept trying to get in touch with Sam, but without success. She started to wonder if he had been killed on his way there… a car wreck? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? She stopped by his place, and it had already been rented to another tenant! What in the world happened to him? His aunt’s condition was so serious he was forced to actually move there?? He would have let her know. And where was there? He’d never told her, and there was no one to ask. No parents, and his sister had moved god-knows-where.

Pete didn’t appear too upset about Sam’s disappearance. “He’ll turn up eventually,” he said. The truth was that Pete had made a real effort to be nice to Sam, because he knew he was important to Vicky. He hardly considered Sam to be The Competition (as indeed he wasn’t). Personally he thought he was something of a wimp and a loser. He had been pretty sure Vicky would drop Sam after they were married and there was a real man around. Instead he had just disappeared, which was convenient for Pete.

Over the next year Vicky periodically brought up the missing Sam, and Pete was getting tired of hearing it. One day he reached his limit. “Why do you really want to find that loser?” Oops. Vicky was shocked. “Is that what you always thought of him?” Uncomfortably he admitted it. “Well, I mean, yeah. He’s not much of a success, and not even much of a man.” Seeing her expression, he added, “Nice enough, though.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you have anything to do with his disappearance?”

“No! I swear I know nothing about it! How could you even ask me that?!”

After that she began to look at Pete a little differently. Neither knew it, but it was the beginning of the end of their marriage. She realized now that he was only being nice to Sammie to seem more appealing to her. But over this past year he hadn’t been there for her the way Sammie always had been. After work he spent a lot of time drinking with the guys, belittled some of her ideas in a way Sammie never would have. They got along well enough, but she thought marriage was more than just “getting along.” She found herself comparing him to Sammie more and more, and he wasn’t coming out well in the comparison.

There were arguments and then making up, which started to occur more often. She could feel herself slowly falling out of love with him. After another year and a half they decided to call it quits. They were not as compatible as they both thought. Fortunately the divorce was amicable.

Vicky had finally admitted to herself that she made the wrong choice with Pete. Her thoughts turned to Sammie. She had never really thought of him as boyfriend material, let alone husband material. He was more like… a girlfriend, now that she thought of it. He knew what made her tick, listened to her, and was so generous with his time. They could discuss anything, including things she would not expect a boy to want to talk about. And those earrings he got her as a wedding gift... they were something she had casually mentioned wanting, oh, years ago. And he remembered… It wasn’t possible he was in love with her…was it?

She missed him.

What happened to him?

-o0o-

Sam, meanwhile, was in a funk. He missed Vicky, and as lousy as his life seemed back home, it was fuller than this life was. After a year of trying to fit in at Baker City he finally forced himself to make another move, this time to Bellingham, Washington. He found a rental on 32nd street and after he settled in with his new job as inventory manager, joined a CD social club. They just got together and had a good time. Sometimes they’d meet and discuss issues of importance to their group. Joanne Macintosh was the unofficial leader and counselor. Some men came with their wives. For the purpose of this club Sam used the name Sammie. It was easy to remember and reminded him of Vicky.

Joining the group turned out to be a good move for Sam, and he made several friends there. He improved in his dressing, was more confident in general, and got brave enough to go to the meetings already dressed. And with a wig and improved makeup skills, to his eye he looked nothing like Sam.

-o0o-

He’d been in Bellingham about a year and a half and had prepared to go to the club one Sunday evening when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and was fully dressed and made up for the meeting. But since he was a lot more confident about his appearance these days, he went to the door and opened it. His jaw almost hit the floor. It was Vicky. How in the world did she track him down? She looked at him inquiringly, and asked, “Excuse me, but is this where Sam Carter...” and then saw past the makeup and wig.

“Sammie? Is that really you? What the hell?!”

“Oh…Vicky,” his heart fell on hearing these less-than-kind words from the woman he had loved.

Her face took on an ugly expression he had never seen on it before. “You’re a…drag queen??” she spat the words as if they were some sort of excrement. “Or did you have IT cut off? No wonder you left town!”

This felt to him remarkably like being punched in the stomach. Before he could reply, she continued.

“Wow, I can’t believe this! I mean, I used to kind of think of you as more of a girlfriend, but not literally! This is—I don’t know. I don’t think I can deal with it. You are really sick. Pervert!”

Her treatment made his heart break, but he didn’t let it show. “Is there something you wanted?”

She looked back at him. “Well, not anymore.” That was said with a sneer.

To show she hadn’t hurt him, he forced a smile onto his face and said brightly, “All righty then. Bye!” He shut the door in her face, walked back into the living room and sat down, his pulse hammering. That had felt like being in a fight, a fight in which he had nothing to defend himself. He thought he knew her. Never would he have pegged her as someone so intolerant. It was a complete shock to see someone he thought so highly of behave so poorly, and he found himself shaking from emotion. You could think all you wanted that you knew someone well, but until you challenged their concepts of what was so-called normal, you didn’t.

He sat there feeling fragile, wondering if he could still bring himself to go to the meeting. If he did he could commiserate with others, but then he’d have to relive it again—not that he wasn’t already doing that.

Without even thinking about it he found himself walking into his bedroom and lying down. Vicky, once his closest friend, had treated him like garbage just because of the way he looked. Unbelievable. It made him so sad to think she could treat anyone at all like that, let alone him. His mind went in circles with these thoughts until he fell asleep.

-o0o-

Vicky, having driven back to her motel, was still incredulous about finding her one-time best friend pretending to be a woman. Was it a joke? It was so creepy to see a man wearing a dress. Ick! You thought you knew someone!... No wonder he snuck out of town the way he did! She felt angry that she hadn’t known about this.

She thought about this disgusting situation for a while, looked at the time, and then took herself across the street to have dinner at an upscale diner. First she simmered down several degrees, and during the meal her mind was more or less a blank. The meal was eaten mechanically; she didn’t even taste it.

When she came back to the motel, much calmer after a normal event like eating a meal, she lay on the bed with her hands clasped behind her head, still thinking about him. In a way she was sorry this happened; she had really looked forward to seeing him again. He was such a nice guy … It was hard to reconcile that with someone who dressed himself up like a two-dollar whore.

She stopped herself. Now that she could think about it calmly, he really didn’t look bad at all. More like a—an overdressed office girl than a whore. Kind of on the attractive side too.

But what would make him do that?

Then she let her thoughts wander, and they led her to a darker place she didn’t really want to go: The Attack, as she still thought of it. Before she met Sam—she must’ve been about thirteen or fourteen—she and her friend Beth had been coming home at dusk across the park. A horrible man in an ugly dress had jumped out of the bushes, yelled, “Hey girls!” and frightened them to death. He lifted the skirt to show them his thing, and then started to chase them, but they were both on the school track team and easily outran him.

That had been scary and awful, and had left a lasting impression on her. She had tried hard to block it out, and mostly succeeded. But now, seeing Sam like that, it all came back in garish detail. Thinking back to that guy, he had been really pathetic, twisted in the head to do something like that.

She tried to let the memories of that ooze away. Even from her adult perspective she could still recall just how frightened she was. She inwardly shook her head to stop thinking about it, and get her thoughts back to Sammie.

Unlike that creep, Sammie was someone she had known for years, and he never seemed like someone who would try and chase teenage girls, or expose himself, or try to scare them. He was always so…good, considerate, generous, sensitive. Those descriptors came easily to mind, and they weren’t an exaggeration.

Now, in this calmer state of mind, she asked herself if she could be projecting this bad experience on to Sam. She was reasonably sure she knew him well enough to recognize he was no pervert. She didn’t know why he wanted to present himself as a woman, but she could see now that she had overreacted, and with a truckload of misplaced anger. Tomorrow she’d go back, apologize, and try to find out what it was all about.

-o0o-

Sam awoke that same evening, and the encounter with Vicky came right back into his mind. He looked at the clock: it was eleven. He’d missed the meeting, as well as dinner. Sighing, he took off the wig, got out of his clothes, put on a robe, cleaned off his face and then padded into the kitchen to have a little snack. He shook his head whenever he thought of Vicky. Well, he guessed, he wouldn’t have to miss her anymore. How could she— no, he wasn’t going to think about this right now.

He brushed his teeth and went to bed.

The next day was Monday, a work day. Some of his co-workers noticed he was rather subdued, but he waved their concerns away. When he left the office for the day he decided to get dinner out, and didn’t get home until 8. When he got near his house he saw Vicky’s car in front. Not wishing to hear any more uncharitable comments, he drove right past his house and out to the business district, where he parked in a lot. What was she doing there? When would it be safe for him to come home?

Well, as long as he was here, he went into Hole Foods and did a bit of grocery shopping, taking his time. By the time he drove back it was 9 p.m., and, thankfully, her car was gone. He pulled into his garage and shut the door. Getting the groceries inside he put them away and then went to the front to get whatever was passing for mail today. Most of it was garbage and bills, but there was also a piece torn out of a notebook, no doubt from Vicky. He really wasn’t sure he wanted to read it, but sighed and unfolded it.

“Dear Sammie,

Please forgive me for overreacting to you yesterday. Your appearance brought back an ancient and awful memory, and I took the bad actions of someone else out on you. I hope we can still see each other. I’m at the Sea Breeze Motel, room 115. And my phone number is still the same.

With love,
Vicky”

Always nice to have an apology. But it would have been better if she had thought before saying what she did. Maybe he could forgive her, but did that mean he wanted to see her? She had looked at him with real hatred in her eyes. He could still feel the aftereffects from that laser-like glare—as if the look had burned him—and was in no hurry to put himself in a position to re-experience it. He wasn’t sure he could recall anyone ever speaking to him with as much venom. The fact that the person who did it was supposedly his friend made it twice as painful.

If he were, theoretically, to go and see her, of course he’d be in male clothes, but she now knew and would wonder about the CD part of his life. She would want to know how, why, when, and he just didn’t think he wanted to deal with discussing it with her. Not after yesterday.

If he told her all discussion about that subject was off-limits, it would still be there, always, lurking in the background. And it wouldn’t be fair to her to set rules about what they could or couldn’t talk about. He just didn’t see any easy way out of this situation. Things had been going along fine before she showed up. He guessed he could continue to live without her.

-o0o-

As the days passed with no reply or visit from Sam, Vicky was becoming very disheartened. She spent a lot of time driving around, seeing the sights, getting to know the area, but all the time wondering how she was going to get back in his good graces.

One evening as she sat watching an old romance film in her motel room, observing as the man pursued and wooed the woman, she began to get an idea. She would have to woo Sam. Maybe he wasn’t a woman, but he’d always been very sensitive, and, she could see in retrospect, very much like a female in his emotional life. Yes, she had screwed up big time, but in the movies the man just kept up his campaign until the woman always caved in. Maybe it was a lame idea, but she didn’t know what else to do. A confrontation wasn’t going to do any good. Evidently her written apology hadn’t had any effect. She needed to show him that his, uh, hobby, didn’t change how she felt about him.

She sent a bouquet of flowers to his house, along with a card with another sincere apology. There was no response. She was getting desperate; she couldn’t stay there forever to try and iron this out.

Next she did some research online about transvestites, which led to articles about cross-dressing, transgender, gender identity and so on. Given how she had viewed him as more of a girlfriend she did wonder if he could be transgender, and did that mean he was interested in men? No, she would have sensed that.

Then she had an inspiration and searched for some kind of support group where she could get some insight into this sort of lifestyle. There was one such group not far from where Sammie lived, and she phoned the contact person. She had a long conversation with a woman named Joanne, during which she explained how she had discovered her friend dressed and was cruel to him because of The Attack. She told her the story of her history with Sammie and let her know she and Sam had been best friends before her marriage, and then how he had just disappeared.

“Vicky,” Joanne said slowly, “what you did to him was many cross-dressers’ worst nightmare. On average these men are very sensitive, and they would take a reaction like that very hard. That doesn’t mean your friend won’t eventually get over it, but I have to assume you really hurt him.”

Vicky didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t take it back, and just wanted to make things right with Sammie.

“What I want to know is, why do they want to dress up like that? It makes my skin crawl.”

“There are a wide variety of reasons, Vicky, and they run the gamut of actually wanting to be a woman to getting a sexual thrill from it, and everything in between. You’d have to ask your friend why he does it, but it can be a difficult subject to discuss. You should also know that it usually isn’t something they can just stop doing. Also, if I had to guess, I’d think your reaction is colored by your early experience with that flasher.”

“That could be true… But does it mean he’s gay?”

“The great majority of cross-dressers are heterosexual.”

“But that makes it even more confusing.”

“All I can say is that humans are complicated creatures. I personally think it’s a pity that such a big deal is made of it. They’re not hurting anyone, and it’s really just garments and appearances.”

“Well, you have really helped me, Joanne. I don’t know if Sammie will forgive me or not, but at least I understand a bit more.”

“Why don’t you come to our next meeting? Talk to some of the couples that come here and get their perspective. It’s on Saturday evening.”

“Okay, I will! Thank you!”

After ending the call Joanne wondered if the Sammie she had mentioned could be the same Sammie who was a member of their group. She would keep her eye out on Saturday.

-o0o-

On Saturday evening Vicky showed up at the meeting early. It was at Joanne’s house, a five thousand-square-foot place with a view overlooking Bellingham Bay. She was apprehensive about seeing a lot of men wearing women’s clothing, but she had to do this to get past her fears. When she introduced herself Joanne greeted her warmly. Vicky couldn’t tell if she was a man or woman, and she made herself stop thinking about it as they talked; it really wasn’t important.

Within a half hour the place was filling up and Vicky had talked to several couples. The men were almost always dressed more femininely than the women, and many of them were very obviously men in dresses. She found herself developing a sympathy for the men who would never be able to successfully look like a woman. Some looked at her with a longing, which made her feel kind of funny. Vicky, who was gorgeous, was more used to being ogled for her looks by men than these looks, which spoke of wanting to be her. She didn’t feel the panic or the anger she had felt with Sammie, which was reassuring.

Most of the wives she spoke with were either fine with their husband cross-dressing or at least accepting. Many of them agreed that their husband’s feminine side meant they had more of an appreciation for what women went through. There were one or two she sensed did not want to be there but were making the best of it. But those she spoke with who were relaxed about being there told her it was fun, and they enjoyed seeing their husband get dolled up. A few thought it was pretty sexy and they had some of their best sex while the husband was en femme. That gave Vicky pause. Really??

She was in the middle of a conversation when someone came up behind her and said, “Vicky??”

She turned and there was Sammie, all dressed up again. She gave him a joyful look and rose to give him a hug, but he backed away, looking very unhappy. He had never again wanted her to see him dressed.

“What…What are you doing here?” She was invading his turf.

“I’m getting educated on something I knew very little about,” she answered.

Before he could reply to that, Joanne, who had been waiting for this moment, appeared almost like magic and took his arm. “Let’s go into my office, Sammie, okay?”

He allowed her to lead him away, and after she closed the office door they sat down on the small couch in there.

“Before you say anything, she had no idea this was the group you belonged to. But tell me why you’re so unhappy to see her, Sammie.”

Glad to tell someone about it, he started out, “She was very unpleasant to me. Tried to make me feel like I was a horrible pervert because she walked in on me and I was already dressed for the meeting here.”

“But she did try and apologize, didn’t she?”

“Well, yes, but I felt like everything I knew about her was called into question. She had never, ever acted anything like that all the years we knew each other. I never saw her treat anyone as badly as she treated me, supposedly her friend. And all just because of my appearance. It really hurt me.”

“I see. Did she say anything about why she may have reacted like that?”

“In a note she did allude to some old trauma, but I didn’t think that was much justification for treating a so-called friend that badly.”

“Okay. Well, as long as you’re here together, why don’t we find out the truth about that?”

Sam wanted to protest, but let her go and bring Vicky back to the office. She came in hesitantly, obviously worried about how he would react. She and Joanne sat down opposite him.

“Sammie, I know you’re not happy with me, but I want you to know why I acted like that.” And she told him how she and her friend had been frightened and almost attacked by a man in a dress, and how traumatized she had been.

“I really tried to block it out of my mind, and I thought I had done that…until I saw you in a dress. That was so unexpected that it brought that whole incident back, and I let loose on innocent you—since you were right in front of me—all the anger I always wanted to lay on that creep. I’ve felt terrible about this since it happened, or, well, when I cooled down and realized how badly I had overreacted. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Sam was torn. He did feel empathy for her bad experience, but he had also changed his whole life by leaving her back in Indiana. Were they still friends? What was she even doing here in Washington?

Joanne sensed his dilemma and asked Vicky to give them some time alone.

“What’s troubling you, Sammie?”

“I dunno. She showed me a side of herself I never knew existed, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Now I feel like maybe she could go off on me for some other reason as well. When I left Indiana it was to make a fresh start, without her. She had chosen another guy over me and I could see she wouldn’t need me anymore. What I’m saying is that I kind of started a new life without her, fresh, and then here she is. And the first thing that she does is treat me like crap and…” he stopped, thinking for a while.

“We used to be really close. I was in love with her, but she never considered me to be anything other than a close friend. It hurt when she married that guy, and I didn’t want to stay there and see it, so I left. Now, even if I forgive her, she’ll still be across the country and will still think of me as just a friend. I just don’t know…Until she arrived here and surprised me I think I would have been happy to resume our friendship. Now, I’m thinking it might be better just to cut her out of my life.” He sat there, looking at his hands in his lap.

“Sammie, do you really have so many friends that you can afford to ‘cut one out of your life’ because she made an admittedly big mistake? You don’t look very happy about this idea of yours. Did you even notice how elated she was to see you tonight?”

“I saw her smile, if that’s what you mean.”

“You mean a lot to her. Maybe it’s not my place to tell you this, but her marriage only lasted about two and a half years. I don’t know if you’re the first person she thought of when she was free, but it didn’t take her long to come all the way out here to try and reconnect. Maybe she doesn’t see you as just a friend.”

“I don’t… I’m getting confused about all this. I need time to think.”

“That’s a good idea, Sammie. But don’t take too long. I’m sure she’ll have to go back home soon, and it would be better for both of you if you didn’t leave this unresolved.”

-o0o-

After slipping out the back door, Sam got in his car and drove aimlessly for a while. Then he remembered Fairhaven Park, in southern Bellingham, and headed there. It should be pretty quiet at this time of day. He pulled into the empty parking lot as dusk was falling and just sat in his car, trying to make some kind of sense of this situation he found himself in.

If he hadn’t been dressed in women’s clothes when Vicky showed up everything would have been so different. He would still feel the same about her, and they probably would have gone to dinner and had a good time. She had never ever mentioned the flasher incident to him in all the years they’d known each other. That was understandable, if it was as traumatic as she made it sound.

He heaved a big sigh and thought everyone deserved a second chance, even if they really hurt the other person, but for some reason it was hard to think whether or not to give Vicky that second chance. Deciding to leave the decision to a higher power, he said, out loud, “Okay, if I’m supposed to give Vicky another chance, I need a sign. How about, um…a stile, as in a turnstile!” He wanted to pick something weird, and it didn’t seem likely any sort of stile was going to show up in this little park at this hour. It didn’t have an entrance gate, so he felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t get his sign.

He sat there for twenty more minutes as it darkened, listening to the crickets and other nature sounds, and when he was about to give up a car pulled up near his. Uh oh. What a way to be caught!

He looked over at the man, who was getting out of the car, along with a woman getting out on the other side. They were both ignoring his car, thank goodness. The man seemed to be unnaturally tall and skinny. He and the woman talked as they started walking into the park. At that point it hit Sam that the man was Ryan Stiles, the actor! How weird!

Deciding he had given it enough time he started his car and was pulling out of the parking lot when it further occurred to him that Ryan Stiles was as close to a stile as it could get here in the park. He began laughing hysterically. A celebrity stile was not what he had in mind, but whatever! He guessed Vicky would have her chance!

-o0o-

Back at Joanne’s house Vicky kept looking for Sammie to emerge from the office, but when Joanne walked over to her, she didn’t know what to think.

“Where’s Sammie, Joanne?”

“He came out of the office about ten minutes ago. Isn’t he here?”

“No, I haven’t seen him. Were you able to get through to him?”

“The last thing he said was that he needed time to think, Vicky. My guess is that he slipped out of the house.”

Seeing Vicky’s shoulders fall, she put a hand on her arm and said, “Don’t feel badly. He needs to get all this information straight in his head. Don’t give up yet, dear.”

Vicky stayed for another hour, in case Sammie returned, but no such luck. She had to admit that the people there were, on the whole, very pleasant, and no threat. Passing all the couples as she got up to leave. She wondered what it might be like if she spent time with Sammie while he was en femme. She got in her car and headed back to the motel, by which time it was getting dark. After she got her jacket off and settled down to perhaps try and watch television, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Sammie!

“Thanks to Ryan Stiles you got a second chance!”

That left her very confused.

“Ryan Stiles, the comedian?”

“That’s the one. I will call you in the morning.”

She really wanted to know now what in the world Stiles had to do with the two of them, but now was not the time to press him. She was just glad he was willing to talk to her.

-o0o-

True to his word Sam phoned Vicky in the morning, and they made arrangements to have breakfast together in the diner across from her motel. Of course he arrived in his male persona, looking just as she remembered, and she was almost disappointed.

She hoped for a hug, but he stuck out his hand. That didn’t bode well in her mind.

They went inside, were seated in a booth and ordered their food. Sam kept looking up at her. Finally he broke the silence.

“I just want you to know that I’m still not comfortable with you.”

“But…why not? I explained why I acted like I did.”

“All the years we knew each other you never knew I had another side to me, and I never knew you had that traumatic event. I thought I knew you, but I don’t have any idea if there are other secrets in your life that might cause you to go off on me again.”

“Oh Sammie…” she said sadly. “You know me better than anyone. You know I’m not really that bitch.”

“I sure thought I knew you, yes. I had never ever seen you act like that before, and the first time I ever saw it the hate was directed at me. I can’t remember anyone ever looking at me with such naked disgust and anger before. And the person doing it was you, someone who was supposed to be my friend.” He said all this calmly, but inside he was not sure what he was feeling. It was not calmness.

She didn’t know what to say. This didn’t seem like a second chance so far.

“Joanne told me your marriage is already over,” he said. “What happened?”

A little jarred by the change in subject, she took a moment. “Well, one thing was that I kept asking what had happened to you. You had just vanished without a trace… Pete finally got tired of hearing it and his true feelings were exposed. He had been pretending to like you in order to look better to me.”

He shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry to hear it, Vicky. You sure seemed like you were in love with him.”

“Like many men he acted one way while we were dating, and then another way after we were married. Plus he was never as kind and considerate as you were. He spent a lot of time after work drinking with his buddies, and getting home really late. He just wasn’t there for me the way you were. It was like once he landed the fish, he didn’t want to eat it.”

After a little silence, combined with his blank look, she said, “Maybe that wasn’t the best analogy! Let’s say he just didn’t want to spend time with me once he had me.”

Sam hadn’t felt that any of the men she’d dated had been there for her. Now, although he felt bad for her, he wasn’t sure he wanted to listen to this. Hearing compliments always made him feel uncomfortable. Fortunately she went on to the next bit of her story.

“So after the divorce I started searching for you in earnest. The internet makes it easier in some ways.”

There was another silence as the food was delivered to their table, and they began to eat.

“Um, Sammie, do you mind if I ask how long have you been a, a cross-dresser?”

“I started dressing when I was about twelve years old.”

“Your sister’s old clothes, I presume?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. I can’t believe I never knew, as close as we were…”

“It’s not something most guys advertise, even to their close friends. There’s too much potential for disaster, as you know personally.”

A stab of guilt pierced her. Then another question occurred to her. “Why did you really leave town and break off all contact?”

At this point there was no reason not to tell her. “I just couldn’t watch you marry him.” He was quiet for a minute. “And then… you wouldn’t really need me anymore—I thought Pete would be there for you. Also I thought I could make a completely fresh start somewhere else. Try and put more pizzazz into my life in a place where no one knew me and thought of me as a loser.”

“You are not a loser! And of course I still need you; you’re a part of my life!”

“Thanks, but I think we both know I’m pretty much the opposite of the Type A personality group. In Indianapolis I was in a dead-end job, and everyone was sure I’d never get anywhere.”

“So what are you doing for a job now?”

“Uh, inventory control in a warehouse for an auto parts distributor.”

“A step up from file clerk, sounds like.”

“Yeah, it’s a good job, and I make more than I did. You’re still at the same place?”

“Yes. My job has pretty good bennies.”

The conversation petered out after that. She couldn’t think what she could say to regain his trust, and was wondering if their friendship was over. Once they were finished with their meals she sat looking at him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Sammie, are you going to forgive me?”

Now he looked at her. “I can forgive you, but I just don’t know how I can trust you.”

Her heart was breaking as she realized the depth of hurt her act had inflicted on him. She felt like crying.

“I… I really hope you will try, and I will swear to the best of my ability never to treat you like that again. Sam, you are a very important person to me, and one of the most understanding people I know. I know I made a big mistake, but I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who hasn’t made a mistake now and then.”

He looked at her, turning that over in his mind. He certainly hadn’t led a blameless life. It also got his attention that she used Sam rather than Sammie. “You’re right. That’s true.”

“And in the time we’ve known each other have I ever given you cause to think I’m an intolerant bitch?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Then please, let’s put this behind us, and be my friend again. It feels like you’re letting this one incident erase all the good times we had and how you felt about me.”

How I felt about you… Did he dare mention how he had really felt about her for so long? It would sound like sour grapes. And there was no reason to think that she had changed how she felt about him…in other words, not as a romantic prospect. He absolutely didn’t want to guilt her into a relationship. Maybe he should just go ahead and let her be his plain old friend again, albeit a long-distance one, and forget about anything else. It wouldn’t be as hard now, knowing nothing would ever happen between them. And being all the way across the country would probably make things easier. Plus she’d probably go on to the next jerk, and then break up with him. He sighed.

“Okay, fine.”

“So when I call or text you now you’ll answer?”

“Yes, Vicky.”

She smiled. “Thank you so much. I’ve really missed you, and I think you found a really nice place to live. I like it here.”

“I’ve been enjoying it too. I like how it’s not so flat as a pancake, like Indianapolis.”

“Me too. Oh! You never explained what Ryan Stiles had to do with giving me another chance.”

He laughed. “I had driven to the park to think, just sitting in the car and wondering about second chances. I couldn’t decide whether or not to give you one, so I said, ‘If I’m supposed to give her another chance, show me a stile.’ (like a turnstile) And twenty minutes later he and some woman pulled into the parking lot almost right next to me. Once I figured out that he was the stile I just laughed my head off. I guess he lives around here somewhere.”

Vicky laughed too. “Thank god he showed up!!”

-o0o-

They spent the rest of the day together, walking along the shore, talking just like old times. Sam relaxed and let himself enjoy it. Vicky kept wondering about her feelings towards Sam. They’d always gotten along so well… but did that mean they could be compatible as a couple? And what about his alter-ego? Now that she had learned a lot about cross-dressing, she thought she could handle it if he wanted to dress up with her, but she wondered if it might take some time until she could feel really comfortable with it. Over the hours she did her best to show her appreciation of him, and be free with compliments, but not go over the top; she knew he had trouble hearing good things about himself. She just wanted to make it clear how much she was enjoying his company.

But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself either, so as they parted at the motel that evening, she said, “There’s something I want to try before you go.” They stood facing each other, as Sam wondered what she had in mind. Before he could think about it much further, she put her arms around him and gave him a slow, deep kiss. After his shock wore off he closed his eyes and felt his passion for her ignite, and grabbed her back. The kiss lasted quite a while. When they pulled back from it they didn’t release each other, but stared into each other’s eyes.

She looked kind of speculative. He was about to say something when she went in for another kiss, and there was passion on both sides. She tightened her arms around him, and when this kiss ended she had a nice smile on her face.

“Uhhh, what was that for?” he asked, after he had collected himself.

“It’s something I’d been thinking about for a while, and I had to see how a kiss made me feel. I know you think I’ve always picked the wrong guys, even if you were too polite to say so, and I guess you were right. I’m just wondering now if the right guy wasn’t there all along and I never had a clue.”

Sam was stunned to hear that. Through the years she had never indicated in any fashion that she liked him That Way. His mind raced ahead, wondering what would happen if they became a couple. Would she move to Washington? What about his cross-dressing? Now that he’d been able to do it so freely, he didn’t want it restricted again. What if they didn’t get along? He stopped before he What-If’d himself to death, and told himself to calm down. It was just a kiss. He didn’t know what, if anything, to say in reply.

She put her hand on his cheek and said, “Thank you, Sammie, for a wonderful day.”

She opened her motel room door, turned to wave goodbye with a big smile, and closed the door.

-o0o-

Sam drove home very confused. When the day started he wasn’t even sure if they’d be friends anymore. Now she was considering him as a romantic partner? It didn’t make a lot of sense to him. That kiss, though… that was really nice. No one had ever kissed him like that before. If she was serious about this he wasn’t sure how he would adjust going from friend to boyfriend. Maybe it was a silly thing to wonder about. Well, at least he felt better about her now.

-o0o-

They met again at the diner the following morning for an early breakfast, after which Vicky had to start driving home.

“I really don’t want to leave you now. It’s been more than two years since we really got to see each other, and now, when we’re just getting to know each other again, I have to go back,” she said with an almost-but-not-quite pout.

“We’ll keep in touch,” he said, halfheartedly.

“I’d like to do more than that, Sammie. I may see if I can find a job out here, so we can try and be together.”

“What, are you kidding? Your whole life is back in Indy, your family, friends…your job with the good benefits. Why would you give that up?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she looked at him searchingly. “I want to be with you. I’d really like to give Us a try, if you’re willing.”

His eyebrows rose. He hadn’t really thought she was serious about that. He noticed she appeared to be waiting for an answer.

“Oh, uh, I guess… Sorry, I’m just not used to the idea of you seeing me as a romantic interest after all this time. It may take a while to sink in.”

She gave him a gentle smile, and said, “I understand. And I think I would also like to get to know your other side.”

His eyebrows rose again. Was he still asleep?? “I don’t know… Are you sure about that?”

“Definitely! She’s been a part of you all these years, and we never met. I want to get acquainted with this other woman in your life.”

He contented himself with the fact that this would all probably take months to happen, if it happened at all.

“She’s a lot like me,” he finally answered. Glancing at his watch, he got up and said, “I’ve got to get to work. I hope you have a safe ride home.”

“Thanks Sammie. Let me walk outside with you.”

She walked him to his car and they hugged each other warmly. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and let him go. She watched him drive away and then headed back to her motel to pack and leave.

-o0o-

Vicky wasted no time once she was back home in searching for a job in Bellingham. With an MBA degree she was much more sought after than Sam ever was, and it didn’t take long before she landed a responsible job at a medium-big corporation. She texted Sam every day to keep up the bond she was reestablishing, and called him almost every evening. As she worked out her month’s notice at her current job she looked for houses online. She didn’t want to presume she could simply move in with Sam, and also his house looked a bit small for her taste. If things worked out maybe he would move in with her!

Sam was still having a bit of trouble believing this chain of events. A loving relationship with Vicky was something he had always wanted, but presumed was never going to happen. Now she seemed to be working hard to ensure it would. Her statement about wanting to get to know his femme side was sort of scary. Now that she’d learned something about CDs, he was sure she would never act as horribly as she did when she first got here, but he had never even entertained the thought of sharing this side of himself with her. He wasn’t even sure what to hope for.

-o0o-

In what seemed to Sam a remarkably short time Vicky was back, with a good job and her own house. She invited him over constantly, and gradually felt he had gotten over his trust issues. They were back to their old pleasant relationship, except that she was pushing for more. There was lots of kissing and snuggling. If he had thought about it critically, he would have realized she was treating him very tenderly, wooing him in fact.

Once she had been there a couple of months she asked if he minded if she went with him to the CD group meeting. This was her way of easing herself into getting to know the Sammie side of him before she asked to spend time alone with “her.”

“I don’t see why not,” Sam replied. “You don’t actually need me to go. I mean, there are no membership fees or anything.”

“Yes, Sammie, but I want us to go as a couple. Don’t you think that might be nice?”

“Um. Sure.”

And she started attending the meetings and getting to know more of the people there. It wasn’t long before she was becoming a notable figure there. She was one of those people who seem to rise to the top no matter what kind of group they’re in. Both the men and the women admired her style and success. Sam didn’t mind this, but he felt more in the background than he was used to while there. Joanne was quietly keeping an eye on him to monitor how he was doing having Vicky in his life.

After about three months of attending the meetings Vicky asked to spend some time alone with the female Sammie. She had observed him at the meetings, and it did seem to her he acted naturally feminine. Maybe his behavior seemed more consonant with whichever gender he was presenting. In his male guise she had never thought of him as acting or moving in an especially feminine way. Maybe this just happened naturally when he put on the clothes?

Since by now Sam was used to her seeing him en femme, he agreed to her request, although he didn’t understand what the difference would be for her. He felt he was the same person either way.

Saturday she came to his house in time for lunch, and he was already dressed up.

“Hi Sammie! You look very nice today.”

“Thank you. You do also. Come in.”

They had a leisurely meal, which he cooked, and made their usual conversation.

“So Sammie, how would you feel about going down to the Bay and just walking, maybe on the Taylor Boardwalk?”

“Uhh, Vicky, I don’t really ‘go out’ when I’m dressed, other than to the meetings. I’m too afraid of being clocked. And anyway, don’t you think I’m a little too dressed up for something like that?”

“I agree you are a bit overdressed for a walk like that. Don’t you have any casual clothes?”

“Not really, no. For CDs like me, the idea is to appear and feel feminine, so I’d bet most of us don’t have stuff like, say, sweats to hang around in. It’s hard enough for us to look feminine in dresses.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you look pretty good.”

“Well, um, thanks, but I think I would be too nervous to go out like that.”

She thought for a minute. “What if we went out at dusk? There should hardly be anyone there by then. And if you want, we can go to my house where I have some more casual clothes you could probably fit into. What do you say?”

Going out on the Boardwalk might be nice. And at dusk people shouldn’t be able to see his face, probably.

“I may regret this, but it sounds nice.”

“Great!” she smiled. “You have flats, right?”

He nodded yes. He had one pair of heels and one pair of flats.

“Why don’t we go to my place now and see what we can find for you?”

“Okay. Let me just find my flats.”

-o0o-

Once he had them on they got into Vicky’s car and made the short trip to her place. They went straight to her closet.

“Shall I presume you don’t want to wear sweats?”

“You shall, yes!”

“How about this denim skirt? And I have a selection of blouses, if you’d like to choose one.”

The skirt was a simple A-line knee-length one, but feminine enough to satisfy him. He looked through the blouses and chose one with a high collar and full sleeves. It was more formal than Vicky would have chosen for the occasion, but she said nothing about that.

“You should try them on to make sure they fit.”

“Um, yes, good idea.” He was just a little bit shy of undressing in front of her—taking the relationship very slowly they hadn’t progressed that far—but she unzipped his dress and he shrugged out of it, revealing all his shapewear.

Vicky hadn’t really spent a lot of time wondering what gave Sammie his curves, but it was now plain to see: a bunch of garments no woman she personally knew would wear. But she understood a man would have to work a lot harder to get the right shape to pass as a woman. She thought he was kind of sexy in all those foundation garments, and smiled.

Sam noticed. “What are you smiling at?” worried she thought this was funny.

She came close to him and put her arms around his slimmed-down waist. “I like the way you look. That’s some sexy lingerie you have there. I’ve never had anything like that.”

“You don’t need it,” he retorted.

“Well, I like it on you,” she said softly, and started kissing him. After several minutes the action moved to the bed and things escalated until some items had to be removed for access.

-o0o-

Sam had been wondering how they were going to spend the hours until dusk, but he needn’t have worried. He lay there contentedly pressed against Vicky, her arm around him, thinking that this was the first time they had ever had sex and it was while he was still Sammie. The whole situation was mind-boggling.

If Vicky had been worried this would be like Lesbian sex, her fears were now proven groundless. Too, she now had an idea of what the women at the club meant when they said the sex was good when their partner was dressed. She propped herself up on one elbow and found pleasure running her free hand over his feminine shape, as men had done with her.

At 5 they got up and cleaned themselves up. Then he put on the skirt and blouse, which did fit. As he looked in the full-length mirror she came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

“You look good. I’m not used to seeing you in such a casual mode.”

“Thanks. I guess it does look okay.”

“Let me finish it off with a scarf,” she said, and went to find one. Bringing it back she tied it loosely around his neck.

“Hey, that makes a lot of difference!”

“Tricks of the trade, Babe.”

While he was working on his makeup she asked, “Can we go out to dinner, Sammie? We can pick somewhere on the other side of town.”

He froze. “I, I’m…”

“Don’t worry, if anyone tries anything, I’ll kick their ass for you!” Vicky said, with a smile. She really could kick their ass, too, having studied Tae Kwon Do for years. At least her comment got a smile out of him—or… was it her? “Anyhow, I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think you could pass well.”

Although extremely nervous about it, he shrugged and finished touching up his makeup. She drove them to a seafood place near the Bellingham Yacht Club. Although he was so nervous, no one appeared to think they were anything other than two women, and he gradually relaxed a bit.

From Vicky’s point of view, Sammie did seem different than Sam. She was quieter, if that was possible, somewhat more graceful; feminine even in the way she ate. Vicky knew some of how he/she was acting was due to nervousness. But their conversation felt the same as always. Sammie wasn’t quite a different person, but there was a definite difference. She filed all this away in her head for future reference.

Once the meal was over, she drove them to 10th street and Taylor, where they parked. It was darkening up now, and Sammie seemed to appreciate that. They walked out onto the Boardwalk and slowly strolled along it, admiring the evening view of the Bay, not saying much. There was a pleasant breeze, and she put her arm around Sammie, who seemed to melt into her. There were no others in sight out on the Boardwalk, and they turned their heads towards each other at the same moment and gave each other a deep kiss. The setting and their earlier activities today made them feel very close to each other.

“I really like this Sammie,” said Vicky.

Sammie was confused for a minute. “Wait, you ‘really like this, comma’ as in this situation? Or you really like this version of me?”

“This version.”

“Oh. Really? I think I’m the same either way,” he answered.

“There are some subtle differences I’ve noticed. It’s almost like you put out a female vibe this way. It’s very attractive.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Yes, he had spent years perfecting his female persona, but he hadn’t made any special effort as far as projecting female energy, didn’t even know that was possible. What he did know was that hanging out with Vicky right now he was feeling different than he ever had. All those years of cross-dressing had been a solitary pursuit. Interacting with her this way he was feeling a lot more feminine than he usually did while dressed, which he found interesting and maybe somewhat exciting. It was very enjoyable.

Vicky was discovering she enjoyed taking the so-called male role. The wooing, the initiating intimacy and all the rest of it. And it was obvious to her that Sammie was enjoying the female role. Where were they going with this?

The wind picked up a bit, and they both began to feel a little chilled. They turned around and headed home.

-o0o-

“Would you like to spend the night with me, Sammie?”

“I don’t think I can; I have work tomorrow.”

“Welllll, what if I stop and pick up some clothes, and we’ll spend the night at your place?”

“That’d work!”

Vicky was happy he said yes. She didn’t really want to be parted after such a nice day. Plus it might give her another insight into this interesting person if she slept with Sam rather than Sammie.

As they drove back to her place she reflected that Sammie probably knew a lot more about her than she did about him. All through the years not only had she done most of the talking, it was he who had been there for her. She hadn’t much needed to be there for him, she thought. He had hardly dated, and never went steady with any girl long enough to be considered dumped.

-o0o-

They followed through with her plan, and she stayed the night with him, the first night of many. In the following months they grew closer than ever before, and she learned what made him tick. She grew to really appreciate the female Sammie, and Sammie found herself feeling more feminine as she was treated as such.

Probably The End, but who knows? (certainly not the author)

Fuming, I yanked open the door to my office building and stormed out. I drove home maybe a little faster than I should have. When I got inside I knew exactly what I needed: stress relief. In my closet I pulled out my hidden femme clothes and after a quick shower got dressed. I didn’t bother with shoes, makeup or hair; just feeling the lingerie and dress on me was enough to dramatically decrease my stress levels. There was a chance they might go back up soon, though, because this was going to be the day Nicole found out about my dressing.

I brought two glasses into the den, poured myself a half a glass of wine and sat down in the recliner with the footrest up. Ahhh.

I relaxed there another twenty minutes before I heard Nicole’s car.

When she entered the house, she called out, “Honey, are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m in the den,” I called back.

She fussed around doing something in the kitchen before she walked in and saw me. Her eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m relaxing. I had a bad day at work.”

“But, but, why are you wearing a dress? Are you some kind of… pervert?”

“I find it relaxing, and no, I’m not a pervert. Do you think what I wear makes me a different person?”

She sputtered for a little while. I took another sip of wine.

“Come on, have a seat and have some wine. I brought a glass for you.”

“There’s something wrong here.”

“Really? What would that be?”

She looked angry.

“Men don’t wear women’s clothes.”

“Oh? I guess I didn’t know that, because I’ve been wearing them for many years.”

“What?! I think I do need to sit down!”

I poured her a glass of the wine, but she didn’t make a move to take it.

“I don’t understand. You just look wrong.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that. I know I make a pretty ugly woman, but looks are not really why I like to dress up. It just gives me some stress relief, and it does no one any harm. I’m not sure why you’re getting so excited about it.”

“It’s kind of a shock to come home and find your husband in a dress.”

“Well, okay, that part I admit must be true. I never told you about my dressing, partly because I didn’t know what kind of reaction you would have. But today, as I said, I had a really lousy day and my stress level was through the roof. I couldn’t be bothered to hide it from you anymore.”

I could kind of see some of the built-up steam releasing in her as I said that.

“What happened at work?”

“There’s someone there who has been trying to make me look bad, and they got me in trouble with management. I have no way to prove my innocence, but I was raked over the coals and threatened with termination.”

“Oh! Tom, I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you think you’ll be able to find the culprit and exonerate yourself?”

“I suspect I know who it is. To me it seems like there’s only one person with a motive, but how to catch him in the act is the question.”

She tilted her head and looked me over some more. She reached over to pick up her wine and took a small swallow.

“You wouldn’t make that ugly of a woman,” she said.

“Oh, come on, Nicole! I’m kind of broad-shouldered, square-jawed, heavy brow ridge. I’m not even a very good-looking man! A pig in a poke is still a pig. Anyhow, I have never even considered going out in public.”

“I guess I understand that. I don’t find you bad-looking as a man. But if you took some time and tried makeup and a hairdo, at least you’d be less jarring for your wife.”

I looked over at her with raised eyebrows.

“Does this mean you don’t think I’m a pervert anymore?”

She smiled.

“I can understand stress relief, although I don’t get why wearing a dress helps.”

“Well, I can see why a woman wouldn’t think so, since you-all can wear dresses whenever and wherever you want. For some men, though, for whatever reason, it really helps. I can’t even tell you just how much better I felt as I put the dress on. Wow. It was like one of those TV shows where they show you a gauge that’s dangerously inching up into the red zone, and then the hero does something to make it go down just before the place explodes.”

“Gee, that does sound like an awful lot of stress!”

“I couldn’t yell and scream at work, so the level just rose. I couldn’t wait to get home and rip off that suit and tie and get into something softer and more comfortable.”

“So, you’ve been doing this for years?”

“Yep. I started invading my sister’s closet when I was about twelve years old, and as time went on I discovered I felt a lot more relaxed when I was dressed up. I’ve had my own stash of clothes for years now. I don’t dress very often, but I always enjoy it when I do.”

“And I just had no idea…”

“Sorry, Honey. It’s kind of a touchy subject with a lot of people. A cross-dresser is always afraid of reactions like yours, but today I just decided I didn’t care how you took it. I was prepared for much worse, even with my lousy day.”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

I reached over and took her hand. We smiled at each other.

“Thank you, Honey. You’ve just helped my stress level drop a lot further.”

She sat back and sipped her wine.

“So, how do we catch this scummy guy?”

“I have a sort of an idea. On a regular basis he’s been hacking into my accounts and changing numbers. What if I hid a webcam somewhere behind him in his office, and recorded him in the act?”

“Sounds good. The camera would have to be good enough to show what he was doing though.”

“I can think of a shelf with some clutter on it I think I could hide a small webcam on.”

We got up and went to the computer and looked up Nanny Cams. We found a micro HD video cam that was about as big as the cap of a magic marker. That would be easy to hide! And it wasn’t that expensive either. I ordered it.

-o0o-

Two weeks later I presented my collected video evidence and the jerk was fired. The resolution on the images was good enough to see him opening up my accounts. He had wanted my job ever since he was hired, and apparently trying to work his way up to it had never occurred to him.

Nicole and I went to dinner to celebrate. When we got back home she finally asked to see my collection of women’s clothes.

“Hey, you have some pretty nice things here. Too bad they wouldn’t fit me.”

“Nicole, you have excellent taste, and you always look great.”

She turned to me and gave me a sweet kiss.

“Will I ever see your alter-ego again?”

“That will depend on how stressed I get.”

The End.

Devon, at least, thought he grew up a normal enough boy. He was the younger brother of Ilona, and the two of them got along very well. His grades were decent, but he was one of those kids who are mostly unnoticed. His classmates knew his name, but no one ever made an effort to befriend him. There was something about him that neither the guys nor the girls could figure out, so they left him alone.

After years of this he was used to being alone, though often he wished he had at least one friend. He wasn’t sure what it was about him that put people off. He dressed in normal clothes, didn’t have B.O. as far as he knew, and he was neat enough.

But there was something buried deep inside him that he barely was aware of: he was very interested in how girls looked. Granted, that’s a normal thing for a teenage boy, but he had a lot more interest in their clothes and how they fit than in their faces. Those were interesting too, but he marveled at the differences between the sexes. How could girls be shaped so differently? The body shape really made the clothes look great. What was it that made them cute, where similar features on a boy would make him look weird or too pretty? These sorts of thoughts went through his head all the time, but for him they were like simple background noise. It may have been that the girls thought he was ogling them, but he was looking more at their clothes than their physicality.

The deeper part of this went on at a mostly subliminal level inside Devon, and he never tried to dig deeper to find out exactly what it was about girls clothing that caught his interest. He was under the impression that what he was thinking was what everyone else was also thinking.

-o0o-

In university things started to change for him. In his French class there was a very nice girl, Lauren, who sat next to him, and she seemed to take an actual interest in him. She asked him if he’d like to study with her. He was surprised, but agreed.

As they slowly got to know each other she tried drawing him out, to find out who he really was. It was very hard work. All she could actually see was a very shy boy who hardly spoke. But he seemed to have a pleasant enough personality when they spent time together. He didn’t stare at her chest, which she appreciated.

For a while she wondered how interested he was in her, because he never ever took the initiative. Everything they did was her idea. He would almost always go along with whatever she suggested, but she somehow never got the impression he was a pushover. So they studied together, and sometimes went for meals. She felt comfortable and safe with him. She began to wonder how her three girlfriends would like him and decided to find out.

They had planned for a get together one Friday evening at her friend Marcie’s apartment, and she brought Devon along, having warned her friends ahead of time. Julia was a little put out to have a boy there, but Lauren asked her to just give him a chance.

When Devon arrived, with Lauren, he was surprised to find he was one of a group; he was certainly not used to more than one person at a time, and he was ill at ease for a while.

Pizzas were ordered and delivered, while the girls and Devon sat around just talking. Each of them attempted to get him to open up, but he was very close-mouthed. He felt he didn’t have much to contribute, and it was even harder to get him to talk in a group. When he got up to go to the bathroom the girls started talking to Lauren about him.

“Wow, he is really shy, isn’t he?”

“Does he ever talk to you, Lauren?”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“Okay, okay, yes, he’s shy, but he’s a really nice guy. We mostly study together, but frankly, no, I don’t know a whole lot about him.”

The sound of Devon returning made them shut up quickly. He could feel that conversation had been cut off as if by an axe blow when he returned, which made him more self-conscious.

Cindy decided to take a more demanding attitude, with direct questions. Maybe he would respond better.

“Hey Devon, where are you from?”

“Um, I’m from a small town in Wisconsin. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Well, uh, I have an older sister, Ilona.”

“Yeah? Is she in college too?”

“She’s in her senior year at Carleton College, in Minnesota.”

“You two get along?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“What about girlfriends? Do you have a sweetheart back in your little town?”

Blushing, he admitted he did not.

Lauren thought this had gone on long enough, it was making Devon nervous again, and it wasn’t very productive. They were just facts.

“Why don’t we watch a movie, girls? Oh, sorry – and Devon.”

They all agreed, popcorn was made, and the movie, a so-called chick flick, was watched. Devon was somewhat exhausted from spending so much time with so many people. When the movie was over he took Lauren aside.

“Uh, Lauren, I’m going to go back to my dorm; I’m really tired.”

“Sure, Devon,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

The rest of the group decided to watch another movie—it was Friday night, after all. They all bid him goodnight, and Devon was the only one to leave.

“Lauren, we need to do something to loosen him up. He’s a nice enough guy, but he’s just too tightly wound.”

“What if we invite him tomorrow when we go shopping?” asked Julia, who had decided she liked him okay.

“What guy wants to go shopping with a bunch of girls?” asked Marcie.

“Well, we can make it shopping, lunch, and…just strolling?” suggested Cindy.

“That could work,” said Lauren. I’ll ask him.” And she texted him Saturday morning.

-o0o-

Devon couldn’t think of a good reason not to go with them. He wasn’t sure about the shopping part and was thinking of asking if he could just meet them for lunch. He texted Lauren about it, and she said no, he needed to shop with them; they all liked him and wanted to spend time with him. He didn’t understand why that would be so, but he shrugged to himself and said okay.

As the girls walked along in the mall, they would stop at each clothing store to look in the window and comment on the clothes. Devon tried not to show how interested he was in the clothes too, but Lauren and Cindy both picked up on the direction of his stares. A few times a couple of the girls would go in and try something on while the rest of them waited outside with Devon. Both Lauren and Cindy had been shopping with a guy along before. Guys did not stand around patiently. Guys got antsy and would say, “I’ll meet you at the food court in a half hour, okay?” They hardly ever looked at the mannequins. As the day progressed, both of them noticed this pattern repeat at each clothing store, and both independently came to the same idea – that Devon was interested in the clothes himself.

As they had the night before they tried to include him in the talk, but he didn’t have much to say. Lauren didn’t want to embarrass him by asking what he thought of this dress or that skirt, and she asked the others not to question him either.

-o0o-

Cindy phoned Lauren that evening so she could find out her impressions.

“Did you notice Devon’s interest in the clothes, Lauren?”

“It was hard to miss, even though I’m sure he was trying not to be obvious about it.”

“My theory is that he’s either trans or a cross-dresser,” said Cindy, who was majoring in Psych. “But the way he acts he might be so buttoned up that he doesn’t even realize it.”

“I thought something similar. I’d like to do something to help him, because even though he’s good-natured, he doesn’t seem to know how to have fun.”

“I agree. But my guess is that if we just offered, like, to dress him, he’d be aghast and never agree to it. It might even drive him away.”

They both thought for a while.

“What if we…somehow put him in a position where he would feel he could experiment?”

“What do you mean?” asked Cindy.

“I’m not sure. Something like, oh, housesitting, and leave a bunch of clothes out. He’d have to be tempted, wouldn’t he? Or—what if we all contributed an article or two of clothing to be donated to a thrift shop and asked him to take it whenever he gets a chance?”

“The first idea would depend on how buttoned up he actually is, and how strong his moral sense is. I can see him being tempted, but thinking it’s wrong to do. The second idea sounds good, but how would we monitor this, or help?”

“Not sure, I only just thought of it. And the first idea has the problem that none of us have a house for him to housesit in. Marcie doesn’t even have a pet for him to pet-sit.”

“Costume party?”

“Or a situation where he would be forced to wear a dress. I once read a story where the boy was visiting his girlfriend in her bedroom when her parents arrived home, and he had to be disguised as a girl so her parents wouldn’t kill him,” said Lauren.

“Really? How realistic do you think that story actually was?” asked Cindy, with a snort of disbelief.

“Well, in that story the boy was pretty enough to pass, and not built like a linebacker.”

“Welllll, Devon is kind of slight, and I could actually see him looking like a girl, with better hair and some makeup.”

“But Cindy, isn’t the whole idea here to tempt him to do it himself, so he can discover this about himself?”

“Or what we suspect he might be like; there could be an entirely different explanation. You know, Lauren, there’s something else—I never actually felt like there was a boy with us today. He doesn’t exude BOYness. I’m not saying he exudes girliness either. Most guys wouldn’t have quietly gone along with us to all those shops.”

“You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it like that but it’s true.”

She was quiet for a minute.

“Okay, let’s think about it and see what we can come up with.”

-o0o-

Devon had enjoyed some parts of the shopping trip. Although he didn’t say much he was getting to enjoy the girls’ company, and it was interesting to be able to just stand there and look at the clothes. In a group it didn’t seem so odd as it would if he were to stand there alone—which he would, of course, never do. He was almost unaware of himself being the only boy in the group.

Anyhow, the clothes were just kind of fun to look at, especially when they were on mannequins. That was all.

-o0o-

The next day Lauren woke up with the perfect plan in her head. She knew Marcie was in the School of Fashion and hoped to design her own clothing line. Part of the coursework was designing a dress for herself for a relaxed kind of party situation. She required a dummy for some of the fitting but couldn’t afford one. She had already brought up the subject with her three friends.

“Do you guys know anyone who’s built like me? I need to do some work on my dress, and, as you know I have no dummy.”

None of them could think of a girl her height—5’9”—with similar measurements.

But now Lauren thought maybe Devon could do it. He looked to be the same height—maybe an inch shorter—and certainly didn’t seem to weigh any more than Marcie. She talked to Cindy about it and she agreed it could work. If they were going to try and do this, Marcie would definitely have to know. Julia? Well, not necessary to think about that right now.

After class that day Lauren and Cindy came to Marcie’s place to broach the subject.

“Marcie, we may know of someone you could use, but it’s kind of a delicate situation,” Cindy started.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the person we’re thinking of is Devon.”

Marcie laughed. “Why in the world would Devon agree to this?”

They looked at each other again.

“We have the feeling he may be transgender. Maybe you didn’t notice, but during our shopping trip the other day he kept staring at all the clothes.”

“You know, I did notice that, but I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“We just thought we’d try to help him out and see if it’s something he might be open to. It might help him be a happier person, if he would recognize the feminine part of his nature.”

“Well, um, what if he doesn’t like it?”

“All he has to do is say no, he won’t do it,” said Lauren.

“Excuse me, Lauren, but to me it seems like he’ll do anything you ask him to,” said Marcie.

“Well then, I’ll try and make it plain that it’s his choice. Are you willing to let him do this?”

“I guess. I don’t care too much who does it as long as someone does. But you’re going to have to make it clear to him that he has to conform to my measurements. That might mean a cincher or corset, bra, padding… Still think he’d go for it?”

“Who knows, but I think we have to try. He’s a nice guy, but he doesn’t know how to enjoy himself.”

Marcie was a year or two older than the other girls, and a Junior. The idea of seeing Devon all dressed up was intriguing.

-o0o-

“Lauren, I don’t think we should give Devon any more information other than Marcie needs him to do this for her grade. If anything else comes of this, it’ll have to come from him, and how he feels dressed up.”

“I agree, Cindy. I’m going to ask him tomorrow.”

And after class the next day, Lauren asked him to come to a study nook, away from prying eyes and ears.

“Devon, I have a huge favor to ask you.”

“Uh, okay. What is it?”

“Our friend Marcie is making a dress for class—you know she’s in the Fashion school—and she needs someone to model it while she makes adjustments and does the hem. The rest of us racked our brains to think of someone who is her height and built kind of like her. You’re the only one I could think of who comes close. It wouldn’t take that long. Do you think you’d be willing to do it for her? She needs to get it done for her grade. And… don’t be afraid to say no.”

Devon’s face had gone through several interesting color changes as he considered this request, but Lauren could gather nothing from his expression. He didn’t really understand how a guy could have a similar build to a girl.

“Really? That’s the favor? I can’t believe she can’t find some other girl. She’s not all that unusually shaped or anything. It seems like a pretty strange thing for me to do.”

“Maybe if she had more time she could find such a girl, but with the time constraint I thought, well, we already know you, and you’re such a decent guy, maybe you’d do it.”

Devon sat and thought about it for a while. It was both exciting and terrifying to think about.

“Would this be at her apartment? ‘Cause I sure wouldn’t want anyone else to see me.”

“Yeah, at her place. I’d be there to help, so, just the three of us.”

That wasn’t strictly true—the plan would include Cindy ‘just stopping by’ and she would admire the final product, as well as help out psychologically if needed, but that could be a surprise.

Although very weird-sounding, it seemed like a safe enough thing to do, and Marcie had been pleasant to him.

“I suppose I could do it. Marcie seems nice, so I wouldn’t mind helping her out.”

Lauren gave a little shriek of happiness and leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks so much! It’ll probably be fun. Girls’ clothes are a lot more interesting than guys’. So do you think you could do it tomorrow?”

“I guess. There’s nothing I have to do after classes.”

“Great! I will let her know we have found her a model!”

-o0o-

That night in his dorm Devon mused about this unexpected development. It might be fun to try. He could admit to himself that he had always admired girls’ clothes, even if he’d never had the urge to wear any. And it might be nice to help someone out of a jam. He had never before been in that position.

That evening Lauren and Cindy went shopping for a cincher, bra, inserts, padding – whatever they thought might be needed for this experiment.

-o0o-

When Devon showed up at Marcie’s apartment after class, Lauren met him at the door and led him in. There was some relaxing light jazz softly playing.

“I’m so glad you decided to help out,” she said.

“Hey Devon, thanks for helping me! I had no idea what I was going to do and I was getting desperate!” said Marcie.

He didn’t really know what to say, so he just said, “Um, no problem.”

“Okay, so first thing is I’ll need to measure you to see what we need to do for you to match me,” said Marcie, grabbing her measuring tape. “Please take off your shirt and pants.”

Devon hadn’t actually thought about the mechanics of how this would work, and he self-consciously shed the two items. Marcie measured his chest, waist, hips, shoulders, and a few other places. They got the bra on him and filled it until he matched Marcie’s bust. It was such an odd sensation. Nothing he had ever worn felt even remotely like the bra. The cincher went on next and felt a lot tighter than he would have imagined such a thing would be. His attention was drawn downward to the bra, and he fell into a sort of daydream state.

“Devon, pull these up,” said Lauren, handing him a pair of padded briefs. As if in slow motion he put them on. The girls added a bit of padding until they too matched Marcie’s shape and measurements. Devon was starting to feel the cold. Marcie noticed and said, “Don’t worry, the dress is next.”

She and Lauren took the dress and lowered it over him. It had a lining, which felt very nice, and a part of him noted that it felt excellent the way it tightened as she zipped it up.

“Marcie, that dress looks great already! And Devon, you look very good.”

Distracted, he turned to her. “What?”

“You look good in that,” Lauren repeated.

Blushing, he said, “Oh. Thank you.”

Lauren thought to herself that probably most boys wouldn’t say ‘thank you’ in such circumstances, perhaps another signal that Devon was transgender? Lauren asked Marcie to stand next to Devon so she could compare the body shapes. They were pretty darned close.

“So Devon, would you please stand on this box?”

Barefoot he stood up on the box and Marcie pinned the hem, which was about knee level. The skirt was full with soft folds. The bodice was fitted and had a vee-shaped neckline, and the sleeves ended near his elbows in little ruffles. Marcie cast a critical eye on the rest of the dress to see how well it fit. There was a very minor place that could use a little tuck, and then the hem and that was it.

Devon was still in his little dream, very much enjoying having the dress on.

“Hey Devon, you should see yourself,” said Lauren. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing his hand. He stepped off the box and she led him to the hallway where there was a full-length mirror. He took a look, starting at the feet, and slowly went up the body, liking what he saw. Lauren saw his smile falter as he reached his head.

“Kind of spoils the effect,” he mumbled.

“Aw, no, you don’t look bad at all. Here, let me change your hair,” she said. Without waiting for a response she grabbed her brush out of her back pocket (strategically put there moments earlier) and parted his hair in the middle. Just that simple thing made a lot of difference, and he felt the smile returning.

Lauren observed him.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“I, um, I’m not sure.”

“Don’t you think you look nice?”

“Well, yes, I kinda think I do.”

“Good, because I do too. You look very natural, and that’s such a great dress.”

“It is nice, isn’t it? I think Marcie’s going to get an excellent grade on this.”

To Lauren that also seemed like something an average guy wouldn’t have said, at least not while wearing the dress. And she also wasn’t used to Devon offering opinions.

He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the girl in the mirror.

“I think some dark pantyhose would totally complete the look. What do you say?”

“Uhhh, well, why not?”

While they were in the hallway Cindy had arrived, and when they came back out Devon halted and was kind of shocked back into reality. He turned very red.

“I thought you said it was just going to be us three,” he whispered to Lauren.

“Sorry, I didn’t know she was coming over,” she lied.

When Cindy caught sight of him, she enthusiastically said, “Wow, you look great! And Marcie, that dress is an amazing design!” It was as if he was just another girl she knew. Accepting, pleasant. She seemed sincere. He relaxed.

“We were just going to see how it looks with some pantyhose,” said Lauren.

“Hold on,” said Marcie, “I have a coffee-colored pair he can wear,” and she went to her bedroom to get the package the other two girls had bought the night before.

Lauren led Devon to a chair and had him carefully sit down. She explained to him how to put on the pantyhose. Marcie soon returned with them and handed them over. He just looked at them stupidly. Lauren took them from his hands and started bunching one leg up.

“See? Just bunch it up like this and slowly draw it up your leg,” she said gently.

He did so, enjoying the sensation. Then he bunched up the other leg and pulled them fully on. Lauren had him stand up again.

“Oh yeah! That’s much better.”

“Definitely,” said Cindy.

“Let’s go to the mirror again.” And she led him back, unresisting.

He had to admit that the hose really made the whole picture better.

Lauren noticed he still mostly kept away from looking at his face.

“Devon, would you be interested in trying some makeup?” she asked very quietly.

“Makeup…” he repeated slowly. Would he? Well, he was already wearing all the rest of it, might as well go whole hog?

“Why not?” he agreed.

Lauren brought him back out. “Cindy, do you have your makeup kit with you?”

This was also preplanned, so she was fully ready.

“Sure. Have a seat here, Devon.”

Marcie interrupted at this point.

“Hey, do you mind if I do the hemming and alterations on that dress while you work? I have another dress you can wear in the meantime.”

“Sure,” said Cindy.

He was very reluctant to take it off, but, after all, there were pins in it. They went into Marcie’s bedroom and she unzipped it and carefully pulled it off of him.

“The one I have in mind needs a slip, so here, put this on,” she said, handing him a full slip. It slid down his body with a delicious feeling and she then showed him the second dress, which was long-sleeved, and the hem was just a bit longer. The two helped him on with it and zipped him up. Again he loved that feeling, and smiled. This dress felt good too.

Lauren led him back to the living room, and they sat down by Cindy, who said, “You look so nice in that!”

Cindy spent about twenty minutes on his face, blending here and there, working on the eyes, and the end result was very satisfying for the girls.

“Ready to see yourself again?” asked Lauren.

He nodded, and the two of them went back to the mirror.

The difference was unbelievable, he thought. The girl in the mirror looked very attractive. He looked at her, and then at Lauren, and back again. Lauren had a questioning look.

“I—I love it,” he said softly.

“I’m glad,” she said, “because you do look fantastic.”

He smiled at her. Once back in the living room Cindy and Lauren started chatting, trying, as usual, to include him, and this time he actually did try and join in the conversation. He felt different in some way… freer to express himself. And for a guy used to not having any friends, this was just so different. They were nice to him and seemed to accept him, as if a boy in a dress and makeup was nothing unusual.

In what seemed like no time at all Marcie had finished her alterations and he changed back into the original dress. With the hem finished and the little tuck done it looked good, and the girls all admired it. For some reason Devon struck a pose. They all laughed, and Marcie said, “You go, girl!” To his surprise that made him smile.

He thought back to when he spent so much time thinking about the differences between boys and girls, and about how he never had any friends because of something people sensed about him. He wondered now if it was that he was somehow… girly?, without realizing it, and that put people off? He didn’t actually want to think that, but right now he was feeling totally comfortable, looking and acting like a girl. What did this all mean?

The girls noticed that he had suddenly lost the smile, and was looking very pensive.

“What’s going on, Devon? Are you okay?” asked Cindy.

He looked at her, kind of bewildered, and his eyes welled with tears.

Cindy and Lauren came over to him and hugged him, then Marcie joined in. They sat him down on the couch, with Cindy and Lauren on either side with their arms around him.

“What’s wrong, Devon?” asked Lauren.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I’m finding out something about myself that I didn’t know. It’s kind of a shock.”

“Can you tell us what it is?” asked Cindy, ever the Psych student.

He gathered his thoughts. “I don’t understand it but I feel totally comfortable made up and dressed up like this,” he said. “I thought I was a normal boy, but right now I feel like, like a—a normal girl. When I was growing up I never had any friends. People just seemed to find something odd about me. Did they think I was gay or something? Now I wonder if this is what it was. Like, did they sense a girl, but I looked like a boy? I don’t know what to make of it.”

None of them had ever heard such a long speech from him.

“Devon,” said Cindy, very gently, “I think these thoughts and feelings are worth looking into more deeply, and it would be worthwhile for you to see a counselor at the university. For what it’s worth, I think you almost seem like a different personality.”

He looked at her. “I think I feel like a different person. But I don’t know how that can happen from just putting on some clothes.”

“I think it’s a little bit more than just the clothes, Devon. Right now you are coming across like an attractive young woman. If it was only clothes, I don’t think that would be the case. Everything about you right now says you’re female, your emotions, the way you’re sitting, even the way you’re using your voice…”

“This is what was wrong with me???”

Suddenly a terrible feeling of self-loathing hit him like a slap in the face. What in the world was he doing? Sitting there dressed like a girl, crying, thinking about being a girl. “I need to get out of this stuff!!” he blurted out.

The girls were shocked. This is the same person who said they felt comfortable a minute ago?

“You want to take the dress off?”

“Yes! Everything! I can’t believe I let myself be talked into this! What’s wrong with me? I’m a guy! Guys don’t dress up like girls!”

While the others sat there with their jaws hanging open, Cindy, who knew this change of heart was within the realm of possibility, calmly said, “It’s okay, Devon. Turn around and I’ll unzip you.”

He felt like he couldn’t get out of the dress fast enough.

“Hey! Careful with that, please. I can’t get a grade on it if it’s ripped,” pleaded Marcie.

“Sorry, but I need it all off right now.” She and Lauren helped get the dress off him, and Lauren loosened the cincher.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked, almost in a panic.

“They’re right here. Please calm down.”

He was so freaked out that he changed right in front of them. Once he had his clothes back on, Cindy handed him some cold cream and he quickly and messily wiped his face off. Then he almost ran for the door and was out of it in a second.

As the metaphorical dust was settling, Lauren asked, “What the hell just happened?”

“It’s a reaction you can get sometimes,” said Cindy, rather sadly. “With some guys they build up a wardrobe of clothes, and then suddenly something will trigger a kind of self-hate, or guilt, and they purge it all. After they calm down they might build up another wardrobe. It’s a sad commentary on how screwed up our society’s view of gender and sexual roles can be. They think, ‘I shouldn’t be doing this! It’s wrong!’ and that sets the cycle in motion. Poor Devon. I thought things were going pretty well.”

“He really liked what he was seeing and how he felt. I just can’t understand how that could change so fast.”

“It seemed to have to do with what he thought was wrong with him growing up. There must be a lot of buried feelings in there. I have to warn you, Lauren, that he might try and avoid you now. He might want to avoid everything associated with what we did today.”

“Great! Now I don’t know whether to be sorry we did this or glad he discovered something.”

“We can only hope that ultimately it will help him somehow.”

-o0o-

When Devon ran out of Marcie’s apartment he had no idea where he was going, other than getting away from the situation. His heart was beating fast and he felt some panic. How could he go from feeling so good to feeling so awful in two seconds? The dress felt…great on him, and he loved the look Cindy had created with the makeup. But guys didn’t do things like that!! There had to be something wrong with him to enjoy that.

Maybe her idea about seeing an on-campus counselor was a good idea. Maybe the counselor could get this ridiculous idea out of his head.

-o0o-

When he did go to see the counselor, he first got her assurance that everything said there was confidential. He sat in her office and poured out his story, which got him agitated again.

The counselor, Jamie Scott, assured him that there was nothing sick or wrong in what he had done. “They were just clothes, Devon. You liked how they felt, and there is nothing at all wrong with that. In this culture we are taught that it’s wrong, against nature, etc., but that’s not the real truth. The bigots and religious zealots who say it’s wrong are just fearful people. You’d be surprised how some of the loudest voices of conservatism are some of the worst offenders—I don’t mean just in gender terms, but more often than you’d think, they’re breaking the law in some way, or treating other people abominably, none of which is an instruction in the religious books they hold so dear. Even non-zealots can be extremely judgmental about these things.”

He had calmed down a bit during that speech.

“Do you know why you think it’s wrong for you to do?”

“Well, no, not exactly. It just suddenly felt like I had this overwhelming feeling I was doing something incredibly terrible—something I shouldn’t be doing.”

“It would be useful if you could pin down the original voice that generated those feelings. Did you ever dress up as a young child?”

He opened his mouth to say no, but suddenly a hidden memory bobbed up. He was probably about five, and they were at his aunt Peggy’s house. He was playing with her daughter Cassie, and she somehow got him to wear a dress, and he liked it. When they were discovered, innocently playing and having a lot of fun, the adults started yelling angrily. He was jerked to his feet and the dress was forcibly removed. Then he was spanked—hard.

Jamie could tell something had happened from Devon’s expression, that he was reliving some old memory.

“My god, did that actually happen?”

“Do you want to tell me what you were remembering, Devon?”

He related the vignette to her.

“Devon, trauma like this at such an early age has a way of affecting us for years. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if that was what motivated you to get out of those clothes at your friend’s house. It sounds like you were just on the verge of discovering something about your gender identity when this angry voice intruded and told you what you were doing was wrong.”

“Are you sure it isn’t wrong?”

“I’m sure. Of course going down this path could bring challenges of its own, but to me it sounds as if for you, it’s worth exploring.”

“Wow. I came here thinking you would tell me there was something wrong with me and help me fix it. This…this is not at all what I expected.”

“Tell me, Devon, when you were all dressed and made up, and you and the girls were talking, did you join in?”

Thinking back, he could see that yes, he had. “Yeah. That’s kind of unusual for me. But I really felt like a whole different person there, for a while.”

“See Devon, that is healthy. It’s another side of you coming to the fore. If you can integrate the female side with the male side, you will be more of a whole person, holistically speaking.”

“Ms. Scott, you’ve given me a lot to think about. I think I have about as much in my head as I can take right now.”

She smiled. “Don’t work too hard on this. Let it kind of settle in your mind and think about it tomorrow or the next day.”

“Okay. Thank you very much,” he said, and left.

-o0o-

He tried to follow Jamie Scott’s advice, but as he went about his day his thoughts kept returning to being dressed up and how good it felt, how happy he was, at least for a moment. In French class he didn’t sit next to Lauren, not because he didn’t like her anymore, but because he just needed time to consider everything he and Jamie had talked about, and he needed to do it at his own pace.

She headed for him after class, looking sad, but he stopped her.

“Lauren, whatever you’re going to say, please just remember it. I am still processing all this and when I’m done thinking about it we can talk, okay?”

She looked at him thankfully and nodded yes. She was happy he hadn’t decided to sever their whole relationship. She told Cindy what had happened, and she thought that sounded pretty good.

“He does need time to think about all of this. It’s a big deal when a boy finds out he feels more comfortable as a girl.”

“I can’t even imagine what it would be like to feel more comfortable as the opposite sex. It just doesn’t compute for me.”

“As hard as it is, Lauren, try to imagine what Devon’s going through. He’s actually faced with it. He knows what it feels like but thinks it’s very wrong. I hope he went to see a counselor.”

-o0o-

Devon went for a long walk with the express purpose of trying to figure this out. It was hard to know where to begin to figure out what all this meant. Let’s see…in chronological order then, he had worn as dress as a little kid and apparently liked it, but then was punished, and he didn’t even know why. But maybe the fact of the punishment is what triggered his interest in girls’ clothes to start with? Then he was given the opportunity to wear a dress again, and had enjoyed himself, he had to admit. It made him feel like a different, better person. Then those stupid, ancient, angry voices made him feel guilty and terrible for doing it. Those voices needed to go! Thinking about it rationally, there was actually nothing wrong with putting those clothes on. Maybe it was like… putting on a costume and getting into a role.

Somewhere in there he knew that the angry voices were very likely his parents, and that the odds were they’d still disapprove of that kind of behavior. Well…he was of legal age and could do what he wanted. However, since they were paying for his education he wouldn’t mention this. If he were to do it again, he’d keep it to himself, at least until he was through being dependent on them.

And did he want to do it again? It was certainly very tempting. It made him feel…happy, and now that he thought about it, that wasn’t something he was used to feeling. ‘Man, I am such a mess!’ he said to himself. ‘Do I need to see Jamie Scott again?’

He was surprised to find he’d completely circled the campus, which was pretty spread out.

-o0o-

A week later Lauren and Cindy were walking to the dining hall and ran into Devon. He greeted them with a smile.

“Are you okay, Devon?” asked Lauren.

“Yes, thank you. I’ve been working on trying to understand all this, and I’ve been to see a counselor a few times. I’m sorry I ran out on you guys.”

She put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. We knew something was going on with you. You seemed so happy, and then suddenly you seemed to freak out.”

“Yeah, that was some old, dead voices telling me what I was doing was wrong and was from something that happened when I was a little kid. But I’m finding out how to ignore them. I really did enjoy dressing up. That was a wonderful experience.”

“You actually seem a lot happier now, Devon.”

“I’m learning ‘to integrate the female and male parts of my personality,’ to quote my counselor.”

“And you’re talking more too!”

“Well, uh, maybe that’s the female side of me.”

They laughed at him. “SURE it is, Devon!”

He actually laughed along with them. Then he got serious.

“Listen, if, by some chance, I wanted to dress up again, how do you think I would go about it?”

Both girls were a little surprised; they somehow hadn’t expected this.

“Well, um, we know your sizes, so we could probably find something for you at the thrift shop. How’s that?”

“It sounds good. I’m kind of curious if those dead voices are going to try and ruin it for me again, or whether now that I know they’re there and what they are, they’ll shut up. However, I don’t think my dorm room is a good place for me to dress up.”

“That sounds like a very good experiment, Devon,” said Cindy. “And yeah, the dorm doesn’t seem good for this. We can ask Marcie if she’d mind if you do it at her place. I really don’t think she would have a problem.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. How much money do you think you’ll need?”

-o0o-

Lauren and Cindy did go shopping for him at the thrift shop and had fun trying to figure out what might look good on him. There were some fun old fashions there, and they got him two dresses. They had neglected to ask his shoe size, but that could wait for another time, assuming there would be one. All the rest of what they had bought was still at Marcie’s place.

-o0o-

At Marcie’s that weekend they fitted him out again in all the padding that went into giving him a figure like Marcie’s, and they helped him into the new dress. He shivered with pleasure as it was zipped up.

Cindy again did his makeup, and it made him happy to see how he looked. Then the four of them just sat and talked. Half his mind was waiting and waiting to see if he would feel that awful, wrong feeling again, but after thirty minutes, nothing had happened. He was joining in on the conversation, even if they were subjects he knew little about, just asking questions and being a part of the talk. At forty minutes he was still just fine.

“Cindy, do you think that just realizing what happened to me when I was a kid stopped that terrible feeling from happening?”

“It’s possible. Before it was hidden but affecting you. Now that you know it’s there it has lost some of its power.”

“Good!”

The other three marveled at how different this person seemed from the Devon they had met before. She (?) was more outgoing, joining in the talk where Devon would have either said nothing or would have to be addressed directly. She smiled much more than Devon too. Although she didn’t look one hundred percent female, she easily came across as a young woman.

After two hours they all considered this experiment a success. Devon slowly and carefully got out of the clothes and underthings. He knew this wasn’t the last time he’d wear female clothing.

-o0o-

The next day he ran into Cindy at the student union and told her he’d like to talk to her.

“Sure, Devon. Is now good?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Looking around he steered them towards an empty table.

“I wanted to ask if you would be willing to give me lessons in makeup. You seem like you’re excellent at it.”

“Um, well, sure, and thank you. I’d be happy to show you what I know.”

She made out a short list of what she thought he’d need for basics.

“Uh, Cindy, if I gave you the money, would you please go buy these for me? I’d feel too self-conscious to do it. And I’m definitely not going outside when I’m dressed up!”

“I could do that for you, Devon. But don’t be too sure you won’t be going outside! You just never know!”

He gave her a funny look.

-o0o-

The lessons with Cindy proceeded for a couple of weeks, until he had the basics down, and was satisfied with the look he could create.

He didn’t have a whole lot of money, but he started buying clothes himself online, mostly thrift shop things. The girls were very helpful, and when they were together and he was dressed, they coached him in feminine behavior. Eventually he felt brave enough to go out with Lauren and her friends. By the time he graduated he was more confident as both Devon and as Diane, his chosen femme name.

With him becoming more content, his personality blossomed a bit, and Lauren found him more attractive. The two became an item through the rest of their college years. They had yet to make plans for staying together post-graduation, but both were hoping they would.

-o0o-

After graduation Devon moved back to his hometown and was able to land a technology-based job right away. He moved into his own place, where he could dress when he liked.

One day he went over to his folks’ house to visit his mother and decided to bring up his memory of the past.

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s golfing. Did you want something from him?”

“No, no, just curious. Listen mom, there’s something I want to ask you about. When I was about five years old, I have this memory of being at Aunt Peggy’s house. Cassie and I were playing, and some way or other she got me to wear a dress.”

“Oh yes, Devon, we certainly heard about that from Aunt Peggy and Uncle Bill! They seemed kind of shaken up by it.”

Devon was confused at this. He was so sure his parents were there.

“But…um, well, what I remember is that some adults came into the room where we were playing and started yelling and screaming. Someone yanked me up by the arm and practically tore that dress off me. Then they spanked me so hard I couldn’t sit down. I just always thought…that wasn’t you and Dad??”

“Devon, we weren’t even in town. We had dropped you off there while we went somewhere—now I don’t recall where. When we got back Bill was ranting about what had happened, but it didn’t seem like a big deal to us. Bill has always been kind of homophobic. There are a lot of little boys who experiment with girls’ clothes, or their sisters end up getting them into a dress; it’s nothing unusual. I don’t think we knew you had been hit like that.”

This was somewhat of a shock. He had been blaming his parents for causing the trauma back then, but they were innocent, and didn’t even think there was anything wrong with it! Did this mean he could tell them he now dressed up on his own? Or would it just be safer to keep the secret? His mom seemed very comfortable with the idea… oh, what the heck.

“I hadn’t remembered about it at all until a couple of years ago.” He looked at his mother carefully, then continued. “At college, a few friends dressed me up, and I was feeling really good. I loved the way I looked, and I felt…different, better. Then all of a sudden I felt like I was doing something very wrong, awful, and I couldn’t get out of the clothes fast enough.”

She looked at him sympathetically.

“I felt so weird about it all that I went to see a counselor, and that’s when the memory resurfaced. She told me something like that can cause trauma for years!”

“I’m sorry, Devon. For what it’s worth we never left you alone over there again. So you discovered you like to dress up? Are you still doing it?”

“Uh, well yes I am. And the whole process of doing it has helped me to become a more whole person.”

She smiled. “You have seemed happier for the last couple years. You speak up more too.”

“I’m still working on integrating the female and male sides of my personality. That was something the counselor helped me with.”

“Are you…transgender?”

“Mom, I’m trying not to put any labels on how I feel or who I am. I’m just a guy who is trying to become whole. If you’re asking if gender reassignment surgery is in my future, I think I can say with a lot of certainty that no, it isn’t.”

“Well, it sounds like a worthwhile journey you’re on. I hope it doesn’t cause you any trouble or heartache.” She took his hand and looked him in the eye. “And honey? Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about this.”

He smiled. “Thanks mom.”

-o0o-

Two months later Devon’s phone vibrated. There was a text from Marcie.

“Moving to your town!”

This was welcome news. Marcie had always treated him nicely, and he had always enjoyed her company.

There was a small college in Devon’s town, and she had landed a job as a teacher in their fashion and design school.

He texted her back that it was great news and he’d like to see her. They made arrangements to meet. She came into town and he went with her to look at apartments. He steered her to a part of town he thought she might like. It wasn’t that far from where he lived, and had some eclectic-type shops he thought she might enjoy. The second place they looked at she thought would suit her perfectly, and she put a deposit down. They found they were getting along very well, and maybe there was something more…

When they stopped for lunch at a diner, Marcie had some news.

“Did you know that Lauren has been seeing some guy? And that it’s kind of serious?”

“Well, no, I didn’t,” he said. “Haven’t heard from her lately.”

“Oh, sorry. She thinks it’s the Real Thing,” she said, then realizing how that might have come across to Devon. “That’s not to say that what you had with her wasn’t,” she quickly added, reaching across to put a hand on his.

“Oh, it’s fine. We enjoyed our time together, but it was never clear how it was going to work with us in separate cities.” He was just a little hurt, but he was happy for Lauren.

“I’m glad there’s someone I know in this town, Devon. It really is nice to see you again.”

That put a smile on his face.

“You too, Marcie.”

-o0o-

Marcie made the move and got settled into her new job. Devon came over many times to help her get things situated in the new apartment. They were both feeling the beginnings of an attraction to each other. This became more apparent to both when she hugged him before he left her one day. The hug somehow lasted longer than just a friendly hug.

“Hey, um, Devon?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen…Diane lately?”

His eyebrows rose. “Actually, no; it’s been several weeks.”

“I’d… really like to see her again,” said Marcie.

The sentence floated to the floor like a feather and lay there, undisturbed, while Devon, still hugging her, thought how this might work. Although he had gone out with the girls while at college, stepping outside dressed up in his hometown was a whole different proposition.

Finally he said, “Well, maybe you could come over to my place. She’s usually there…when she’s around, that is.”

“I’d like that.”

“Maybe we could, I don’t know, have a meal in?”

“Sure,” she smiled. “Sounds good!” She had never told Devon that she had a thing for Diane. He had seemed more interested in Lauren at the time, so she set her feelings aside. But now that Lauren was otherwise engaged, Devon was free to pursue other romantic attachments.

-o0o-

Devon invited Marcie over for a Friday evening dinner. He didn’t know how to cook many dishes, but he could certainly whip up some sort of pasta dish. He also made a tossed salad and bought a loaf of fresh Italian bread but didn’t know what else to serve. Marcie was his very first dinner guest. He got a few things ready and then transformed himself into Diane. He was finding himself excited about having Marcie over. That hug had really been nice!

Diane came into the kitchen and put an apron on over her dress. She checked on the food and set the table.

Right on time the doorbell rang and Diane went to get it. She had to look up into Marcie’s eyes. Marcie knew Diane preferred flats to heels, and she wanted to feel a bit dominant tonight, so she wore three-inch heels. She also had on a very nice dress of her own design. She leaned over and kissed Diane’s cheek. Diane felt herself blushing as she kissed Marcie back and felt a sort of thrill from the contact.

“Please come in. I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks, Diane. Wouldn’t have missed it! You look terrific.” It had been quite a while since Marcie had seen Diane, and she looked just as good as Marcie remembered. Maybe better.

“Thanks, but you look so much better than I do.”

Marcie took off her coat, and Diane hung it up. She handed Diane a bottle of Zinfandel, then put her arm around Diane’s shoulders and squeezed as they walked to the kitchen. Diane was thinking Marcie really seemed to like her, like more than she remembered.

“Something smells yummy!”

“Thanks. It’s just pasta and salad. It’s about all I know how to make.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

When the meal was ready, Diane brought it to the table. While she was getting it Marcie had adjusted the lighting to be much dimmer, and more romantic. She really wanted to make an impression on Diane.

It was a romantic dinner, and Diane felt excitement about being in Marcie’s company. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but Marcie made sure she had at least two glassfuls of the wine, so she felt very relaxed. They spent a lot of time just looking at each other. Diane told her how she had been mistaken about who had yelled at her and spanked her when she was five, and how her mother was okay with her dressing.

“I’m happy things worked out for you, Diane. That must have been a weight off your mind to find out your folks were innocent.”

“It really was, thanks. Maybe it also explains why I never much liked Uncle Bill!”

With the meal over she stood up to clear the table, but Marcie stopped her.

“Why don’t you leave those for later? Let’s go sit on the couch.”

That sounded like a good idea. They sat down next to each other and Marcie put her arm around Diane and nuzzled her neck and behind her ear. She didn’t know exactly how much of the lead she could take with Diane, but she was hoping to find out. Marcie had read books about birth order, and figured it was probably going to be helpful that Diane had an older sister while Marcie had a younger brother.

“I’ve always liked you, Diane, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

Diane smiled dreamily at her.

“I seriously had no idea, Marcie, but I always liked you too.”

Now it was Marcie’s turn to smile. She pulled Diane’s chin over and kissed her. Diane relaxed further and gave herself to the kiss. She had enjoyed kissing Lauren, but this seemed like something altogether different, a different and higher level of intimacy. Though she was relaxed thanks to the wine, she also felt as if her senses were heightened. She turned towards Marcie and put her arms around Marcie’s neck as the kiss lasted longer and longer.

They continued to kiss and cuddle for an hour, until Diane said, “Marcie, I am really loving this, but I feel like I’m going to fall asleep in your arms.”

“I like that idea a lot, Diane. Would you like me to spend the night here?”

Diane smiled. “Yes I would, very much.”

“Then let me get my bag out of my car. You can put the dishes in the sink and let them soak so you don’t need to use a jackhammer on them tomorrow, but don’t wash them. Just go get ready for bed.”

“Um, okay,” Diane said, getting up.

Marcie let herself out, leaving the door unlocked, and was back quickly with her overnight bag, brought along because she had hoped for this turn of events.

Diane was in the bedroom, just sitting on the bed. She was a little more alert from moving around, but still felt like falling asleep. Marcie got on the bed behind her and unzipped her dress.

“Go wash yourself, hon,” said Marcie, patting her on the shoulders.

Marcie got herself undressed and walked into the bathroom as Diane was finishing up with her teeth. She held Diane’s waist, leaning against her as she brushed, and they smiled at each other through the mirror.

Once all the ablutions were finished they got into bed together and Diane’s head was on Marcie’s shoulder, her nose buried in Marcie’s neck. She wasn’t dressed anymore, but she still felt like Diane. She would have thought more about that but she was comfortable being cradled by Marcie. She was enjoying Marcie’s personal smell and it wasn’t long before she was out like a light.

“Wow,” whispered Marcie, “you really have a low tolerance for alcohol.”

She looked at Diane sleeping peacefully next to her and smiled. This was where she wanted to be, in bed with this lovely person. She had enjoyed seeing the awakening of Diane, and in fact back when Lauren had suggested Devon as the dress model, she couldn’t wait to see it happen. Over the next year, as Devon became more comfortable with the two sides of his personality, and stopped being the painfully shy boy she was first introduced to, she found him an extremely pleasant and helpful person. She liked it a lot when he would come over to her place to change to Diane.

-o0o-

Devon awoke with Marcie cuddled behind him, with her arm on his tummy. Just the thought of that made him very happy. He put his arm over hers and smiled to himself. As he waited for her to wake up, he realized he still felt like Diane, and pondered that for a while. Why did he feel like that when he didn’t even have any of Diane’s clothes on? Obviously it wasn’t all about the clothes. Marcie had treated him tenderly and had taken the lead. He had quite naturally fallen into the passive role, and realized he was enjoying it. He felt like turning around and hugging Marcie, but he didn’t want to wake her. Then he felt her kissing his neck, so he smiled and flipped over.

They enjoyed each other’s bodies and closeness for a while, as they kissed. Then Marcie turned him on his back and lay on top of him. “You’re my girl now, Diane, and I’m going to want to see you a lot more often.”

Diane smiled at her and felt the pieces of her life fall into place.

The End.

Thank you, Dee Sylvan, for services rendered!

Telling one’s parents about the big change in lifestyle. Will it go well?

Evan O’Neal stood in front of his parents wearing his dress and heels. They were still as wide-eyed as they were when he first arrived and the door opened. He was padded, coiffed and made up very well.

“Yes, Miss? Can I help you?” his mother had said to the nicely dressed woman at the door.

“It’s me, Evan.”

That’s when her jaw dropped.

“No! No, that’s impossible!” She exclaimed loudly, looking stricken. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Actually I haven’t done anything at all to myself,” he said, a bit nervously.

“But, then…” she sputtered, “why are you dressed like that?”

Politely he asked, “Do you mind if I come in?” not really wanting to have the conversation where anyone passing by could hear.

She stood aside, staring at him as he walked elegantly past, into the living room. His father was sitting on the couch reading the paper, and glanced up.

“Who’s this?” he asked his wife, who had trailed Evan in, and sat down next to him.

“It’s our son,” she said, in a tone that implied nothing positive.

He looked Evan up and down and an expression of distaste spread across his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re up to, boy?”

Ignoring the unpleasant tone, Evan took a breath. “What I think I’m up to is introducing you to the new me. This is how I’m going to look now.”

“Are you nuts? You’re not a woman.”

“I was aware of that, Dad. But I enjoy looking like one; it makes me feel good.”

Both parents were frowning and shaking their heads.

“Evan, I don’t even know where to start. This is wrong on so many levels.” He glanced at Evan’s mother and read her displeasure. “Your mother and I deeply disapprove of this.”

She nodded agreement.

Evan stared at them for a moment. “So… that’s it? You just take one look at me, express disapproval and you’re done?”

“What else do you expect? This is unnatural, perverted. What will people say?”

“Dad, Mom, I’m not doing this for other people; I’m doing it for myself. There’s nothing perverted about it! I like looking and acting like a woman. And what I expected was for my parents to love me no matter what!”

“It’s WRONG!” his father barked. “There’s something wrong with YOU!”

Involuntarily a tear welled up in each of Evan’s eyes. He looked sadly at his parents as the tears made their way down his cheeks, turned around and slowly left the house. Growing up it had always felt much worse when his father yelled at his children than if he had just gone ahead and hit them.

-o0o-

Deciding to present as a woman was not a decision made lightly. He’d agonized about it for a couple years. When he would dress up he’d always feel so much better, and happier, and when he started going out dressed his interactions always seemed far more positive than as his male self. He’d gone full time only a few weeks ago, when he started his new job.

On the way to his parents’ house Evan knew there were just two ways this could go. He knew the negative reaction was the more likely of the two, but he very much wanted his parents to understand his feelings, and he was tired of hiding this part of himself from them. And, as they were Liberal-minded, he was under the impression that they were also at least somewhat open-minded. It wasn’t that he craved his parents’ approval, but it sure would have been nice. Announcing this over the phone seemed like a terrible idea, so showing them in person seemed like the best way, even though he realized it would be a shock. So now he knew exactly how they felt. He had been rejected, and for what? Because of how other people might take this? There was no understanding talk or even concern from them—something like, “Are you sure you want to do this? Won’t people make trouble for you?” Nothing like that. Just outright rejection.

-o0o-

Back at the O’Neal house Jack and Naomi hadn’t moved from the couch. They were still somewhat stunned. As much as Naomi did disapprove of this turn in her son’s life, she still felt a little bad when she saw the tears spill down his cheeks. He had always been a sensitive boy.

“What the hell is wrong with him? Why would he want to do that?” Jack finally asked, still a bit irritated, but also very confused.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I really have no idea. I thought he was happy enough as a boy.”

“Well now that he knows how we feel maybe he’ll come to his senses,” Jack said, with some finality, and went back to reading the paper.

Naomi was a bit stunned that he could put the episode aside so quickly. Shouldn’t they discuss this further? Find out where they had gone wrong with Evan? Think about what to do to help him get this ridiculous idea out of his head? But she knew Jack compartmentalized everything, and this was off his so-called table for the time being.

-o0o-

Evan didn’t contact his parents after that. It was too bad they couldn’t accept his choice for himself. Really, until that day he had thought they loved him unconditionally, but this was a rude awakening. When he saw his parents’ names on his Caller ID he let those go to voicemail and didn’t listen to them. They didn’t realize how much they had hurt him.

On the bright side, presenting himself this way was going very well. Everyone at his new job treated him like any other woman there, and even seemed to like him. He was going by the name Faith, because she had faith she could live this life successfully. Other than the problem with her parents, she felt happier than she had in years. What she would ultimately do about them she didn’t know. She didn’t actually want to be estranged from them.

-o0o-

One evening about a week after the confrontation at the O’Neal house, Faith’s phone rang, and it was her younger sister, Grace. She was in her last year of college and they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. Growing up they didn’t have much to do with each other.

“Hey, Grace.”

“Evan, the folks told me a very odd story about you.”

This didn’t seem like a promising beginning for a pleasant conversation.

“Oh? What’d they say?”

“Um, that you showed up at the house in a dress?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Uh, that’s just not right. Why would you do that?”

“Because I like dresses and am now presenting as a woman.” Maybe Grace could still be reached…

“I dunno. It sounds kind of creepy.”

“Creepy? Why? Is it creepy when you wear pants?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” she snapped.

Faith didn’t really expect Grace’s support, but not her disapproval either. Changing her attitude to one of confrontation, she asked, “So, Grace, were you commissioned to call me and tell me what an insane, perverted person I am?” She felt her anger rising.

“No, they didn’t ask me. I decided to find out for myself if what they were talking about could possibly be true.”

“Well, it is. I am presenting as a woman now, and I had hoped they and you would give me some kind of understanding. Instead they instantly rejected me, as if I were a leper or a criminal.”

“We—um, I am not instantly rejecting you, but I wish you’d reconsider.”

“Reconsider?? You mean… so that you could be more comfortable, and not have to worry about people knowing about your sicko brother? What about me? What about my comfort with looking like who I want to be? Does anyone care about THAT!?”

Grace was taken aback at the anger and pain in his voice. He was practically shouting.

“Do you think I’m doing this for kicks? Or to be kinky or something? I’m doing it because I’m happier this way and have finally started to enjoy my life. And if you and your parents can’t give me the freedom to do what I need to do to be happy, then I don’t need any of you!” And she ended the call. She was surprised to find herself crying, realizing that now she was estranged from her whole family. It really hurt.

-o0o-

Grace was stunned at the vehemence Evan gave to that last part. As she sat there thinking she realized he was right—none of them had probably given his happiness or feelings one shred of consideration. She also hadn’t realized how unhappy he must have been before he started this. They had never had much in common growing up, in spite of only being two years apart. She started to feel very sad about the situation. She didn’t want to lose her brother—or sister, as the case may be. She decided not to call back right away to apologize because he was probably still upset.

An hour later, hoping he had calmed down, she did call back, and it went right to voicemail. “Evan? Listen, I’m really sorry. You were right. I doubt any of us considered your feelings, which is just not acceptable. Please call me back.”

But when Faith saw who the message was from she deleted it without listening. She didn’t want to get upset again, and was tired of being hurt by the people she once thought loved her.

A couple days went by, and Grace left two more messages, but was starting to think they were being ignored. How could she get through to Evan? She called her mother and recounted to her the conversation she had had with him, and how none of them seemed to care about his happiness. Her mother was unhappy he was ignoring them, but wasn’t convinced that what Grace had told her was a valid reason for them to approve what he was doing.

“What, are you saying that you think he needs to ‘man up?’” Grace asked.

“Well, yes, basically. We all have to do things we don’t necessarily want to do. Why should he be any different?”

“I don’t know, mom. I think there should be a difference between doing some…task, or something we don’t necessarily want to do, and how we present ourselves to the world. It seems there is a difference of scale here. Besides, I had no idea he was so unhappy before.”

“Well, I admit I didn’t know that either.”

“But none of us asked about that. We just told him he shouldn’t do what he’s doing, without much discussion, or any consideration about his motivations and feelings. It’s hard to blame him for ignoring us.”

Naomi had to agree with that, and was sorry she hadn’t reached out while Evan was still there at the house.

-o0o-

Faith decided to branch out in her activities a bit, and through a work friend she learned about and joined a spiritual path she liked the sound of. There was a very big emphasis on love, especially a detached sort of love for all life forms, recognizing that God is the animating spark in everyone. Then, warm love for those near and dear to you. Striving not to indulge in anger was a big one, and harder to do, but it really was a choice to get mad or not. To know that everything was in its rightful place and time, no matter what it seemed to look like. Practicing all this was a big help in losing her outrage and sorrow at the rejection from her parents and sister. It took a while but right from the beginning the whole thing just clicked with her, and she worked hard at developing the correct attitude. It had to be practiced every day; there was no coasting. This made her a more serene person, and the people she interacted with started to be drawn to her. Some said there was a very peaceful aura about her.

-o0o-

A few months later Grace graduated and came home. The first thing on her mind was go to find her brother or sister and apologize. Faith was still ignoring all messages from her and the parents. When Naomi, who had come around, more or less, to Grace’s way of thinking, suggested she go with her, she thought about it, but asked that she visit alone, first, and see how things went.

The second evening she was home she drove to Evan’s last-known address and looked at the names on the apartment mailboxes. There was only one O’Neal, but the first initial was an F. Was this Evan? Well, she could always apologize if it was the wrong person. She pressed the buzzer.

“Yes, who is it?”

She didn’t recognize the voice, but replied, “It’s Grace.”

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to come up and see you.”

There was a pregnant pause, with Grace imagining the worst, and then, after what seemed like too long the loud buzz of the door unlocking. Grace pulled it open and went to the second floor, found the door and knocked. The woman who opened the door—and it really did appear to be a woman—totally surprised her. She wasn’t beautiful by any means, but there was a sort of aura of happiness about her that made her very attractive. She looked nothing like Evan. Grace’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Wow! You look… fabulous! But, um, what’s your name? I saw the ‘F’ on the mailbox.”

“It’s Faith. Please come in,” she said. Indicating a chair, she said, “have a seat.” She was pleased Grace had asked her name instead of calling her Evan.

Once they were seated, no one said anything, with Grace just marveling at this woman, who seemed so settled and content and feminine, so very unlike her brother. He’d always seemed nervous and not that happy.

Faith regarded her sister and asked, “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I wanted to see you and apologize. You were totally right about us not thinking of your happiness or motivations. And I also wanted to meet my sister. I can see this suits you.”

Faith looked down for a moment, then said, “Thanks.”

“So, have you had, like, surgery?”

“No, I was never unhappy with my male equipment, more with my appearance and how I was perceived.”

“Okay. I don’t exactly understand, but I don’t really need to. I just want you to know I accept you.”

Faith nodded. She wondered if there was a “but” coming.

“I spoke to mom about you after you and I talked, and she feels the same way I do. Dad is finding it a lot harder to understand.”

Faith nodded again. “That doesn’t really surprise me. He’s pretty stubborn. It doesn’t matter though, because I don’t need his approval.”

Grace digested that, wondering what it would mean. Instead of asking, she changed the subject.

“So…Faith…can you tell me what led up to this lifestyle change?”

Faith tilted her head, considering what she wanted to say. “To put it simply, I just never felt happy as a boy, and I gravitated towards girls. I wanted to look like them and act like them. So I just started doing it, and I haven’t regretted it.”

“Gee, that is simply put! I guess you decided just changing your, uh, presentation, was the best solution?”

“Yes, I did. I’m much happier this way. You can call me gender fluid if you want.”

“And no one has given you grief about it, out in the world?”

“Except for the parents, no. I’m very fortunate to be able to pass well. I have friends for the first time, people at work like me. Things are going well.”

“I’m glad for you, Faith. I know we didn’t have much to do with each other growing up, but I never hated you or wished you ill.”

“No, nor I you. We just didn’t seem to have much in common.”

“Do you think you’ll ever come to the house again?”

“Well, I haven’t been invited. Oh! That may not be true, since I haven’t listened to any of their messages. If I do go over there Dad’s going to have to learn to call me Faith, her and she, and be civil to me, and I’m just not sure he would be able or willing to do that. If he can’t or won’t, I won’t be mad; I’ll just leave. I try and avoid such negative attitudes.”

Grace leaned forward. “Faith, I’d really like to get to know you. You seem so…content. I hope Dad can control himself. If not we can meet elsewhere, if you’re willing.” She was still a little in awe of how serene her sister appeared. Getting to know her would probably be like getting to know an entirely different person than Evan.

Faith smiled. “That might be nice.”

Her smile made Grace smile too.

-o0o-

When Grace got back home she sat in the kitchen with her mother and filled her in on the visit. “Her name is Faith. She looks so wonderful, mom. And she seems so calm and peaceful. It was good to meet her.”

“Did, um, she tell you why she decided to do this?”

“She just said she was unhappy as a boy, and that since she started this she’s made friends, and people at work like her. You know she and I never had much to do with each other growing up, so I had no idea what her life was like. Whatever it was, it must be much better now.”

Naomi thought about that. Sad to hear he was so unhappy and she hadn’t known it. “Did she, um, have…surgery?” She shuddered inwardly at the thought of her son doing that to himself.

“No, she said she wasn’t unhappy with her anatomy.”

“I’m confused, Grace. I thought men who did this always got their genitals cut off.”

“Well, not her, and I told her I don’t need to understand that part. I just told her I accepted her.”

“You did well, Grace. Will she ever come home again?”

“She told me that if she did, dad would have to treat her right, call her Faith, her and she, that she wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t, because she could walk right out.”

“Oh dear. He’s so stubborn…”

“We’ll work on him together, mom,” Grace smiled. “Faith is really something.”

-o0o-

In the ensuing weeks Grace came to visit again, this time with her mother. Naomi wanted to know why Grace was so taken with her sister. After all, she hadn’t seemed all that special in their one, unhappy meeting. But as soon as they were let in to Faith’s apartment she changed her opinion. She could see what Grace meant about her serenity. And in subsequent visits she did come to appreciate Faith. She could see she was much happier than Evan had ever been, and she truly made a nice woman. She made Naomi proud, and Naomi told her so.

Jack was still the fly in the ointment though. Grace and Naomi did corner him and tell him they wanted Faith to visit, and that they didn’t want him to spoil things for them. He was to be civil, and was to call her Faith, and use female pronouns. It went against his grain, but eventually they wore him down and he did promise to abide by these rules.

Naomi called Faith and told her about Jack’s promise. Faith didn’t much trust her father to suppress his natural reactions, but she agreed to pay a visit.

When she arrived, her sister met her at the door and gave her a hug. She walked in and hugged her mother. The three women exchanged greetings and a bit of small talk. When she turned to her father he just couldn’t help but snark, “I can’t believe you’re still perpetuating this charade, Evan. You’re a real disappointment as a son.”

As Naomi and Grace started to scowl, ready to yell at him, Faith gave him a beautiful smile and said, “I’m sorry if you find my presence offensive. But it’s good to learn just how much your promise is worth. Goodbye. Goodbye Mom, Grace.” She calmly walked out the door.

Naomi and Grace both had their mouths open and were looking daggers at Jack.

“Well! She’s certainly right about your word meaning nothing! You promised to behave! She wasn’t here five minutes before you broke your word.”

Jack was trying not to show it, but he was shaken by Faith’s last statement. He had always prided himself on keeping his word, and here he broke it with his own son—or, daughter, maybe, with hardly a thought. And so fast… He admitted to himself that Evan looked pretty good, all done up that way, even if it was just wrong. He also had to admit he was surprised when Evan didn’t blow up at him, rise to the bait, or argue. He just gave him that sweet smile and walked out.

Meanwhile, Naomi was talking at him.

“So Jack, are you happy now? Does it make you feel proud that not only did you break your word, you showed your own child such a juvenile, unloving and bigoted attitude? And that rather than subject herself to such an attitude she’d rather leave her own family home? I don’t know… this does not sit well with me,” she said, glaring at him. “I would like to have a relationship with her, and for her to feel welcome here in our house.”

Jack’s natural instinct would have been to fight back, but he knew his wife had made excellent points, and that he really didn’t have a leg to stand on. As the seconds ticked by he felt more embarrassed by his unkind words. He said nothing, as Naomi stood there, waiting for some kind of response.

“Grace, please call your sister and find out if she’d be willing to meet you and me somewhere for dinner.”

“Sure, mom.”

After a quick conversation Grace said, “She said yes, and suggested that new place, Horatios, at 6:30.”

“That’s fine. Jack, you had better think long and hard about how important this negative attitude of yours is to you. Is it worth your marriage?”

As Jack still said nothing, Naomi gave him a disappointed look, turned to Grace and said, “Let’s go, honey.” The two of them gathered their things and left the house.

By now Jack actually did want to say he was sorry, but admitting he was wrong had always been very difficult for him. In his mind he was trying to put the whole situation into some kind of perspective that would allow him to condone it. Was it really so terrible if his son wished to be his daughter? Yes, it went against what he was raised with about men and women sticking to the sex they were born as. But this was the twenty first century. Anything goes, and all that jazz. Evan certainly looked good enough to get away with it. Naomi said he was happier. As a good father he should be happy for him—er, her. This was not worth being estranged from his wife and Grace. In this case, in order to apologize he’d probably need a grand gesture, something more than just, say, dramatically showing up at the restaurant to apologize. Was there something Faith needed that he could get her? How could he show he truly regretted what he’d said?

-o0o-

Jack ate his microwaved dinner alone in the kitchen while mulling over the whole situation. Nothing better than a simple, heartfelt apology occurred to him. When he was finished eating he grabbed a book and drove over to Faith’s apartment to wait for her to get home. Along the way he practiced using her name and female pronouns for her. It seemed like it would take a while to get used to doing that. He parked and then sat in his car reading and waiting as it darkened up outside.

After an hour and a half he saw Faith pull up. Due to many cars on the street she had to park about three hundred feet away, and as she walked toward her door a tall, rough-looking lout came toward her, stopping her. Jack couldn’t hear what was said, but he saw the man start to attack her. No matter how she was dressed, that was his kid being harmed. He jumped out of his car, grabbing the hardcover book, ran over and managed to hit the guy in the back of the head with the book, hard enough to knock him out. He crumpled. Faith stood there in shock.

“Faith, are you okay?”

“Oh my god!! Dad??? I, I, I think I’m okay,” she said, hardly noticing that he had called her Faith. “Wha– what are you doing here?”

“I came over to apologize to you. There was no excuse for breaking my word and treating you that way. I am truly sorry for that.” He surprised himself with just how easy that had been to say.

She looked at him searchingly. She didn’t realize that she was starting to cry until she noticed she was shaking. Jack’s natural paternal instincts kicked in and he held her.

Eventually, she pulled herself together and he released her. Then he called the cops to report the assault.

While they waited Jack asked, “Are you going to want to press charges?”

“Well, of course I am.”

“Faith, I’m not trying to be mean, but I want to remind you of your legal identity. Do you want that made part of the public record?”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She loved her life as Faith, but she hadn’t yet gotten her legal identification, and she wasn’t quite ready to have her life broadcast.

By the time the cops arrived the thug was just starting to stir. Faith and her father told the cops what had happened. She told them she didn’t want any publicity, and that she was kind of hoping the guy had priors so she wouldn’t have to press charges. Once they ran his name through the computer they did discover there were multiple complaints against him, as well as an outstanding warrant. They took him away and Faith and Jack slowly walked into her apartment. Having this shared experience made them feel closer to each other.

“I shouldn’t have to refrain from reporting a jerk like that just because of how I’m dressed,” she complained.

“There are evidently some ways this new lifestyle can be more… complicated than it used to be,” Jack said. “At least they have him for that outstanding warrant, and you weren’t really hurt, were you?”

“No, I might have a bruise or two, but thanks to you it wasn’t any worse.”

He smiled. “I’m glad I did come over here to see you. Now could you try and show me that serene young woman I’ve heard so much about?”

Faith was able to work up a smile for that, and she did a bit of deep breathing and could feel some of her new attitude seeping back into her. After she was calm and centered again, Jack brought up a new subject.

“Do you want your mother and sister to know you were attacked?”

She had to think about that. It would very much disturb them, but her father’s heroic actions had really made the difference. She decided to tell them.

“Yes, they should know how you came through for me.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long, honey,” Jack said, bemusedly noting how naturally the endearment now came to him.

She smiled at him. “Dad, would you like something to drink?”

“Um, sure. Coffee?”

“I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing into her kitchen.

Jack looked at her move, with a sense of affectionate detachment. ‘She really is a woman,’ he mused. He now found himself unable to think of her as Evan in any way. She was just so unlike his son. Then another thought occurred to him. ‘I have two daughters…’ and for some reason he wasn’t even aware of, the thought made him smile.

Faith came out with the coffee and handed it to him. Just then her phone rang.

“Hi Mom.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s right here with me at my place. Let me give him the phone.” She handed it over.

“Hello? Yes I am. I came over here to apologize, and it turned out I was in time to prevent an attack on Faith.”

Faith could hear excited sounds from the phone.

“No, she’s not hurt. The guy started to rough her up, but didn’t get a chance to do anything worse before I ran over and knocked him out with a book— Yes, a real book. You couldn’t do that with a Kindle!

“Yes, she has settled down and is feeling better. Okay dear, I’ll see you soon.”

He finished his coffee and got up to leave. Faith stood up, hugged him and kissed his cheek. It felt normal and right to him.

“You sure you’re okay, Faith?

“Yes, thanks, Dad. My nerves have calmed down. Thanks for saving me.”

“Hey, I only have one oldest daughter,” he smiled, and stepped out the door. “And it’s my job as your father to protect you when I can.”

Faith closed the door and smiled to herself. Things were working out well, after all. Both her parents had come around, she had escaped an attack…life was going well, indeed. Tomorrow she would look into what was necessary to get her name changed!

The End

Vicki

We met one day when I was out shopping as my femme self. We both reached for a colorful tablecloth at the same time and our hands collided. I jumped a bit as I felt a kind of jolt. It looked to me as if she might have felt it too.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, when I had recovered. “You go ahead.”

“No, you have it. I’ll get another,” she said.

“I was just going to look at it; I didn’t really want to buy it.”

She acquiesced and took it. We both admired it, and she decided to buy it.

We kept looking at each other, as if we expected something to happen.

To break the tension I invited her to have a coffee with me.

“I’m Vicki Manners,” I introduced myself. (My own little private joke, MANners.)

“Chelsea Taylor,” she said and held out her hand.

As we shook hands I felt that little jolt again.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I felt a little electricity there. Have you been shuffling around on carpet, by any chance?”

“No,” she laughed, “But I felt the spark too.”

We bonded over coffee and it just seemed like we were old friends reconnecting. We were close to the same age (twenties) and had enough common interests to make the meeting seem even more synchronistic.

We liked each other enough to exchange contact information, and I impulsively invited her to go see a movie later that week.

As time passed we grew close and met several times a week, for movies, meals, walks and so much more. She became my best friend, and I really liked her, but I was beginning to get a little frustrated. I wasn’t Vicki all the time, and would have liked to have a friendship and physical relationship with her as Morgan, but the longer we were together the less likely that seemed. But in the end, I was just happy to have her as a friend.

-o0o-

It all came crashing down one day when we were having lunch at a café. I had my wallet out on the table, and went to use the Ladies Room. When I got back she was glaring at me.

I looked at her, puzzled, and she held up my driver’s license, in the name of Morgan Manry, Sex: M. My heart sank. Obviously she had assumed the worst.

“Well, Morgan, care to comment on this?”

“No… not really,” I said in a resigned way.

“You’ve been deceiving me for months!” she hissed.

“But have I, really? I have a different name, yes, but I’ve never lied to you, and my feelings of friendship are sincere.”

“You’re a different SEX!” she said, as if that was a crime.

“Chelsea, this really isn’t the time or place to have this conversation. All I can say is that I am your friend, no matter how I’m dressed.”

She obviously didn’t want to hear that. She gathered her things and almost ran out of the café.

I felt awful. Wasn’t the important part that we were friends? I mean, I could understand why she felt deceived, but it had nothing to do with how I felt about her. I wasn’t trying to, say, lull her into a false sense of security by dressing as a woman, and then attack her. I’d certainly had numerous opportunities to do that, and it would never occur to me anyway.

Heaving a huge, sad sigh, I paid the bill for both of us and went home.

As I sat alone in my small living room, I was sorrowful that I’d lost a good friend. Chelsea made a lot of stuff fun, stuff I’d never taken a lot of pleasure in before.

-o0o-

I went about my business and tried to be philosophical. I couldn’t help it that I liked to present as a woman. I didn’t have the sort of job that would allow that so I had to lead a double life. I was blessed to have an appearance that allowed me to pass successfully as Vicki, which was great, because I preferred her to Morgan.

I wondered how Chelsea would have reacted if I had had SRS and then found out I used to be a man. Would that also be a deal-breaker? Oh well, I guessed I wouldn’t be finding that out any time soon, or at all. I was not the type to push myself on someone who didn’t want me. Friends were rare for me, and I’d miss her. I just sadly chalked it up to Life Lessons Learned.
.
.
Chelsea

When I accidentally found out my best friend was really a man, I was pissed off. All this time, the things we shared—some of which I would never share with a man!

What would possess a man to dress and act like a woman? Was he trying to get me alone in order to… No, we’d been alone plenty of times, and in each other’s houses. Was he trying to do undercover work to find a mate? Find out what I liked, and so on? If so this seemed a pretty overelaborate way to go about it! No, that didn’t seem practical.

As the weeks passed I did miss Vicki. She was fun to do stuff with. Wait, he was fun to do stuff with… No, that didn’t seem right either. I never felt Vicki was anything other than a woman. I was getting confused about this.

To try and figure things out, a few times I hid near Vicki/Morgan’s apartment and watched him set off for work. He was a kind of androgynous little man, skinny, with thick glasses, and he didn’t look very happy. Head down, hands in pockets. Nothing, in fact, like Vicki, though knowing what I knew I could tell it was her, er, him. Just as a contrast, one Saturday I hid again in order to see Vicki come out for her weekly workout. She looked better than Morgan, but seemed to have lost that spark that I so used to love.

-o0o-

Somehow I couldn’t just put this whole thing behind me. I needed some help to try and figure it all out, so I went to see a counselor.

The counselor tried to get at what was making me so mad about the whole thing. When I said it was about sharing stuff with a man when I thought it was a woman, she said,

“It sounds like this man has a very strong feminine side. In fact, had it not been for you violating his or her privacy to see the license, you would not have known, and would still be happy about the relationship.”

I wanted to protest that, but it was true, and at the time I thought I was dodging some sort of bullet by confronting him. But really, all that had resulted was that I missed my friend.

“I miss my friend, but the whole relationship was fictional, based on a lie.”

“Is that really true, Chelsea? You said she told you she was your friend, no matter how she was dressed. You have only happy memories of the time you spent together, so where is the fiction and the lie in that? It’s the same as a dream. If you learn something valuable in a dream, should you discount it because it happened in the dream world?”

“I see your point. I’m just confused because I really liked her, and I find it very difficult to transfer those feelings to him.”

“It’s simply another aspect of one personality, Chelsea. We all have both female and male characteristics in us, and in some one or the other can be stronger. I don’t think he lied to you about being your friend.”

“No, neither do I, really.”

“Let me ask you this: what if you two had been friends for, say, fifty years, and when she died you found out she was physically a man. Would that negate all the happy years you spent together?”

I had to think for a minute. Was the amount of time the real issue? By the time we had been friends for fifty years, we would have known each other pretty thoroughly. I really didn’t know the answer to this, but maybe by the time she died I would be more open to think of it as a quirk of personality. Maybe?

-o0o-

The counseling was helpful. But it took me ages to get things straight in my head. That a man could be such a convincing woman was something new to me, and reconciling my old friend with a man was hard to do.

After some months of all this mental effort, eventually I worked up my courage to go there and knock on the door. Morgan answered, squinting at me and looking rather lost.

“Yes? Can I help you?” he said.

I felt very let down, that he wanted to play it like this. It did not seem like an encouraging new beginning. “I… it’s me, Chelsea,” I said.

“Oh! I’d say it’s nice to see you, Chelsea, but I’m having trouble finding my glasses, and I can’t really, actually, see you. Please come in.”

Hearing that my hopes rose as I stepped inside. I was surprised to find I was a bit taller than he was. I guess Vicki always wore heels. He led the way into the living room and offered me a seat. He sat across from me, tucking his feet under his butt. He reminded me of a hurt puppy.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, very politely.

“No thank you.”

“So, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” he asked, in a neutral tone of voice.

“I’ve had a lot of trouble figuring out how I feel about you and Vicki. I have never known a man with a strong feminine side and I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

Morgan was silent, waiting for the rest of it.

“I even went to a counselor to try and understand why I feel this way, and why you do what you do. But she got me to see that the experience was real and valuable, no matter what you looked like. My gut reaction was that you were trying to take advantage of me in some way.”

He still said nothing, but looked very sad as he sat there.

“Then I thought over all the time we spent together, and the opportunities you had to do something nasty, but you never were anything but a good friend to me. I’m very sorry I misjudged you.”

He thought this over, and then softly said “Thank you for that.”

“So I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner some time, if you are still interested in being friends.”

“Who are you inviting, Chelsea?”

“Either one of you. I like Vicki, but I don’t really know Morgan. So I’d be happy to take either one out.”

“It might be a good idea for Morgan to go, so you realize I’m not some sex fiend or some kind of, I don’t know, crazy person. And to be totally honest with you, when we first met I had hopes of Morgan getting together with you, but the longer we were friends, the less it seemed like that could ever happen. I really did feel a jolt of electricity or whatever that was the first time we touched each other. I even thought, ‘Could she be The One?’ And do you remember right after that, we were standing there, kind of waiting for something to happen?”

“Yes, I remember that feeling, and I felt the jolt too, and wondered about it a lot! And it’s true – there was a real feeling of expectation, but I didn’t know what I was expecting. I’d never been attracted to a woman before, so it was a bit confusing.”

He perked up a little at hearing this.

“Maybe it’s something worth exploring,” he said. “Now, could I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure,” I answered.

“Would you please help me find my glasses??”

I laughed. “Of course I will!”

-o0o-

Morgan and I did go to dinner a few days later, and I enjoyed his company. He reminded me of Vicki, yet he was different, and in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He was certainly low-key in comparison, maybe even guarded.

Eventually we came to an agreement that every other time we went to do something together Vicki and Morgan would alternate. I found this useful because it let me see the personality differences between them, and also because I grew to love both of them. Frankly, I’m not even sure Vicki was aware of those differences in herself. She just automatically acted a certain way when she was Vicki. I also came to feel that Vicki was more of a real person than Morgan. As time went on he almost felt like a hollow façade.

The nice thing was that Vicki got that old spark back in her eye, and that made me feel better too.

When we moved into a physical relationship we experimented with necking with both personalities. Morgan was kind of clumsy but sweet, and eager to please. Vicki kissed like a girl, but I somehow didn’t end up feeling like a lesbian. I almost wished I hadn’t known about Morgan, so I could have seen if I would have felt the same with Vicki…well, assuming we had ever gone down that road.

The important thing was that that initial spark was still there between us, and we relished our relationship.

We ended up moving in together, and I convinced Morgan to find a job where he could be accepted as Vicki. It was obvious he preferred to present as a woman, and I knew he’d be happier if he didn’t need to keep switching back and forth. He was able to find another job in his field, with a progressive company, and her productivity increased since she was a happier person.

We tied the knot two years after we started cohabiting. Poor Vicki had to pretend to be a man for the small ceremony, but she really made up for it on our girly honeymoon.

The End.

Games Can Lead to Love

We were lying in bed in Pam’s dorm room, and she was on top of me. I was already naked. She asked me to unhook her bra, and we kissed while I managed it. It slid off her shoulders and down to my chest. She was propped up on her arms, and took a look at me. A smile formed on her face.

“That looks very sweet on you.”

Okay, I guess that was all right. Sexy games and all that. But then she hitched her knees up so she could kneel, with a knee on either side of me, and pulled me up to flip the bra around and put it on me. Then we were kissing while she fastened it behind me!

She grabbed some socks, balled them up and stuck them in the cups.

“Yeah. I like what I’m seeing!” she said.

In short order she had a pair of lustrous panties on me, and black tights. She fumbled in her drawer and pulled out a cincher, which she also got on to me. Yes, it felt too tight, but this was kind of fun, and the sensations were pleasant, on the whole.

She found me a white blouse that buttoned up the back, and fastened it. It had a satin Peter Pan collar and belled sleeves with elastic cuffs. Then she got out a black pleated , knee-length skirt and had me step into it. As hard as it was for me to believe, her pumps fit me. I had never thought about it too much, but we were close to the same height (5 ft. 6 for me) and weight. With the pumps on I was the same height. The next thing she did was part my long dark hair in the middle and put a barrette on either side to hold up a little piece away from my face. She gave me a coat of lip gloss and then looked very happy with herself. She threw on my shirt and pants and then embraced me.

“You are my kind of girl!” she said. She was about to add something when the fire alarm went off.

With no time to change she thrust her better winter coat at me, and put on her down vest. Then she pulled me out into the controlled chaos in the hall.

-o0o-

Pam and I had been seeing each other only for a month, and were getting along very well. We shared two classes and saw each other as often as possible. I really liked her, but I had no idea she had a thing for cross-dressed guys. And I wasn’t exactly against that, but I would never have gone outside her dorm room dressed up. I’m not saying I would rather have burned up, but no way was I ready to be in public in a skirt.

-o0o-

Along with everyone else we exited the building to stand in the parking lot nearby. It was chilly but above freezing, and I was glad of her coat. I wished it had a hood, to hide my face.

There was an announcement I didn’t quite catch, but the gist of it was that we would be allowed back in in about a half hour. So Pam said we’d walk over to the Student Union and hang out there until we could get back in. It’s about a ten minute walk. During the walk I got used to the pumps and their two-inch heel.

Once there she got us each a hot cocoa, as she had brought her purse, and I, well, I had no purse, and my wallet was certainly not in these clothes.

For Pam this was a more or less normal situation, and she was completely relaxed. Not so me. For one thing I didn’t think my baritone voice would pass as female, and for another I was still in a very panicked state of mind about being out and dressed like this. So she did most of the talking.

In about ten minutes a couple of very large guys came in. The bigger of the two saw me and headed straight for me. “Karen!!” he shouted. I looked behind me, but there was no one there.

Once in front of me, he looked directly at me and said, “Karen! Where in the world have you been?”

I looked up at him, and kind of whispered, “I am not Karen.”

His brow furrowed and he said, “Of course you are! I’ve been really worried about you! You just disappear, and now I see you here, all relaxed and sipping cocoa, while I was thinking maybe you were kidnapped!”

“Um, listen, whoever you are. I’m telling you, I am not Karen, and I don’t know you. Please leave me alone.”

Pam added, “Yeah, buzz off.”

The guy, who may have been the teeniest bit tipsy, looked like he was not going to take no for an answer, and he leaned down and picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. He turned around and started out, while I was waving my arms and shouting, “Help!!”

No one paid much attention. Pam just sat there with a very odd look on her face, but did nothing.

I beat on the guy’s back a little, which he hardly appeared to notice, and in reply he reached up with his other hand and spanked me!

I was mad and afraid. I didn’t know if this guy was going to try and rape me or kill me or what, whenever he discovered I was not Karen, but I didn’t really want to find out.

Yelling didn’t seem to do any good. I figured the guy was a star football player or something. The few people who did react were smiling, as if he and I were playing a game.

He continued on his way, with his buddy following, and I saw we were heading for the frat houses. As bad as a boys’ dorm might be in this getup, I thought a frat house would be a worse place for me now. I would have struggled more, but that spank was still smarting.

At the door of one of the houses, he set me back down on my feet, and I saw he was more than a head taller than I was, even with the heels. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside and up the front steps. We entered a nice-sized room, which I assumed was his, and he pushed me down onto a chair.

“What is going on with you? Where’ve you been for the last week?”

“Look, whoever you are, I don’t know how I can explain it any more clearly that you are mistaken. I am not Karen and I have never been Karen. I’m sorry she’s been missing, but I can give you no information about her.”

“Sticking to that lame story, eh?” he asked. “You’ve been my girl for a year now and you’re going to play games with me? You could have just told me you wanted to break up with me.”

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t figure out how to get through to this guy.

“Look, why don’t you try phoning Karen? When she answers you’ll see that she is not me.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last week?” he said. “You never answer my calls.”

“Oh my god! No wonder Karen split up with you! You won’t take no for an answer and won’t listen to reason! Do you want me to take a DNA test to prove I’m not her?”

To my surprise he broke down then and started weeping. Apparently he had heard this line before. I calmed down a little bit.

“Look, whoev— hey, what’s your name?”

“It’s Nick, as if you didn’t know.”

“Nick, I’m really sorry about Karen, but for all either of us know, she could have been kidnapped or injured. Have you checked hospitals? Called her parents? Called the cops? Anything?”

“Well… No. I’ve just been calling and getting voicemail. I never thought of those other things.”

How dumb is this guy? “Okay, listen Nick. If you will stop saying I am Karen, I’ll try and help you find her.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“If you will, I will,” I replied. “Hey, do you by any chance have a photo of you and Karen? I’d really like to see why you think I look like her.”

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the photos until he found a solo shot of Karen. He handed me the phone. I hadn’t really gotten a look at myself since Pam did this to me, so I asked him if there was a mirror anywhere. He pointed toward his en suite, and I went in there to compare. To my shock he was right—she and I looked very close, like sisters, maybe. She had similar-colored hair and it was done up the same way mine was. I did see a small mole on the left side of her chin, and I brought Nick the phone and showed him the mole, and how I didn’t have one. Also, she was smiling in the picture and had dimples, where I had none, so I smiled for him so he could see that.

It was starting to penetrate his thick skull that perhaps he was wrong about me being Karen.

“Look… I’m really sorry. You look a lot like her and I’ve been going out of my mind with worry. Hey, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s, um,” not having thought of one, I said the first one that came to mind, “Cindy. I guess I understand where you’re coming from, Nick. So let’s start calling around.”

I had him phone the campus police, and then her parents. Bingo! Apparently her grandmother was deathly ill, and they brought her home with no warning. She had forgotten her phone at the university, and was being kept busy visiting her grandmother and helping out. They told Nick they would ask her to call him at the earliest opportunity.

“Feel better now, Nick?”

“Much better, Cindy. I’m really sorry I dragged you away. Let me walk you back to your dorm.”

I accepted, since I thought I’d be safer now that it was getting late, and also because when he wasn’t crazed with worry, he was a pretty nice guy.

“Where’s your purse, Cindy?”

“Oh, there was a fire drill and I didn’t have a chance to grab it. We were waiting it out in the Student Union when you came in.”

“Ahh,” he said.

He walked me right to the door of Pam’s dorm, and then, to my shock, gave me a big hug, almost crushing my ribs.

“You’re a nice girl, Cindy. I’ll see you around,” he said, and walked away.

‘Yeah, I don’t think so,’ I said to myself.

I got myself to Pam’s floor and knocked on her door. She answered but didn’t stand aside to let me in.

“So, done with your boyfriend, Karen?”

I stared at her incredulously.

“WHAT????”

“There you were, acting all coquettish for that jock. Obviously you’ve dressed up before.”

My ears were hearing these words, but they weren’t making any sense inside my head.

“Are you crazy? You call that coquettish??? And why weren’t you helping me? You just let him carry me away. You didn’t even go for help!” I retorted.

“I didn’t know I was dealing with a back-stabbing, two-timing cross-dresser!” she spat at me.

“You don’t know how wrong you are, and if you think so poorly of me, then just give me my clothes and I’ll leave.”

“Oh, I don’t know why, but I can’t find them,” she said, very insincerely. (She certainly wasn’t wearing them anymore.)

“Fine. Just give me my wallet and phone and I’ll leave.”

She grudgingly handed them over, and then tried to demand her clothes.

“I am not walking back to my dorm nude. You’ll get these back whenever I can get them back to you,” I said, and left.

This was not how the day was supposed to go. I had thought I knew Pam fairly well. How she could assume what she did was just beyond my comprehension.

On my way down the hallway a tall form detached itself from another doorway and started to walk with me. It was Heather Farris, who was in one of my classes.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your little argument with Pam. I was there at the Student Union. She really believed that jock was your boyfriend?”

“Apparently. She’s just as deluded as he was. She didn’t even try and help me when he threw me onto his shoulder.”

She looked at me as we walked. “Do I know you?” she asked.

I stopped and looked up at her and sighed.

“Yes, Heather. It’s Kevin, from Communications class.”

“Ah. Oh. Well, you look very nice, Kevin.”

“Just call me Cindy. It’s the name I told that big jock. Pam and I were, uh, playing before the fire drill. She got me all dressed up and then the alarm sounded.”

“Oh, and now she says she can’t find your clothes. How are you going to get back to your dorm room?” she asked.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, Heather. I really do not want to walk in there looking like this, but I don’t have a stash of clothes somewhere along the way.”

“Hmm. What if I took you to a shop for some clothes to get you into the building?”

“I have hardly any money. They’d have to be pretty cheap clothes. Ugh! I just realized she has my shoes and coat too. Buying new shoes was not an expense that I had budgeted for.”

I stopped and sat down on one of the benches, and put my head in my hands. Heather sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulders.

“Maybe I can help you,” she said. “I know I’m a little taller, but I have some clothes I think would get you into your building and room.”

I looked at her with a flicker of hope in my eyes.

“I always thought you were a nice guy Kevin. And you really do look good.” She smiled and stood up, holding a hand out. I took it and she pulled me up, and we walked back the way we had come.

In her room she pulled out an old sweatshirt. That could work. Then she found some sweat pants. They were too long, but we rolled them up, and they would get the job done. She was kind enough to unbutton the blouse and take the bra off me, and then helped get the lip gloss off. I borrowed her brush and got my hair back to its normal side part. She had an elastic for me.

The pumps looked pretty jarring under the sweats, but the sweats covered them somewhat and they’d have to do. And the coat was obviously a girl’s coat, but I could just carry that once I got to the building. And, hey! how was I going to afford a new coat??

“Heather, it is so nice of you to help me out. How can I repay you?” I asked.

“I’ll think of something, Kevin.”

I turned to her and gave her a chaste hug, which she accepted.

She gave me a plastic bag to put the clothes in, and I walked back to my dorm. I took the coat off before I went inside and attracted no attention on my way to my room. Fortunately I had a tiny single room, and no roommate.

-o0o-

I cleaned Pam’s clothes, and on the day of my Communications class I gave the bag of them to Heather and asked her to put them by Pam’s door. I had to wear my jean jacket now, with a sweater, to try and stay warm, and a pair of sneakers, which were my only alternative to the heavy shoes that Pam had somehow ‘misplaced.’

“I don’t know why you’re being so kind to her,” said Heather.

“Hey, just because she has decided to go whacko, that doesn’t mean I need to sink to the same level. I don’t want to have anything I need to feel guilty about, like losing her clothes the way she ‘lost’ mine.” I replied.

Heather had noticed how cold I was when I arrived at class, and one day she presented me with a nice woolen scarf. That really helped, and I thanked her profusely.

“Kevin, what if you and I go to the thrift shop in town? Maybe we can find you a coat and some boots, maybe even gloves?”

“Okay. That sounds great.”

We went Friday afternoon and were able to pick up all three items for pretty cheap. They weren’t exactly what I would have gotten if I’d had the money, but beggars can’t be choosers. I thanked Heather again for her help, and wondered again how I could repay her kindness.

-o0o-

The two classes I had with Pam were large enough so that I was able to stay out of her way. I had no wish at all to see her.

It was several weeks after the fire drill, and I heard from a friend that Pam was in the Student Union when Nick walked in with the real Karen. Pam happened to look up and see them, and her eyes bugged out. Nick and Karen were all lovey-dovey, as you might expect, and I’m sure Pam thought it was me. Nick and Karen sat close enough to Pam that she could hear Karen’s voice, which was nothing at all like mine. Add to that she was wearing something that showed off a bit of cleavage very nicely.

But as smart as I thought Pam was, she still made a snide comment to Karen.

“Hey KEVIN, how’s it going?” she sneered.

They both looked at her, very puzzled. I think Karen was willing to let it be, but Nick wasn’t so forgiving.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“I was just wondering how things are going with your GIRL friend,” Pam, said, digging herself a bit deeper.

“Very well, thank you. What’s your problem?”

“Let’s sit somewhere else, Nick. She obviously has some kind of mental disease,” said Karen.

They got up, although Karen could tell Nick was itching to defend her.

At this point I walked through the door. I saw Pam at the same moment she saw me, and I averted my gaze and headed in another direction. I’m sorry I did, because as a result I didn’t see that Nick and Karen were there, so I could have then looked back to see how red Pam’s face was.

I got myself a cocoa to go, and left.

A couple days after that I found a bag at my dorm room door with my missing clothes, coat and shoes in it. I guessed that was as close to an apology as I was going to get.

-o0o-

In the meantime Heather and I had been spending some time together, and also did some of our homework together. I really enjoyed her company, but I wasn’t entertaining any ideas that she would want to have a closer relationship. Every so often I’d ask if she had thought of what I could do for her, but all she’d say was that she hadn’t forgotten about it.

And then the day came. It was a couple of months later. We had just finished our homework and I was visiting in her dorm room. She sat down next to me on the bed and put her arm around my shoulders.

“Kevin, we get along pretty well, don’t we?”

“Yessss,” I said slowly, wondering where this was going to go.

“I have this idea for how you can repay me. I was very impressed with how you looked dressed as a girl, and I’d like to take you somewhere dressed up.”

“Oooo-kay, Like… where?”

“Well, this is going to sound weird, as well as really old-fashioned, but my parents have this idea that I’m interested in the son of a friend of theirs. Nothing I’ve said so far has changed their minds about this, so I thought, what if I show them I’m a lesbian? It could be at a dinner where they invite the guy and his parents. You and I come as girlfriends and maybe that will teach them not to interfere in, shall we say, youthful mating rituals.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. You dress me up, take me to a dinner and we, like, hug and kiss passionately in their presence to let them know your sexual preferences? Heather, we don’t even kiss now.”

She turned my head toward her and placed her lips on mine. It was a very satisfying kiss, and left me kind of dazed. I stared into her eyes, and slowly went in for a kiss myself. She had a bit of a glazed expression too, and willingly opened her lips to me. The kissing progressed to deep French kisses and hugging and gradually lying down on her bed. It lasted quite a while, and we finally lay there contented, in each other’s arms.

“Wow, Heather. That was really nice.”

“I totally agree! You know, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble at all kissing at my parents’ dinner.”

No, except that I’d have to go there as a girl.

“Don’t you think your parents are going to object to blatant displays like that in their presence?” I asked. “I mean, even if I went as myself they’d hardly want to look at us make out in front of them.”

“Well, that’s true, but we want to make a point, so maybe we’ll just kiss at every almost-discreet opportunity, and hold hands the rest of the time. How does that sound?”

I wasn’t sure that any of it sounded like a very smart thing to do. But I said, “I guess it could be worth a try. And I do owe you.”

-o0o-

Heather made the arrangements for the dinner in three weeks, and told her parents she was bringing her girlfriend. She didn’t ask them to invite the unwanted parties, because she knew they’d be invited in any case.

Then she bought me some basic girl clothes so that we could go shop for a nice dress for the dinner. She was fine paying for it, as her family had way more money than mine. We found a serious enough dress for the occasion at a thrift shop, and she got one for herself too.

She also bought me a purse, some decent breast forms and a cincher and tried to coach me on my voice and mannerisms, although she didn’t think I needed much, from what she had seen on the day of The Great Fiasco. She thought I came across very naturally as a girl. That made me wonder about myself.

Way before I was ready the day of the dinner arrived, and Heather drove us the hour or so to where her folks lived. We entered the house holding hands. After we hung up our coats she put her arm around me and introduced me to her folks. Her dad was taller than she was, and her mom was about the same height. I was the only short person in the room.

“Mom, dad, this is Cindy Dillon, my girlfriend.”

“How do you do, Mr. and Mrs. Farris.”

They greeted me, I smiled and shook their hands, then Cindy put her arm back around me. Her parents looked a little puzzled.

“Oh Heather, I invited the Roberts and their Martin. I hope you don’t mind,” said her mother.

“No, mother, that’s fine,” she said, and nibbled under my ear a little bit.

Her folks went into the kitchen, presumably to talk about Heather’s odd behavior, and the two of us stayed in the living room. Heather had her eye on the big picture window, and when she saw the Roberts’ car parking outside she took me into a loving embrace and we shared a splendid kiss in front of the window, which lasted until we heard the bell.

“Heather, would you please get the door?” came from the kitchen.

“Sure, mom.”

We went together and opened the door to the Roberts family, who had peculiar looks on their faces.

“Won’t you come in, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, Martin? This is my girlfriend, Cindy.” She looked at me with undisguised lust as the Roberts gaped.

“Uh, yes, uh, very pleased to meet you, Cindy,” said Mr. Roberts. Mrs. Roberts said nothing. Martin, who was tall and handsome in a country club way, didn’t look that happy.

We took their coats and hung them in the closet, and showed them into the living room. Shortly her parents came out and greeted the Roberts.

What I can say about the evening was that it went according to Heather’s plan. There seemed to be more than one contrived meeting in the kitchen between the older people, and Martin didn’t say very much, as we rubbed up against each other and touched as much as possible.

The Roberts left in a sort of frosty mood shortly after the meal was over, all their plottings up in smoke. Once they were gone, Heather showed me up to her old bedroom. We were followed by her mother, who stood there with a hand on her hip, looking decidedly pissed off.

“Since when are you a Lesbian, Heather?”

“Since I met Cindy here.” She looked at me adoringly, then turned back and said, “Not that it’s really any of your business. I told you fifty times I didn’t like Martin, but you never listened.”

Her mother sputtered a bit, and then said, “I’m not happy about this,” and walked out.

“Heather, was this going to be an arranged marriage to consolidate two rich families?” I asked.

“Something like that. They just wouldn’t give up on their machinations, never paying the slightest attention to the fact that I had less than no interest in him.”

“Am I going to be a problem for you with your folks?” I certainly didn’t want to cause a schism in the family.

“No, not you. They basically need to learn that I won’t stand for this kind of thing.”

I started to wonder just how far they would go to get their way. Would they try and split us up? Actually, for that matter, were we even together? I thought our ‘practice’ kissing sealed the deal, at least for me, but Heather hadn’t said anything about becoming exclusive, so I didn’t know where we stood. I mean, I was doing this as a favor for her, to pay back her kindness, so I should have no expectations that it was anything more than that. I tried tamping down my desire for her a bit, though it wasn’t easy.

-o0o-

We stayed the night, though they put us in separate bedrooms. The next morning I went into Heather’s room and she got me ready in a denim skirt and a long-sleeved top. She decided to take a quick shower, and while she was occupied her parents cornered me.

“I don’t know who you are, Cindy, but you don’t fit into our plans for Heather,” began her father.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Farris, but Heather is very smart, and can think for herself, and she doesn’t believe in arranged marriages, especially in this country and century.”

“Martin is a very good catch, and he’d be able to give her things I’m sure you couldn’t even dream of,” he countered.

“I’m sure that’s very true, sir. I have very little money and I’m not even done with university yet. But then again, Heather and I weren’t planning on getting married tomorrow.”

That seemed to surprise them just a bit.

“Oh, well, we’re pleased to hear that,” he said.

“Mr. Farris, you need to understand that does not mean that Heather will magically be interested in Martin, who probably sees her mainly as a means to an end, just as you see him as one. I’m afraid it doesn’t say much for the way you think of your own daughter that you’d want to use her to cement an alliance, and find that more important than her happiness. All I can offer Heather at this point is my undying love and devotion, and I hope she feels the same about me.”

“I do,” she said, from the doorway. How long had she been listening?

“I do love you, Cindy, and I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you.”

My eyes went as wide as they could. “Do you really mean that, Heather?”

She came over to me and pulled me to her. “Yes, Cindy, I do. I love you.”

I couldn’t help it; my eyes filled with tears and I hugged her tight. She gently kissed me and turned to her parents with steely resolve.

“I will not tolerate any more interference in my love life. There had better not be any digging for dirt on Cindy, or otherwise trying to undermine our relationship. If that happens, you two will never see me again.”

The Farrises looked shocked. I think they were starting to understand the depth of Heather’s commitment, and it evidently surprised them. It also seemed like they never knew she was capable of standing her ground.

“We thought you were just being stubborn about Martin,” said her dad.

“That’s because you never truly listened to me. You were more interested in your desires than mine. If you’ll think back, I told you countless times that I didn’t even like him. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, so you didn’t hear it.”

They had the grace to look ashamed.

“We owe you an apology, Heather, and you too, Cindy.”

“Thank you, father, mother. Would you please leave us alone now?”

They turned and left, closing the door. We were still hugging.

“Do you really love me, Heather, or was that part of the act?”

“Can’t you tell, Cindy? I fell for you the first time I saw you in the dorm.”

My mind wandered back and I remembered that the first time I’d seen her in the dorm I was dressed as Cindy. We had been acquainted before that in our Communications class.

“Wait, does that mean you love Cindy and not Kevin?”

“No, I love both of you, but meeting Cindy kind of triggered something. I already thought Kevin was cute, but you were going with Pam.”

“God, what a mistake that was!” I said.

“But if she hadn’t gotten you dressed up, then we wouldn’t be standing here together now. Everything happens for a reason.”

“Good point! You’re even smarter than I already gave you credit for!”

“So yes, I do love you and I do want to marry you… both of you!”

“Meaning I’d be Kevin at times, and Cindy at other times?”

“That’s right, girl.”

“Okay. I think I could be good with that. Being Cindy isn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. Yes, I will marry you!”

“Oh, and just in case you’re worried, I’m a trust fund baby, so we won’t starve.”

“Wow, this day just keeps getting better and better!”

The End.

--- I didn't even mean to WRITE this story. Meanwhile, what about the three other stories languishing, waiting for endings to write themselves??

Francis Holcomb, known as Fran, carefully walked into his sick mother’s bedroom carrying a bowl of steaming soup broth. She had been extremely ill for several months, and was now terminal. Twelve-year-old Fran had taken care of her mostly single-handedly to the best of his ability, but the outlook was very bleak.

“Fran, honey, I don’t think I can get it down,” she said, weakly.

“Pleeeease, mom? I don’t want you to die,” said Fran.

“Fran, I don’t want to die, but I really think I don’t have much time left. You’ve taken care of me so well, and I don’t really want to leave you alone with your father, but it isn’t looking like I have any choice. My little Frannie, you have a soft side to you that your father doesn’t like. I just don’t know how I can protect you from him.”

He leaned over her and hugged her for a long time.

Her breathing was very labored, and she died that night.

-o0o-

Jim Holcomb didn’t spend any time mourning his wife. She should have been stronger. Now he’s stuck with the sissy kid. Jim doubts the kid is really his. No seed of his could have resulted in such a small, girly boy.

Fran was completely bereft, sobbing his heart out. Jim made arrangements for a cheap burial with no service, and hit the bar afterward on his way home. When he came home and found his young son crying, he belted him.

-o0o-

With the wife gone, Jim ordered Fran take over her duties, cleaning, cooking and laundry. Jim hadn’t noticed, but Fran had mostly been doing all this already, as his mother was too sick to leave her bed. The way Jim saw it, Fran was so girly already he may as well do women’s work. Fran was numb now, and just did as he was told. He didn’t see how he could ever escape this hellish life. Beatings with Jim’s belt became a regular thing, whether or not there was anything to beat him about.

Several months later, after Fran had unceremoniously turned thirteen, Jim came up with a plan to be rid of the brat.

“Frank, you and I are going to go camping! Doesn’t that sound fun?” said, Jim, trying to sound enthusiastic, as if he was talking to a five-year-old.

Fran, who didn’t like being called Frank, was not in the slightest bit interested in camping, but he knew better than to say so. He just said, “That sounds great, Dad.” The jovial act certainly raised his suspicions, but he didn’t know what to expect.

They packed for the trip. Fran brought his mother’s ancient red flannel sleeping bag. Jim got himself a new, super-insulated bag. There was no tent, because “only sissies need a tent when they camp,” Jim said.

It was a gray day when they set out. They got in the pickup and Jim drove all day long, leaving central Wisconsin and heading north in Minnesota to a wilderness area near the Canadian border he had found on the map. Jim had the radio on the whole time, to discourage conversation. Once they reached the park he drove for another hour, until he could see nothing but trees and a dirt road. They hadn’t passed another car since long before entering the forest. He pulled off into a two-car, dirt parking area and sent Fran to find some tinder for a fire in a little clearing about a quarter mile in from the truck. They set up some stones for a campfire and Jim made the fire. Then they ate sandwiches Fran had packed. The light was waning by this time, and Jim told Fran to put on his pajamas and turn in. The temperature was in the upper 40s.

Jim sat watching the fire until he was sure Fran was asleep and then quietly walked back to the truck, taking Fran’s clothes and everything else they had brought, hoping he’d die of exposure and hunger. If anyone noticed Fran was missing Jim could claim the boy had wandered off by himself, or was a runaway.

-o0o-

In the morning it took only one look for Fran to realize he was on his own, and he was actually relieved. Of course he knew his father hated him, and he had never really had feelings for his father. Nothing he could do would please Jim. Since his mother died Jim had been freely calling him a sissy and a damned fairy, along with the beatings, so being left on his own in a forest didn’t seem so bad in comparison to life with Jim Holcomb.

He lay there in the sleeping bag for a while, thinking about his life up to now, but knew he had to start moving or he really would die out there.

It was cold that morning, around 40°. Fran put the sleeping bag around his shoulders to try and keep warm and started walking, barefoot and in his threadbare pajamas. It took most of the day to make his way out of the wilderness area. He was hungry and cold, so walking was really the only thing he could do to try and warm up. He spent that night in the woods. His feet were torn up from rocks and roots and his stomach ached from hunger. The next day, after six hours trudging along the empty road, he came to a lonely ramshackle house and knocked on the door.

It was a single-mother family with four girls, Rosie, Betsy, Renee and Lesley. Rosie, the eldest, was seventeen, and Lesley, the youngest was nine. The mother, introduced as Mrs. Langley, had a pinched, unhappy face, and was not friendly at all, but the older girls talked her into taking him in. They couldn’t believe he was walking around barefoot and in pajamas.

After he was cleaned up, and some gauze bandages wrapped around his feet, their clothes were all that was available, but he was grateful for anything, and girls clothes didn’t bother him. He was very aware of the fact that he had a girly side. Rosie and Betsy saw the scars on his arms and back, asked about them, and realized just how bad things must have been. They saw a frail, small, abused kid, who certainly looked younger than thirteen. He was everything Jim Holcomb didn’t want in a son. The girls supported him and gave him love, which he was starved for.

Mrs. Langley was on the cleaning staff at an office building in town. She had a piece of crap car that got her there and back. She looked at him, standing there in an old dress.

“We don’t have any money to buy you clothes, young man,” she snapped at him.

He hadn’t asked for any. He didn’t mind wearing the girls’ old clothes, and tried to be as helpful as possible, so that maybe Mrs. Langley would thaw out and start to like him. He cleaned, helped with the younger girls, swept up outside. But Mrs. Langley had bad experiences with men, such as her ex-husband, and didn’t want another mouth to feed, especially a male one. She was just barely civil to him. The only thing that kept him going was the support he got from the girls. They all adored him and he loved them back.

-o0o-

After about three weeks Mrs. Langley fell ill, and it was Fran who knew what to do for her. He took responsibility for taking care of her. He had experience as a caregiver, and was gentle and loving. She still lashed out at him, but now it was more out of her guilt for being so mean. He just kept quiet and continued taking care of her.

When she was well enough that her daughters could easily help her, Fran retreated and tried to stay out of her way, but unknown to him, he’d gotten under her skin. She realized she had taken out her hatred of men on him, but hadn’t figured out how to apologize yet.

Meanwhile, Fran had decided that, since she still didn’t like him, he might as well leave and try to find somewhere else to live. He was already too familiar with living with someone who couldn’t stand him. Besides, he knew they didn’t have much and he never wanted to be a burden. He couldn’t bear to say goodbye to the girls; they had been so kind. It would just be too hard. So he crept out at night, leaving a note in the kitchen.

-o0o-

The next morning one of the girls asked where Fran was.

“I haven’t seen him yet. Is he outside?”

It was Rosie who spotted a note on the kitchen table.

“Dear Langleys,

Thank you so much for taking care of me. It really meant so much to me. I can tell there isn’t much money to go around, so I am leaving so each of you can have more. Please don’t try and find me. I will be fine.

Love,
Fran”

To Rosie, it was obvious why he left.

“This is your fault!” she yelled at her mother. “You were so nasty to him that you drove him away! He took good care of you while you were so sick, and you still treated him like dirt!”

Mrs. Langley dissolved into tears of guilt, because she knew she owed him for taking care of her, and had been unfair, and none of it was his fault.

“Do you even know or care what he went through? His little body was a mass of scars from being beaten by his bastard of a father, who took him to the wilderness and abandoned him to die!”

Mrs. Langley felt much worse now. She hadn’t bothered to find out his story. It sounded like little Fran suffered a lot more from men than she had.

-o0o-

Meanwhile Fran wasn’t faring so well. He was in an old dress and a tattered coat they couldn’t repair any more. At least this time he was wearing some old shoes. He didn’t come to many houses along the road, but when he saw one he would knock and ask if he could work for a meal. A couple places took him up on it, doing bits of housework, but it wasn’t really enough. They all saw a skinny little girl in rags, who looked like a good breeze would blow her over.

At thirteen he was too young to get a job, but he also really didn’t want to go into foster care. On the fifth day after he left the Langleys he was just staggering into a small town when he had to sit down by the side of the road, weak from hunger and exposure. He lay down and gazed at the gray sky, wondering if would be worth getting up, and thinking that dying might be the best way out of this situation.

Gloria Matthews was driving back home when she saw what looked like a bundle of rags by the side of the road. As she got closer she realized it was a young girl. She was dirty and didn’t look like she could last much longer. Gloria stopped the car, got out, and checked to see if the girl had injuries.

“Honey, did a car hit you?” she asked.

“No,” Fran rasped out. “I’m just tired and a little hungry.”

“How long have you been lying here?”

“I don’t know. A half hour? An hour. It doesn’t really matter…”

Alarmed, Gloria picked her up and carefully carried her back to her car. The girl weighed almost nothing. She lay her down in the back seat and got back in.

She took Fran home, helped him inside and fed him. She really wanted to get him into the bath before anything else, because he stunk, but he was so malnourished she fed him first. He was unable to eat much, but felt a lot better for having something in his stomach. He was quite tired.

“Would you like a bath, honey?”

“I would love to have a bath, Miss Matthews” said Fran.

“You can call me Gloria, dear. While you’re in there I’ll wash your dress,” she offered, although she could see it was more of a rag than a garment. Fran seemed so sweet.

“I really don’t want to be any trouble,” he said automatically, but agreed without much resistance.

Fran gratefully eased into the warm, bubbly water, and quickly fell asleep. When Gloria came in to find out why he was so quiet she discovered he was not exactly female. She also saw the scars on his body and was angered anyone would beat such a gentle child. But she knew he was in trouble, and she had already taken quite a shine to him. Even without any clothes on he still seemed like a girl.

“Wake up, honey,” she said, gently shaking his shoulder.

Fran swam back to consciousness. He hadn’t even begun to wash his long, dirty hair, and so she did it for him. He just relished the attention and sensation; no one had ever done something like that for him.

She dried his hair, wrapped a towel around him and steered him to the guest room. She put a soft sleep shirt on him and got him into bed. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she had seen he wasn’t a girl, not that it would have bothered him.

-o0o-

The next morning he felt so much better. A night in a comfortable bed, and having a little food in his stomach seemed like the most wonderful things. He got up and padded into the kitchen. The sleep shirt was so long on him that he had to hold it up. Gloria sat him down and put a plate of food in front of him. She watched him daintily eat. Once he was finished, she asked, “Fran, dear, why don’t you tell me your story?”

“Okay. Let’s see… My mom was really sick last year, and I took care of her, but then she died.” He had to pause here as a few tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away and continued.

“My father never really liked me, and about a month ago he drove us hours and hours to a big forest, and then left me alone there during the night. He took away my clothes and shoes. So when I woke up the next day I started walking, in my pajamas. I walked all day and part of the night and then the next day I found a family to stay with, but the mother didn’t like me, so I left.”

Gloria was horrified by this matter-of-fact recital. “How long did you stay with them?”

“Just about a month?”

“How old are you, Fran?”

“Thirteen.”

Gloria was somewhat shocked at this. She would have guessed eleven.

“I just don’t know what to do. I won’t go back to my father, and I don’t want to go into foster care, because I’ve heard scary stories about it. When you picked me up I was just ready to die. It seemed like the easiest solution. No one wants me,” he said, looking at his plate.

Gloria was heartbroken hearing this sad story.

“Do you have any aunts or uncles, Fran?”

“Not on my mom’s side. My father has two brothers, but they’re just like him.”

“How did you end up in a dress?”

“The house where I stayed, there were only girls there, and they didn’t have the money to spend on clothes for me, so I just wore their clothes. I didn’t mind.”

Gloria wasn’t sure what to do with him. If she kept him that could open up cans and cans of worms when she put him in school. To get his school records they’d have to find the father, who would then go to jail. That would be a mess, and probably expensive, with lawyers and paperwork.

Gloria thought for a bit. He seemed quite comfortable as a girl, and very believable. “Fran, would you like to stay as a girl?” she asked, very gently.

He became emotional, thinking for a while. “I think I would. My mom knew I was like this, kind of more girl than boy, and she was worried about what would happen to me after she was gone. She knew my dad hated that I wasn’t big and manly… I wish I was normal, but I’m just not,” he said, tears falling.

Gloria hugged and comforted him.

“Well, sweetie, we’ll see how we can make that happen.”

-o0o-

Fran stayed with her for the week, recovering his strength. Gloria ran out and bought some girls clothes for him to wear, since nothing she had would fit him; he was just too small. She thought long and hard and formulated a plan to keep him. She would say he was her niece. The story would be that this niece was sent to stay with her while her father—Gloria’s brother—was out of the country. The school records were somehow lost, etc. It’s a small town and the story would be in no danger of being investigated. Taking in your niece is just something you do for family.

Gloria had a job which supported her needs. She owned her home, thanks to her parents, and would be able to take care of the two of them.

At school Fran was enrolled as Frances, or Frannie Matthews, and made friends and fit in pretty quickly with a small group of girls. She and Gloria quickly grew to love each other, and Gloria could see that living as a girl was the right path for Frannie. She got Frannie the psychological and medical help she needed to become a girl in every way possible.

Gloria introduced Frannie to her parents, three towns over, who fell in love with her. As time went on they informally adopted her as a granddaughter. Grandma died when Frannie was seventeen, and both she and Gloria were left some money, which went a long way in her SRS fund. She also found a part-time job in a candy shop in town, to add to this fund.

She hardly grew much taller, ending up at 5’4”, and still looked fairly frail, in spite of eating well now. She was not bad looking and had pleasant curves, under the influence of the hormones.

At eighteen Frannie graduated high school, had SRS, and once she was back on her feet enrolled at the community college nearby. In her French class she saw Betsy Langley, one of the four daughters from the house with the nasty mother. After five years of course Betsy didn’t recognize Frannie, and it was mainly because of her name that Frannie knew who she was. Since she had put that old life behind her, and it was really nothing but bad memories, she decided not to tell Betsy who she was. She loved all the Langley daughters, but the whole episode just reminded her of why she was with them to start with.

-o0o-

Betsy had noticed Frannie, and she reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who. They had never spoken, and had only the one class together. Betsy and her family had gradually worked their way out of poverty and the mother was now a pretty pleasant woman. Betsy was two years older than Frannie, and the second oldest in her family. After a month of seeing Frannie in class and wondering about her she realized she reminded her of little Fran, but… wasn’t Fran really a boy?

She called her older sister, Rosie, to talk about this girl.

“She reminds me so much of Fran, but she seems to be all girl. Was he really a boy? I wonder whatever happened to him. He didn’t mention any sisters to us, did he?”

“No, he said he was an only child, and no, I never actually saw, but he told us he was a boy. Let’s hope he found his way to somewhere better than where he came from,” said Rosie.

“You know, Rosie, I’ve seen this girl at the diner in town a few times. What if you come to lunch with me one day and see what you think of her?”

“Okay. I’m always happy to see you, Betsy.”

-o0o-

They picked a day Betsy was pretty sure Frannie would be eating there, and sure enough, there she was, at a table with another girl. They sat across the room so Rosie could observe discreetly.

“You’re right, Bets. She reminds me of Fran too. Do you know her name? Actually, I can’t even remember Fran’s last name.”

“No, we’ve never spoken. I just wanted confirmation that I wasn’t dreaming. Fran had hair just that color, but at this point it’s kind of hard to remember anything more about him.”

“Oh, I know!! Fran had scars on his forearms. His awful father beat him with a belt, he said. Too bad that girl is wearing long sleeves! Well, maybe you’ll be able to see her arms at some point.”

-o0o-

During the next quarter Frannie had a swimming class, and so did Betsy, so she was able to get a look at Frannie’s arms, and yes, they were scarred. She didn’t say anything, though, and in the locker room she did notice that Frannie appeared to be physically all girl. She also saw scars on Frannie’s back. She was having some trouble admitting it to herself, because this wasn’t her main interest, but she found herself attracted to Frannie, who hadn’t appeared to notice her at all.

Betsy finally approached Frannie one day when she found her studying.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Frannie looked up. “No, not at all.”

“Hey, weren’t you in my French class last quarter?”

“I don’t know. Did you have Garnier?”

“Yes! I thought you looked familiar. My name’s Betsy.”

“Frannie, nice to meet you.”

Betsy certainly noticed it was just about the same name.

“J’adore votre chemisier.”

“Sorry Betsy, but I’m afraid none of that course stayed in my head!”

“Sorry. I said I love your blouse.”

“Thank you. Your earrings are pretty cool.”

“Hey, um, when you’re done studying you want to go get a snack?”

“Sure. I’ll be about another half hour.”

Frannie didn’t want to seem antisocial, and Betsy had always been very nice to her, so she didn’t think this would compromise her idea not to say who she was.

They went to the snack counter in the Student Center and sat together and chatted. Betsy found her extremely cute. She couldn’t help herself and started to pour on the charm, and Frannie found herself giggling and responding. So when Betsy suggested going to a movie together she said yes.

This started a nice friendship, and Frannie started really looking forward to seeing Betsy. She found she was very attracted to her, in spite of her idea to keep her distance. She hadn’t given a lot of thought to her sexual orientation. Mostly she just wanted to stay away from men.

-o0o-

Betsy had her over to the apartment she shared with the next youngest sister, Renee, and started to ask about her.

“Where are you from, Frannie?”

“I used to live in Wisconsin, but my parents died in a car wreck, so I came here to live with my aunt,” she said, telling Betsy the story she and Gloria had cooked up several years before. (The story about Gloria’s brother being out of the country for years was eventually deemed too flimsy.)

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I ask how you got those scars?” she indicated Frannie’s arms.

“I really don’t like to think about that, Betsy,” she said, tearing up a little.

“I’m so sorry for asking,” Betsy said, and moved over to put an arm around Frannie, who leaned her head on Betsy’s shoulder.

“It was just a very hard time, and I’ve tried to put it behind me.”

Betsy pulled her a little closer, both suddenly felt their hearts pumping faster, and before they knew what had happened they found themselves kissing, their arms wrapped around each other.

When they eventually came up for air they pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now,” said Betsy.

Frannie blushed and smiled. She stared into Betsy’s eyes for a while, and then said, “You know who I am, don’t you.”

“Yes, I do. You’re little Fran, who stayed with us a few years back. We all felt terrible when you left, especially mom.”

“What?! I don’t understand. She never liked me.”

“During the time you were taking care of her, she realized she had treated you like crap, but she found it hard to stop, and then felt guilty about it. She had been mistreated by our father and other men, and projected that anger on to you. When we discovered you were gone she cried her eyes out.”

Frannie was just stunned to hear that. She put her head back down on Betsy’s shoulder.

Finally she said, “Well, it all turned out okay. You all could barely support yourselves; you didn’t need another mouth to feed. And I ended up meeting a wonderful lady who became my aunt and helped me become the person I am today. And you seem much better off than you were back then.”

“Oh yes, we managed to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and move away from that slum. I think, thanks to you, my mother became a changed woman. She stopped focusing on all that was wrong and changed her attitude. She has a job as an executive secretary and lives in a much nicer home.”

“I’m glad,” said Frannie.

-o0o-

Frannie still wasn’t sure about letting the rest of the Langleys know who she was, but if she and Betsy continued in their relationship, she realized they would inevitably find out. As they spent more and more time together she asked Betsy how her family would feel, knowing she was a lesbian.

“Oh, they’ve known for some time,” she smiled. “My sisters and I are all very close.”

“If I meet them how will they feel about me being TS?”

“Frannie, they all loved you when you stayed with us. And you were always in a dress anyway so we mostly thought of you as a girl. When I first saw you at college I wondered if it was you, and it took a while until I remembered you were supposed to be a boy! You always seemed like a girl to me.”

-o0o-

Gloria knew Frannie was seeing Betsy, and that Betsy was from the family who had taken her in, however briefly. She was very happy to see Frannie in a loving relationship.

-o0o-

The day came when Betsy wanted to introduce Frannie to her family. There was a birthday party for her mother, and all the daughters would be there. Frannie was very nervous, and clung to Betsy on the way up the front walk.

“Don’t be nervous, Baby. They will still love you.”

They entered the house. The family was sitting in the living room chatting. The talk stopped as the two came in. Betsy’s arm was around Frannie.

“Everyone? This is my girlfriend, Frannie, the love of my life.”

Rosie was the first to jump up and embrace Frannie very warmly.

“Welcome, Frannie!”

The other two girls said hello, but they didn’t remember Fran as well as the two oldest. The mother kept staring at her, making her very nervous.

Finally she said, her voice trembling, “Fran? Is it you?”

Frannie felt tears coming to her eyes. “Yes.” was all she said.

The mother rose and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Can you ever forgive me for treating you so terribly?” she said, crying now herself.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she replied.

The two younger girls were mystified at this, until Rosie whispered to them. Their eyes widened and they jumped up and joined the hug. The other two joined in and Frannie was at the center of a loving embrace. She was also the shortest one there, and felt warmly enveloped. Tears were streaming down her face.

“You’ve become a beautiful young lady,” said Mrs. Langley.

“Thank you, but all of you are much prettier than I am,” she said, trying to dry her tears.

They all sat back down, with Betsy and Frannie together, holding hands.

“What happened to you, Fran?” asked Lesley, the youngest.

“Frannie, please. A wonderful lady found me and adopted me as her niece, and I’ve been very happy with her.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to your louse of a father?”

“I really don’t spend any time thinking about that part of my past. It’s too dark and sad to spend any effort on. Him abandoning me was probably the nicest thing he ever did for me.”

The others tried in vain to imagine a scenario in which abandonment was the best option. They knew their mom had been hard to live with, but they still loved her.

The party moved into the dining room, where they had a meal and birthday cake. Mrs. Langley and Frannie had a moment alone in the kitchen. She asked, “Are you really okay with me, Frannie? I felt so awful when I drove you away.”

Frannie smiled at her. “Yes, I am. I didn’t hold it against you. And you didn’t need to try and provide for another person, as tight as things were. It all turned out well.”

Mrs. Langley gave her another hug. “Thank you, you loving child.”

-o0o-

When Betsy dropped her off at home that night she went in to talk to Gloria.

“Aunt Gloria, you’ll never guess what happened today.”

Gloria smiled at her niece and said, “You’re right. Tell me.”

“I went to a party at the home of Betsy’s family, where I stayed before I came to you. Mrs. Langley was overjoyed to see me. The woman I thought couldn’t stand me cried when she hugged me.”

“Well, well,” said Gloria. “Sounds as if she had a change of heart.”

“Yes, she seems much happier now. The girls were all very glad to see me, and it was great to see them again. They were so nice to me when I stayed with them.”

“Betsy must be getting more serious about your relationship if she wanted you to meet the family.”

Frannie blushed. “Yes, I really love her. I want to be with her all the time.”

“I’m happy for you, honey,” said Gloria, wrapping her arms around Frannie.

-o0o-

It was funny about good old Jim Holcomb, but not in a ha-ha way. A neighbor lady had seen him and Fran leave the house on the day they left for their so-called camping trip. The neighbor had noted that Jim had returned alone. From Fran’s mother she knew that Jim had mistreated the boy, and was suspicious that Fran hadn’t come back too. She reported her suspicions to the police. They checked with his school and discovered Fran had never returned.

When they went and questioned Jim he told them Fran had just run away while they were camping in the Upper Peninsula, in Michigan; he didn’t know why. That didn’t explain why he never reported his own son missing. Some of his teachers reported seeing a lot of bruising and scars on Fran. But, ultimately, there was no corpus delicti, so Jim wasn’t charged. Posters were put up about the missing child, but they were not even in the same state where Fran was abandoned, and nothing came of it.

Jim Holcomb continued drinking, and his house soon became a pigsty. He attempted to get a girlfriend, in order to have someone to do all his housework, but no one would touch him. Two years after he abandoned Fran he drunkenly drove his truck into a bridge abutment and died.

When he was reborn a few years later he was, you guessed it, a wimpy little fairy struggling with gender identity. He had a father exactly like the kind he had been to Fran. He felt very unfairly treated, but then, that’s karma.

The End.

Her Interest in the Gender Equation

It had been just three years since he graduated from college, and Charlie Daws was working a sales job. For all the use this made of his degree he may as well have skipped college and saved the money. On the job he was really just going through the motions. He still hung out near the university on his time off, and he ate his meals at a lot of the same places the students did. Sometimes he even spent time at the Student Union, not knowing what else to do with his time. Aside from his job he didn’t have a whole lot going on in his life, but he tried not to let this bother him, thinking something would come along, somehow, at some undetermined point.

He was completely unaware that he had been under scrutiny for a couple of months by Connie Green, also a graduate. She worked near the university, and noticed him one day when she had lunch at a diner there. She was just intrigued by his looks, which were not of the ruggedly handsome variety. He was more on the small and androgynous side, and she found that, well, interesting. She speculated on what he’d look like as a woman, how he might act, and oh-so-many other things. She began to keep an eye out for him.

To satisfy her curiosity Connie put her feminine wiles to work, and it was not long before Charlie succumbed and they became an item. He wasn’t that used to female attention, so it wasn’t that much of a challenge for Connie. She liked him, but was more interested in the gender equation. Soon after they met they moved in together. Once they had became intimate Connie playfully got him to wear her camisole, and then panties, then a bra. She fawned over the look and soon had him completely dressed as a woman, and made up. He looked pretty good, and decided he liked it. They went out together many times with him dressed, and Connie was enjoying the novelty.

Looking androgynous had not been his idea; he was just born that way. Dressed as a woman there could now be no doubt in peoples’ minds, so there was none of the hedging and tentative conversations he was used to having when people couldn’t tell what sex he was. That part he really liked.

He was enthusiastic enough about dressing that eventually he decided to live as a woman. He had fallen into the female role and mannerisms fairly quickly, and had always enjoyed the company of females more than males. Now he felt happier, and somehow more motivated, and believed he owed it all to Connie. He became extremely supportive of her, making her feel really loved and adored, and did all he could for her as thanks for bringing out this facet of him.

The downside was that, being happier and knowing she was loved and appreciated, made Connie more attractive for male attention—certainly more than she was used to getting—and she wasn’t exactly spurning it. She liked Charlie a lot, but she wasn’t really in love with him, so she didn’t feel very bad about relishing this attention.

Charlie, who was now going by Claire, could see what was happening, and was painfully aware that Connie was now treating him more as a girlfriend than as a lover.

Then Richard Markus came into Connie’s life. He was a big, rugged jock, with a good job, and had set his eye on Connie and decided she was going to be his. He turned on all his charm and wooed her, and it was working very well. He was aware of Claire in her life, since they lived together, and Connie had, unintentionally, let Richard know that Claire was her old boyfriend. When Richard came to their place, he treated Claire with thinly veiled contempt and disgust, especially when Connie was out of the room, but didn’t hold his tongue even when she was present. In the beginning she mildly told him not to talk to Claire that way, but then, when he failed to stop, she just seemed to ignore it, being spellbound by Richard’s questionable charms.

Claire was heartbroken that Connie actually liked this oaf, and didn’t even speak up for her. She could see how smitten Connie was, and realized that even if she were to point out exactly how huge a jerk Richard was being she wouldn’t listen to her. She applied for and found a job in the next city over. On moving day she gave Connie a hug, whispered, “Thanks for everything,” and disappeared from her life. Connie seemed more bemused than surprised. This left Claire to wonder how Connie must have seen her. As a joke? An experiment? As a girl friend? Did she think Claire no longer liked women? The most likely conclusion seemed to be that Connie just totally lost interest in Claire.

-o0o-

Richard proposed and Connie accepted, looking forward to a happy and fulfilling life. But after the so-called honeymoon phase the shine wore off a little too quickly for her tastes. She found that he didn’t support her hopes, dreams, aspirations, in any way (as Claire had), and in fact seemed to look down on women in general. It was rather a rude shock. In the bedroom, no matter what, she didn’t get pregnant. Richard wanted children, but wouldn’t even consider the fault might be his. He wouldn’t consent to any medical tests, instead just putting all the blame on Connie. Connie did get herself tested and there was nothing amiss in her anatomy, but she didn’t dare tell him. Richard was very controlling, and also didn’t want her working, so she was a housewife with not much to do. She went to the gym and did some volunteer work, but didn’t find herself at all fulfilled.

Things dragged along in this way for close to nine years. She kept thinking it would get better, thanks to short periods where he would be nice to her again, but the two argued more and more. She became aware that he had been seeing other women. Finally one day, during an argument, he hit her. That was the last straw for her, and she left him. She couldn’t believe she’d stuck with him for so long. She had almost no friends, no one she could turn to, so she went to a women’s shelter.

Richard was good friends with a high-priced lawyer, a fraternity brother, in fact, and it was he who instituted divorce proceedings. Connie had no real access to money—naturally everything was in Richard’s name—and was really screwed in the divorce, which took place in a court in which the judge was a friend of the lawyer. Connie was left with the absolute minimum they could get away with. It was somehow arranged that the alimony payment would be hardly enough to live on.

Connie found a barely acceptable apartment in the next town over, and a menial job as a call center agent, making cold calls to people who don’t want to hear from anyone in sales. She was barely able to keep her head above water.

-o0o-

In her new position Claire excelled, doing far better than Charlie could ever have dreamed. She rose fairly quickly through the ranks and became an executive after only a few years. She had changed her last name to Downey, to put some distance between her and her old identity, and was enjoying her career. She had implants and a bit of facial surgery and really didn’t look anything like she used to. She was lonely but accepted that as part of her lot in life.

One day at lunchtime she went to a popular but cheap cafeteria-style diner and had to wait in line. She was about to give up, but to her shock she recognized that the woman ahead of her in line was Connie. She knew she looked different, and decided to make small talk to see if Connie recognized her, and it was obvious Connie had no idea. But they kind of clicked, and liked each other. She observed Connie looked rather downtrodden, and offered to share her table when they finally got their food.

Once they were seated they shared first names. Claire said, “Connie, I can see you’re troubled. Why don’t you tell me about it? Maybe I can help, or maybe just talking about it will make you feel better.”

“Oh, Claire, I don’t see how. I got myself into this mess by being stupid. I got married about ten years ago. He seemed like a nice guy, but not long after the honeymoon he showed his true colors. He treated me lousy, wouldn’t let me get a job. ‘No wife of mine is going to work!’ Pah! And he wanted kids, but I never got pregnant. It was his fault, but I didn’t bother telling him; he would only have denied it.

“Eventually, after several years, I realized he was cheating on me. I was hurt, but since he was being such a gigantic jerk I didn’t feel that terrible about it. We argued all the time, and finally he hit me. Well, that was it, and I walked out. He was friends with his divorce lawyer and I got shafted big time and left with almost nothing. I just can’t believe I stuck with him for so long.”

Claire, who had her own opinions on the matter, kept them to herself.

“Now I live in a crappy apartment and work at a call center, making calls no one wants to receive.”

“Connie, is there no one else you can turn to for help? What about your family?”

“My parents both died just as I finished college. I have an older sister, but she and I don’t get along and she lives clear across the country.”

Claire hadn’t known any of that when they were together. It reinforced to her what sort of pathetic relationship they must have had. “I’m sorry to hear that. What about friends?”

“With my control-freak husband I really didn’t have any friends. Before I was married there was a guy I really liked. I’m sorry to say I treated him so poorly I’d be ashamed to contact him again, and in any case I have no idea where he is.”

Claire mulled things over in her mind. Should she tell Connie who she is, or just let it be? In the meantime, maybe she could help Connie out of this hole she was in.

“I may know of a job that would be a big improvement on a call-center job. If you’re interested I can look into it.”

“Why would you want to help me? We don’t even know each other.”

“I can see you are in a tough situation, and you seem like a nice person. If I can help, why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, then sure. Thank you. It can’t be any worse than the job I have now.”

Claire got Connie’s contact information and told her she’ll let her know. She gave Connie her business card.

As they parted Connie had no expectations that this would go anywhere, and, really, why would this kind stranger help her anyway?

-o0o-

Claire returned to her office and ultimately decided it would be better—and safer—to just remain a distant friend rather than reveal her identity. No sense in being burned twice. She followed through with the job opportunity, though, and Connie did get it. Her standard of living immediately went up a few notches, with her finding a much more acceptable apartment, a better diet and some clothes.

She was very grateful to Claire, and once established in the new job tried to keep in touch. Claire didn’t really want to get involved with her, but allowed her to treat her to lunch as a thank you. They had a nicer time than Claire expected, and Connie was much happier, reminding Claire of how she behaved when they first met long ago. And then once a month they began to meet for lunch. Claire was always encouraging and supportive, just as she was years ago. More than once Connie called her at the office for some advice, since she had been kept from so much reality-based everyday living during her marriage.

-o0o-

Six months on they were due for a lunch. They always met at the same place and time, so Connie was surprised when Claire didn’t show. This was definitely unlike her. She called Claire’s work number,

“Hello. I’m trying to reach Claire Downey.”

“I’m sorry, but she isn’t in the office now.”

“Yes, we were to meet for lunch, but she hasn’t showed up. I’m worried.”

“Well, all I can tell you is that Ms. Downey hasn’t been in for three days.”

“Is she alright?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say anything further.”

Connie didn’t know Claire’s address or personal phone number. Grasping at straws she made calls to the three hospitals in town, and found Claire was a patient in one of them. She went to pay a visit and found Claire was having a serious health crisis. The worst of it was over, but she was very weak. Connie told Claire she would come and take her home when she’s released, which is better than what Claire had planned—a taxi. Still, Claire tried to talk her out of it, to no avail.

When she was released two days later, Connie did come and take her home. She helped her inside and then into her bed. Claire was exhausted just from the ride home.

As Connie was bustling around, getting things that Claire would need, she noticed a necklace on the dresser that she recognized. It’s one she had given to her Claire ten years ago. She stopped to think, and it finally hit her that this has to be the same person. She stood there in shock. She couldn’t believe how nice Claire had been to her after how she had treated her, and felt very guilty. She turned to Claire, on the bed.

“Claire?” she said very softly.

“Yes, Connie?”

“I just found the necklace I gave you ten years ago on your dresser. I know who you are. How can I ever apologize enough for the way I treated you?”

Claire sighed to herself and said, “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge. I survived and I’m fine.”

“But aren’t you lonely?”

“I have plenty to do to keep myself busy,” she said.

But Connie wasn’t fooled.

“I’m going to stay here and take care of you until you’re well enough to be on your own,” she said.

Claire started to protest, but didn’t have any energy to waste arguing. So Connie did just that; she stayed and cared for Claire lovingly, and was very solicitous, trying to make up for her behavior years ago.

When Claire was just about well enough to be on her own, Connie came to her bed one night, and just slept with her, something no one had done since the early days. She held Claire from behind and didn’t see the silent tears that soaked her pillow.

-o0o-

In the morning Claire thanked Connie for staying with her in the night, but thought to herself that Connie really wanted a man. She didn’t want to say it like that, so she said,

“I’m sorry, Connie, but I’m really not looking for a relationship. And please don’t feel guilty about me. I never blamed you, and you gave me a great gift by helping reveal this part of me. You are still young and attractive enough to find love again. I strongly urge you to put yourself out there.”

Connie didn’t really want to. She still felt guilty, not the best basis for a relationship. But she did eventually allow herself to put herself on the market. And in a relatively short time (after dating a couple of losers) she did find a guy she liked, and he was even actually a nice guy! She became very invested in him and she and Claire drifted apart to their former status.

Claire was happy for her, and went back to her lonely life.

-o0o-

Connie hadn’t forgotten about Claire though. As the weeks passed she racked her brain for a person who would be good for Claire. Finally she remembered a woman she knew before her marriage, Linda, whom she thought would be perfect for Claire. She happened to remember that Linda confessed she liked feminine men. She contacted Linda and found she was still single. But she had to cleverly engineer a “natural” meeting between her and Claire. She decided it would be best if she herself introduced them. Claire was in the habit of dining out one night a week, on her own, and Connie took Linda to that restaurant and “happened” to run into Claire. She introduced them and they all ate together. It looked to Connie as if the two liked each other. But Connie also guessed that Claire would probably avoid a deeper relationship, being afraid of the consequences when Linda found out her true physical nature.

At their lunch a month later, Connie discovered that Claire and Linda had taken a shine to each other and gone out several times; they were already good friends.

“I like her company, Connie, but I’m afraid of how she might react if she found out I’m not one-hundred-percent female.”

Connie paused, as if thinking, and then said, “You know, I’ve known Linda for many years, and now that I think of it I’m pretty sure she once told me she’s really into feminine men. I don’t know for sure if she meant men living as women, but it might be worth it to tell her.”

“But what if it turns out she does NOT mean men living as women? If I leave things as they are, at least I’ll still have a friend.”

“Claire, you’re a wonderful, kind person—I know this better than most—and you deserve love in your life too. If she turns on you, you might not want to have been friends with someone like that anyway.”

-o0o-

Claire thought about it for a week, then gritted her teeth and decided that, okay, she would tell Linda. Hmm. If she does it in public and there’s a scene, that would be bad. If she did it in her own home she’s pretty sure Linda isn’t going to try and beat her up, like a man might. Still… What if it’s at Linda’s place? Hmm. Then she can just get up and leave if things go wrong. Okay, that sounds like the best alternative.

In the next few weeks Linda invited her over for a meal. Afterwards they sat in the living room and she said, “Linda, I have something very important to tell you, and… this is very hard for me.” She pauses. “I really like you, but when I tell you this, you may hate me.”

Linda tensed up, didn’t know what to make of this, but said, “Well, okay. You obviously need to tell me, so, I’m listening.”

“I am physically male.”

There was silence.

“Really?” said Linda, in a happy way that caused Claire to look up at her. She nodded.

“Yes, I am. I’ve been living as a woman for more than ten years.”

Linda thought that was GREAT! She launched herself at Claire and hugged her and gave her a huge kiss, shocking Claire.

“I’ve been feeling very attracted to you, though I’m not attracted to women. This explains a lot! I’m so happy!”

Claire could hardly believe this turn of events. She had been alone for so long. She broke down crying in Linda’s arms.

The next day she sent a single word text to Connie: THANKS!

The End.

.

I could sit on this and keep editing it daily until the cows come home, but as I have no cows it could quite some time before it got posted.

They were at Garrett’s place, sitting together on the sofa. His arm was around her, her head was resting on his shoulder, and she was happy with it there. They were content and comfortable together. Sherry thought she had hit upon a safe way to gauge Garrett’s attitudes by inventing a trans friend.

“There’s this woman I work with, um, Kate. She’s really nice, and the two of us and two other women went out to lunch today, and during the lunch she ended up telling us she was a transwoman. It didn’t make any difference to me, but one of the other women flipped out and left.” She got this all out almost in one breath, nervous, but happy to have started the process.

“Whoa. That would be pretty surprising, to find out someone wasn’t who you thought they were.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Is that true? She is the same person. She just started out with different plumbing. I don’t see what difference it makes.”

“But is she the same person? I mean, she’s been lying to you all this time.”

This wasn’t quite the reaction Sherry had been expecting. “I don’t see it that way. What is she lying about?”

“You know… who she is – a male acting like a female.”

“Oh boy, do you not know much about gender! There are studies showing that brain chemistry is different in men than in women. If a woman is born in a man’s body, her brain chemistry will show that, and many times she’ll feel terrible until she can either present as a woman, or get her plumbing fixed.”

“Hold on. How can a woman be born in a man’s body?”

“Because she has a female brain chemistry. This isn’t just opinion; it’s been scientifically established.”

“That’s just so weird,” Garrett said, making an odd face.

“You say that because your body and brain match. Imagine if they didn’t. You’d be unhappy.”

“Sorry, I, I can’t even conceive of such a thing. Why are you bringing this up, anyway?”

“I just thought it was interesting, but I’m also sad that someone I know was so judgmental and intolerant of her, only because of a condition she no longer suffers from. I don’t think she has done anything to merit that kind of treatment.”

“I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this. I mean, what would happen if a guy fell in love with one of them, and then found out it was really a guy?”

“They are not an It, Garrett. Anyway, you’re missing the point. She isn’t really a guy; she’s a woman who started out as a guy.”

“I don’t know… it would make the man feel like he was gay. He’d almost have to think of her as a guy once he knew.”

“Why would he almost have to think that?” she asked, in a tone Garrett should have been paying closer attention to.

“Um, because once he knew he would never be able to get it out of his head.”

“I see. And I take it that feeling gay is a bad thing?”

“Well, um, no hetero guy wants to be thought of as gay. It’s a stigma.”

“So is it impossible for you to see that it’s just two people in love? And that one of them had a birth defect?”

“Uh. Well, maybe? I don’t think I could do it.”

Her heart fell. She tried a different tack, a bit heatedly. “Would it be the same if the woman, say, was born without a uterus? Or had undergone a hysterectomy?”

“No, not at all,” he said, somewhat taken aback. This discussion had become more serious.

“Why not? That’s also just a plumbing issue.”

“It doesn’t seem the same.”

“To me it sounds like you think the man is only in love with the woman’s body, and not the actual person. Garrett, do you have any empathy at all for someone in that position? Someone who is uncomfortable as hell pretending to be a man, and so takes steps to rectify it?”

“Well, maybe it’s okay if it’s not someone I’m involved with.”

She looked at him with disappointment for a long time. He seemed oblivious as to the effect he was having on her.

“I have to go, Garrett,” she said, getting to her feet. “There are a couple things at home I don’t think I can put off any longer.”

“I thought we were going to dinner tonight.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“I wish I could change your mind about that, Babe,” he said, trying to grab her waist.

“Sorry. I have to do this tonight, or I’ll regret it.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, letting go.

She walked out, feeling very forlorn. At the same time she was glad she had brought the issue up in this oblique way. She knew now, without exposing herself to possible violence, that he was not the man for her.

-o0o-

During the next several days each time Garrett tried to make plans to meet she came up with an excuse. By the time the weekend rolled around he started to think she was avoiding him. He never appeared to connect her change in attitude to the conversation they had about the fictional transwoman.

He phoned her on Sunday. “Sherry, you’ve been avoiding me. Are you… breaking up with me?” He heard a little sniffling on her end.

“Yes, Garrett, I am.”

“But why?” he asked, completely in the dark.

“I don’t want you to have to have to suffer ‘the stigma of feeling gay.’”

There was a silence while he tried to figure out what she meant. Finally the light bulb went on.

“Wait… What? Are you saying… are you saying you are a guy?”

She sighed. “No, I’m saying I am a transwoman, and you said that a relationship between a transwoman and a man would be okay as long as the man was not you. Hence I’m breaking it off to spare you.”

There was silence from Garrett’s end as he tried to process this. “But– but you can’t be a guy!”

“Garrett, please listen to what I’m saying. I am NOT a guy. When I was young I did pretend to be one, but it made me so sad I almost killed myself. Then I got things fixed and I gradually became the person you fell in love with. I don’t want you to have to suffer by being with an ex-guy. Thank you for our time together; I cherished it.” And she ended the call before she started to cry.

-o0o-

Garrett sat there with his mouth open for a long time. He’d been in love with a guy! He didn’t know what to do with that information.

Over the next week he couldn’t stop thinking about this. Sometimes he would be angry. Then he would remember how much he loved her and how well they got along. He couldn’t reconcile in his mind that she used to be a man. She seemed nothing like a man. And not just her body; she didn’t appear to think like a man either. It was very difficult for him to process this, and he couldn’t decide whether to be angry about being deceived or not.

The next Sunday he was at a get-together with some of his buddies at one of their houses, and he asked what they thought about transwomen. The opinions varied, with some dead set against ‘men trying to pass themselves off as women,’ to one guy, Stefan who said there was nothing wrong with it, and that they weren’t ‘passing themselves off’ as women, but were women, the same as Sherry had told him. Garrett wanted to speak more with him about this, and the two went outside to talk.

Popping open his beer, Garrett asked, “So why are you so cool with this trans thing?”

“Someone close to me is trans. She had a brutal time of it, almost got killed by some guy who didn’t think she had the right to be herself. And she hadn’t even been coming on to him! He just seemed to think that her existence was wrong, so she deserved a beating. I happened to arrive at the scene before he could actually finish her off, and got her to the hospital. We got to know each other, and she told me her story. It takes a lot of courage to do what she was doing, to actually make the changes in order to live in a way that made her comfortable. She wasn’t hurting anyone—knowing her as I do I can’t even imagine her thinking about hurting anyone.”

“That’s pretty heavy, dude.”

“It’s not an easy path, Garrett. She hated herself growing up, couldn’t stand being a boy. She said that once she started expressing herself as female she became like a new person. She’s a good friend now.”

“So you don’t see her as a guy at all?” Garrett asked.

“No. Yeah, there are telltale signs in her bone structure, but that’s just physical stuff. Physical sex and gender are two different things. The physical sex of your body may have nothing to do with your gender.”

“It sounds crazy.”

“You probably think that since your sex and gender apparently match.”

“Huh. She said the same…” Garrett said, almost to himself.

“Who said the same thing?”

“Oh, no one.”

“No one, eh?” Stefan put a sympathetic hand on Garrett’s shoulder, easily understanding the situation. “Garrett, do you love her?”

Garrett looked up at him, conflicted. “I thought I did, but now I’m having trouble seeing her as a her.”

“Did she tell you she was trans?”

“Not in so many words, but she did make it clear.”

“And before that, did you have any reason to doubt she was a woman?”

“No, not one.”

Stefan was experienced, and he had heard stories like this before. He said, “But because she was honest with you and didn’t want to lie about her past, you now reject her?”

“It’s not as simple as that. I was in love with her, and she turned out to be a guy!”

“So,” Stefan sighed, “nothing I just told you penetrated. She is not a guy. Even if she has all the parts that would make her a guy, if she’s trans, she is not a guy! You have to look past the physical, Garrett. Who did you love? Her or only her body? Better take some time and think about it; you could be missing out on the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do that, thanks. Listen, I’ll see you around.”

He had so much on his mind that he left and went home.

-o0o-

Garrett knew that trans people existed, but he never expected to meet one, let alone fall in love with one. It made him a little angry, to be put in this position of having to choose. He didn’t want anyone to think he was gay, but he did miss Sherry. On the other hand, there was just nothing about her that showed she had ever been a guy. If he didn’t know, why would anyone else? That kind of made it better. But could he get past his own perceptions now that he knew? Would it have been better if she had never told him?

He impulsively phoned her. To his surprise she answered the call and he blurted out the first thing on his mind.

“Sherry, why didn’t you let me know about this earlier?”

“Oh Garrett, this must be so hard for you to understand. People in my situation don’t usually announce to the world that they’re trans, and especially not in the current political climate. You wouldn’t believe how many people feel it is their right to abuse a trans person simply because he or she is trans. Once I felt things between us were getting serious I thought you deserved to know. I also thought it might help you understand why my family disowned me, and why I have no pictures of myself when I was young.”

“Oh. I thought they just lived far away from here, and that you had some horrible skin condition or something like that.”

“No, they decided they couldn’t accept me as I am, the true me. They turned their backs on me. I had no skin condition; it was simply a very difficult and sad time for me, and so I left all of that stuff behind.”

Garrett fell silent. For one thing he had always enjoyed the sound of her voice, and it was making him nostalgic. But now, realizing she was very much alone he felt bad for her. “I’m sorry to know that. I talked to my friend, Stefan. He knows someone like you and he tried to explain things to me, but I’m still having trouble with the fact that you used to be a guy.”

“Oh Garrett… just… let it go. You don’t have to change yourself for my sake,” she said, her heart aching. “Find someone else to love. You’re a great guy and many girls would be happy to be with you.”

“I… I fell in love with you, though.”

“Yes, but remember, I used to be a GUY.”

“Well,” he started, a little frustrated, “how am I going to know the next girl isn’t also trans?!”

“Maybe she will be; I certainly don’t know. But if you’re going to base your love on the next girl’s body instead of who she is, then you might be disappointed even if she’s a genetic girl. Sorry, Garrett, but you’re just going to have to work this out.” She paused. “Be well,” she said softly, and ended the call.

He looked at the phone and then put it down. This whole thing was more complicated than he thought he was capable of handling.

-o0o-

It was nice to hear Garrett’s voice, but it made Sherry sad all over again, and she had a little cry. She had never thought of him as particularly dense, but he sure couldn’t get his head around the whole concept of gender. It did kind of sound like he was trying to understand, if he talked to his friend. She didn’t hold out any hope for a renewed relationship though.

She had been depressed but resigned since she broke up with Garrett, wondering if this issue was going to be a deal breaker in every relationship she had. That was a depressing thought. She found herself wondering if transwomen who looked more obviously like men had this problem. If there was no doubt about who they used to be, it seemed like right away that would eliminate a whole class of people from getting involved. But since she passed so well she would always have to end up disclosing her history. She sighed. Damned two-edged swords!

-o0o-

At her next lunch meeting with two friends, also trans, she told them what happened with her and Garrett.

“Sorry to hear that, honey,” Kim said. “The same thing happened to me, but I didn’t have that great idea to invent a trans friend like you did. He did not take it well.”

“And I haven’t dated at all since my transition,” Joyce said.

“Well, we’re a fine bunch of—I don’t know what to call us!” Sherry growled.

“Try ‘women!’” Kim said.

Sherry smiled at that, and then the smile left her face. “I just keep thinking this is going to come up in any serious relationship, and it’s so hard to deal with.”

“True, but you can’t let it stop you from trying to move forward.”

Sherry looked down at the well-stirred drink she was still stirring. “I just wish it had worked out with Garrett; I really liked him.”

-o0o-

Garrett was not able to let the matter go. He kept trying to think of some solution, because he really did love Sherry. But short of being hypnotized into not caring about her past, he couldn’t see a way. He brooded about it, and he felt unable to try and start a new relationship while this was still going on in his head. He took himself over to Stefan’s apartment to speak with him again.

“I just don’t know how to forget about her physical past, Stefan. I want to be with her, but I can’t forget she was a guy. Why doesn’t this kind of thing matter to you?”

“Let me tell you once again, Garrett: I try and know the person, not the package they are wrapped in.” He looked at Garrett and tried to gauge some way to approach this that Garrett could grasp. “Tell me, umm, what would happen if you were married to a wonderful woman, and she was in an accident that left her disfigured and, say, a quadriplegic. Would you stop loving her?”

“I’d like to think I wouldn’t.”

Stefan nodded. “And why would you continue to love her?”

“Well, like, she’s my wife, and we love each other! I would want to be there for her.”

Stefan waited for him to realize what he was saying, but Garrett didn’t add anything further. “So you would take care of her and love her in spite of what she looked like, and in spite of the fact that she could do nothing for herself.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’d love her unconditionally, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’d do anything for her.”

“Well, yeah.” Garrett was about to say “duh,” but stopped himself.

“How is it that you’re able to look past the accident and subsequent injuries, but not the small matter of who this woman of yours had been before she met you? You’d be willing to go to such lengths for her only if she had been born in a female body?”

“Well, um…” Garrett reddened in embarrassment.

“Yeah, it would make you look pretty shallow. What if you had been married to this woman of yours for fifty years, and you loved each other all that time, and then, on your fiftieth anniversary, she told you she had started out as a boy? Would that negate the fifty yours you spent loving her?”

Garrett was silent, trying to imagine what that would be like. “It would be a shock…”

“Would you leave her because she had never admitted it before? Even though you had spent all those years loving her?”

“I don’t KNOW!” Garrett burst out. “It’s hard to put myself in that position.”

“All right, okay. What if, um, your friend had instead told you that she had, I don’t know, a criminal record for shoplifting before she met you? Would that be a deal breaker?”

“Well, no. I mean, by now she would have paid for her crime.”

Stefan let a few moments go by. “Isn’t this more or less the same thing? Her crime, if you want to call it that, was being born in the wrong body. She paid for it by putting up with the pain of that, and then getting her body fixed. It’s in the past.” He looked steadily at Garrett. “You don’t really want to try and make her pay for it again, do you?” he asked gently.

Garrett looked down. “No, I don’t,” he said softly. Then his brain started to assemble the information into a simple equation it was impossible for him to miss. The answer truly shocked him. “Oh my god! No, of course I don’t want to make her pay for it again! Man, I’ve really made a mess of this. She is not a guy anymore. She doesn’t look like one or act like one.”

“And it doesn’t make you gay to love her.”

“No.”

Stefan put his hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “See? I knew you weren’t as stupid as you were acting!”

Garrett half-grinned at him. “I really was stupid, though. It was just too weird or just… difficult for me to come to terms with. Thanks for getting through to me.”

“You’re welcome. Do you think she’ll take you back?”

“I really dunno, Stefan. I guess I didn’t treat her very well. But I will try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

-o0o-

Sherry was very reluctant to try and find a new relationship. The last thing she wanted to do was to go through telling someone again about how she was mislabeled at birth. It had been weeks since the breakup and she was still hurting. Her days consisted of work and then mindless evening entertainment in front of the TV, most of which she wasn’t paying attention to.

She didn’t get many visitors, so it was a surprise when the doorbell rang. Going to the door she saw it was a delivery of some kind. When she opened the door the man handed her a big spray of flowers, smiled and wished her a good day.

Flowers? From whom? She looked the arrangement over and found the card. She brought the flowers into her kitchen, cut the stems and put them in water in a vase, and then turned her attention to the card.

For the most beautiful and amazing woman I have ever met.

Love,
Garrett

Her heart leapt. Had he really and truly been able to overcome his prejudice? A smile forced itself onto her face and refused to come off. She took a deep whiff of the flowers. They smelled heavenly. And it was the first time anyone had ever sent her flowers.

She picked up her phone and called Garrett. He answered on the first ring.

“Garrett, is there something you want to tell me?”

“I guess you must have gotten the flowers.”

“Yes, thank you. I got them and they are gorgeous.”

“I was wondering if you could find it in your heart to forgive me and take me back.”

“But are you sure, Garrett? I don’t want this issue to come between us again.”

“I’m as sure as I can be. Stefan talked some sense into me, and I have to apologize for how I treated you. It just took me a long time to really understand what I was saying and how I felt.”

“Oooo kay. I don’t want to put you off, but I think maybe we should have a trial period, to see if you are really over this thing about perceptions of gender. And Garrett, this is really more for you than for me. If you start feeling like you’re dating a guy, we wouldn’t want to continue, would we?”

“That is not going to happen Sherry. I still love you, and I will do anything you suggest to make this work.”

“That sounds very nice,” she said, smiling. “What do you say we have dinner together tonight?”

“The first of many, many dinners, I hope. I’m on my way.”

The End.

Many thanks to Angela Rasch.

Late December

There’s a problem with my teenaged son, Edward. I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just say it: He… well, he minces around like a fairy—sometimes you’d swear you were seeing a girl—even though I’ve spoken to him time and again about it. God knows I’ve tried over the years to bring out his manliness, but he just doesn’t seem to have any. He’s short for his age, and I’ve carried groceries that weigh more than he does. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked to him about getting a haircut, and I don’t know why, but that’s something I can’t bring myself to force him to do. Maybe it’s because he looks so much like my late wife. And if I’m honest with myself, when I was his age I had long hair too.

I’ve taken him to ballgames, and we’ve fished together…we tried bowling but that was a disaster. The ball was just too heavy for him. Look, I can tell he’s making an effort, but I can also tell his heart isn’t in it. For a while I tried harder, making him exercise, join sports teams at school—whatever I could think of, and it just didn’t work. At the least I want him to build a little muscle so he can defend himself WHEN—not if—he gets picked on. I really don’t know what to do about him.

And then a few days ago he actually told me he was a girl! Can you believe it? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given the rest of his behavior, but I really got angry at that point, and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was definitely not a girl. Girls do not have peckers in their pants! And what did he do? He cried!

He told me he didn’t like it, and would be happy if it was removed. I was having trouble believing my ears when he said that. What kind of boy wants his pecker gone? It was just beyond my understanding. I sent him to his room and sat down at the kitchen table, my head spinning. There mere thought almost made me ill.

Listen, I’ve tried hard to do the best I can as a single dad. It’s been very difficult since my wife, Marcia, got sick and died, five years ago. He was only ten then, but I knew the two of them were very close. I thought it wouldn’t be all that difficult to raise a boy, but he’s not like any other boy I have ever known. When Marcia died he just collapsed into a quivering mess and cried for weeks, and no amount of yelling at him that boys don’t cry would snap him out of it.

Today, for whatever reason, he seemed very depressed. I asked him what the problem was and he wouldn’t tell me. And then this evening we ended up in yet another argument about him manning up. I ran out of patience and I’m sorry to say I belted him one. Not too hard, since I know it would just be too easy to accidentally break him in half, and really, I don’t want to hurt him. No, I hit him just enough to make a point. Then I left for Harvey’s Bar to cool off and drown my sorrows and disappointment. I’m not a big drinker, but I like a beer now and then, just like every other guy.

When I arrived at the bar I sat in the car for a minute, trying to, I don’t know, center myself. You know, took a few deep breaths. Then, walking into the dark, slightly beery atmosphere, I noticed my old buddy, Rick, was there, alone in a booth. We don’t live that far apart, but it had been a couple of years since we’d last run into each other.

“Hey Rick! Long time no see! Mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at me bleary-eyed, and it really looked like he’d been crying. Rick crying? How drunk was he? Anyhow, he didn’t object, so I went over to the bar and got a beer and then sat down across from him.

“What’s the problem, buddy? You look terrible.”

He looked at me for a long time before answering, in a dead, unemotional voice.

“My kid killed himself.”

I was stunned. Rick’s son, Matthew, was around Eddie’s age—in fact I think the two of them are friends—and seemed like a happy enough kid, though I admit it’s been a few years since I’d seen him.

Oh! Maybe that’s why Eddie was depressed today. Well… why couldn’t he have told me that?!

“What happened?”

He swished his beer around a bit before answering. “You’re not going to believe this, Mike, but he thought he was a girl.”

That totally startled me. Oh man! What were the odds that both of us had a son with this weird problem?

Continuing, he said, “I did everything I could to persuade him that wasn’t true, but he kept on insisting. He had a girl’s name picked out for himself, and he’d even collected girls’ clothes! I told him that was unacceptable and threw them away. Finally, a couple days ago we had another argument and I, I tried to beat it out of him.”

There was a silence before he went on.

“Yesterday I went looking for him, and he wouldn’t answer. I thought he was being stubborn, but I… found him hanging by a rope from an attic rafter.” Rick paused and choked out a sob. “He…she left a suicide note saying that me not allowing her to express her true self was slowly killing her, and that she’d rather just die than continue to try and live a lie this way.”

Looking at Rick’s almost-full mug, I realized Rick wasn’t actually drunk at all; he was in real pain.

“I loved my kid, Mike, and I can’t say I understand it, but if I had it to do over again I’d let him be the girl that he thought he was,” he said, almost completely breaking down. “Now it doesn’t seem like it would be such a big deal. But I no longer have that option. I let my pigheadedness rise above my acceptance of my own child, and I’ll have to live with that the rest of my life.”

We sat there in silence, as I examined my own feelings. I felt terrible for Rick. What would I do if Eddie killed himself? I would be truly devastated. He was all I had left, and all I had left of Marcia, too. Was I more concerned about how others would see him, or was I more interested in how I thought of him? Less than a man. A fairy. What if he liked men? Would me condemning that sort of thing be worth his life?

Now that I thought it through, I always knew he didn’t like to do all those manly things I made him do. He was trying to do them because of his love for me. And how did I repay that love? By trying to force him into my idea of what a man should be. Self-disgust suddenly overwhelmed me.

Then a feeling rose up in me that I would try and be a better man—a better father than that. I didn’t want to lose my son… or my daughter, if that’s who she really was. So right then and there I made a New Year’s resolution to accept my child, whoever he or she was.

Once that resolution was made I found that I actually felt much better. I turned my attention back to Rick and tried to give what solace I could, but I could see he was really suffering, and I’m not sure I was reaching him. Guilt is such a heavy load. I really didn’t think he needed to hear about my own problems right now. And I don’t think he was there to drink as much as to have a place to be alone with his sorrows. I got up and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m truly sorry about Matthew, Rick, and I wish I knew what to say. I feel like I need to go check on Eddie now.”

He nodded to me and went back to sipping his beer.

I don’t know why, but I felt a real urgency to get home to show my daughter that I would be there for her. If Eddie needed to be a girl, I would let him or her know I would help however I could.

During the drive I tried to think of ways I could show my support, and it was difficult to do. I had no sisters, and I had no experience raising a girl. “Marcia!! I really need you now!” I said out loud. She would have known what to do to help Eddie. “Why’d you have to die?” I was tearing up. Me, the big manly man!

As I pulled into the drive I was surprised no lights were on. Eddie hadn’t said anything about going out. Maybe he was in the den watching TV. I could never get him to turn on the light while he was doing that.

Entering the house I turned on a couple lights. It was almost uncannily silent inside. I started to look for him. Nope, not in the den. He must be upstairs in his bedroom. Climbing the stairs I saw his door was closed. I knocked gently. No answer. I hoped he wasn’t still mad at me.

“Eddie?”

No answer.

I was starting to get a bad feeling about this. I opened the door, but it was too dark to see anything. Flipping on the light I saw a good-looking girl in a blue dress lying on his bed, very pale and still as a statue. Stepping closer to the bed, I started to speak. “Who are…” and the words died on my lips as I realized the girl was Eddie. My eyes flashed to the nightstand, where there was a glass and an empty prescription bottle of pills.

“NO!!!” I yelled.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 as I felt for a pulse.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My, um, daughter seems like a possible suicide,” I spit out rapidly. “She took a bunch of pills and is very pale. There’s only a faint pulse. I need help RIGHT NOW!”

“I show your location as 837 Oak boulevard, sir. An ambulance is on the way. Please put the victim on her side. Do you know what the pills were?”

I snatched the pill bottle from the nightstand.

“It says amitriptyline.” Where the hell could he have gotten that? The part of the label that says who it had been prescribed for had been torn off.

“Should I try and make her vomit?”

“No sir, that could cause problems with her airway. Just wait for the ambulance.”

There was still hope, but I was frantic, not knowing what I could do to help, other than making sure he—dammit—she was breathing, and rolling her onto her side. Once I did that I ran downstairs, trying not to trip and break my neck. I flung open the front door and then ran back upstairs. What was taking the ambulance so long??

There was a folded note next to her on the bed, addressed to “Mr. Miller.” That almost hit me harder than finding her—that my own kid didn’t feel she could call me Dad anymore. God, it was like being punched in the stomach. I sat on the bed with him—her, and read the note.

“Mr. Miller,
I can no longer live with your rules about my gender. I’m not sure what sort of person would put their own happiness above that of their child’s, but I don’t think a loving father would.

I’m sorry I can’t live up to your expectations of what you think a son should be, but that’s because I’m not a son, never have been, but a daughter. My name is Eva, and my last request is that you put that name on my gravestone. I would hate to go through eternity with the wrong name.

Now that my girl friend, Madeline, is dead, I have no one to support me at all, and I just don’t think I can make it on my own. So I am taking this way out.

I’m looking forward to seeing Mom again. She knew and loved the real me.

Eva Miller”

Tears came to my eyes as I was reading this. I had no idea things were this bad. And who was this girlfriend, Madeline? Eddie never brought any girls home.

Wait! She was dead. Could this possibly be Rick’s son/daughter, Matthew?

God, I had so much to make up for!

At last I could hear the siren, and it was close.

In no time the EMTs had made it inside. I called to them, “Upstairs! Hurry!!” And they rushed up and got right to work on… Eva, my daughter.

They shooed me out of the way, and stabilized her.

I rode in the ambulance with her, and it was nightmarish and clinical at the same time. It was bright inside, there were all kinds of medical machinery, and she just lay there, with one of the EMTs monitoring her.

Things happened in a hurry at the hospital. They took her away and a nurse pulled me over to a desk, where I had to give all the medical information and insurance info. I wanted to be there at Eva’s side!

And when she finally woke up, I was there by her bedside, holding her hand. When her eyes opened she looked straight ahead, blankly, then a look of extreme disappointment and pain replaced the blank expression. She must have realized she was still among the living.

“Eva, honey, you frightened me to death. I couldn’t take it if I had lost you. Please, never try that again.”

Her eyes slowly moved over to me, and it finally registered that I had used her name. A slow smile spread over her face. Tears started down her cheeks as she said, “Oh Daddy!”

The End.

Derek King, a casual friend, had called me out of the blue—that was the norm for him—to ask to me to meet him at a restaurant for lunch. I was already there as he walked through the doors a few minutes late, spotted me at my table and hurried over. He seemed very, very edgy.

“Hey.”

“Hey Neil. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. You okay, Derek? You seem kind of nervous.”

“Nah, I’m great, I’m good.”

He really didn’t seem like his usual, oddball self. In fact, there had always been something kind of shady about Derek during the three years I had known him, but I liked his quirky sense of humor and we got along. We ordered our food and made somewhat forced small talk through our meal. I couldn’t help wondering why he even invited me to lunch.

This restaurant was always too warm, and today was no exception. The one odd thing I remember is that when I took my jacket off, Derek reached for it, and put it on his side of the booth, though there was plenty of room next to me. He continued talking as if nothing weird had happened. After that he ate his food pretty quickly, leaving a lot of it on the plate, told me he had to run, and threw some bills at me as he hurried out.

It was kind of odd, yes, but not so odd as to alert me to anything out of the ordinary. He really was a peculiar sort of guy. I shrugged to myself, paid the bill, put my jacket back on and walked outside. As I reached the sidewalk I was grabbed from behind and none-too-gently shoved into a waiting black van, which instantly took off. When I tried to ask what was happening, I received a blow to the head that knocked me out.

-o0o-

It had all happened so fast that I never even got a look at my abductors. All I know is that it must have been a long time until I regained consciousness, because when I opened my eyes I was not in the van, but in bed, under the covers, in a small room—not a hospital room, but more like a nondescript motel room, with kind of beat-up furniture. I felt really foggy, and ached all over, as if I had gotten the beating of a lifetime.

As I lay there trying to make sense of my surroundings and my situation, the door quietly opened and a man walked in. He looked tall, wore a black suit and white shirt, and even dark sunglasses. He glanced at his watch.

“Perfect, you’re awake, right on time. You’ve been a very naughty girl, but don’t worry, while you were sleeping we corrected your error in judgment.” He paused briefly, looking at me. “And you turned out pretty nicely, I must say. Of course you weren’t that manly to start with.”

His whole speech confused me; nothing about it made sense. “I’m sorry, but–“ my voice wasn’t sounding right to me. I cleared my throat and tried again, but it sounded the same. “I… have no idea at all what you’re talking about.”

“We found the ‘item’ in your pocket.” He said this in such a way that I could see the quote marks around ‘item.’ “You made a big mistake when you stole from us.”

“I—I still really don’t know what you mean. Item? I don’t remember taking anything from anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter now. We have it back, and we’ve taken a bit of, shall we say, Compensation from you. Your possessions have all been confiscated. Your identity has been confiscated. Basically your whole life is gone. You do not screw around with us. You now have two choices: work for us as a…let’s call it a Companion. Or you can go out on the streets and take your chances.”

“I’m sorry to be so stupid about this, but I am completely in the dark. Who are you?”

“That’s something you should know better than to ask, unless you want to buy more trouble. I’m going to leave now, and when I come back in a few hours you can tell me your decision.”

So saying he quietly walked out the door, and I heard a key turn behind him. I didn’t understand at all what had happened to my life, what I was doing there, why he called me a naughty girl, why I felt so terrible, or what his choices even meant. I slowly eased myself upright in the bed and instantly felt an unfamiliar weight on my chest. Looking down I saw there were breasts hanging there that did not belong to me! Putting a hand to one, it was warm, and I could feel sensation on the skin. MY skin. My god, they gave me implants?! The man had called me a “naughty girl.” Could it mean—? No, surely not! I put the same hand down to my crotch and couldn’t believe that the equipment which had been there all of my twenty-seven years was missing. I think I fainted at that point.

When I opened my eyes again I was still on the bed. The same bed, in the same room. Very shakily I got to my feet, discovering I had some kind of short, terrycloth robe on. I was as weak as a kitten. I turned to the mirror behind the dresser, bracing myself. There was a woman in the mirror. She did not look at all like me, but she moved as I moved. She looked every inch a woman, even to the curves. I sat back down. What the hell had happened?? How could they have done this? What did I do to deserve this? I sat back down on the bed.

I started to go over what I could remember. I had gone to that restaurant and met Derek there. He was acting funny. And then he did that weird thing with my jacket. Could he have planted ‘the item’ on me, and then told these bad guys I was the thief? And I remembered how quickly he got out of the restaurant. He could have met them and pointed me out when I exited.

Even speculating about all this I was no closer to coming to terms with what had been done to me. I was in shock.

And what did Mr. Mysterious mean? Was he implying I was to become some mobster’s girlfriend? Or a sex slave? Well, that was out! I’d take my chance on the streets before entering into any relationship like that. Frankly, I was amazed I was being given a choice.

Looking in the mirror again, I tried to assess this woman I saw. She was even more slender than I was, or than I remembered being. She had much longer hair than I did. How’d they do that? What else? She wasn’t terrible looking. To my eye she just didn’t resemble me at all, facially. Different nose, chin shape, jaw line… Edging close to the mirror I looked her over closely. If that was plastic surgery, well, all I could say is that they did a great job. But why put so much money into this transformation? Then a scarier thought struck me – what if they had somehow switched my body with this woman’s? (Give me a break; I was groggy.) They needed a man for some job, and she was the ideal mastermind? Shaking my head—too fast, as it turned out—I tried to stop thinking these kinds of things, which were making me feel like I was crazy.

Then a little glimmer came to me, a way I could find out if I was still in my own body. I pulled the robe up and twisted around to get a look at my lower ribcage. Aha, my odd-shaped surgery scar was still there. I was still me. Well, at least a little bit.

-o0o-

I sat there so long I lost track of time. Lying down I just let my mind skim over the shambles my life suddenly had become.

Suddenly the sound of the key in the lock brought me out of this tortured sort of fugue state. Mr. Mysterious came back in the room. I sat up.

“Have you made your decision?”

“Mister, the only thing I know is that I’m not going to be anyone’s ‘companion’ or sex slave. Can you tell me anything at all helpful about me or my situation?”

He mused for a little bit, and then said, “We are a fair organization. We consider your debt to us paid. You are free to go. If you find yourself starving and desperate, and change your mind about working for us, you can call this number. You’ll find some clothes in the closet.”

He placed a business card on the dresser, and as he was leaving the room he looked back and said, “I think you’d do very well with us. You’re a good-looking girl.”

My first instinct was to throw the card away, but then, what would happen if I couldn’t remake a life for myself? I had no legal identity, no possessions, I had no clue how to act like a woman. What would happen to me? First, though, I wanted to get out of there.

In a kind of zombie-like fog I went to the closet and found a bland gray shirtdress and a pair of sandals. Before I put it on I looked in the dresser and saw they were kind enough to leave me one panty and one bra. Putting it all on I regarded myself in the mirror again. Shaking my head I told the woman, “You have no idea what you’re getting into.” I put the business card in the one breast pocket, and, putting on the sandals I stumbled out the door and into my new life.

-o0o-

It was a nice day, thank goodness, since there had been no coat. It was not too warm, and there was a gentle breeze that felt good, helping my head feel a bit clearer. I didn’t recognize the part of town I was in, or even what town, but it was a main street, with strip malls, free-standing stores, and three lanes of traffic in each direction. It was apparently near nothing at all; the shops seemed to stretch for miles. Walking and walking, it didn’t take very long before I was too tired to keep going. I still was very sore and achy, and still very confused. I had no idea how much time had passed since my abduction, or when I had last had any food. Now at least I was able to answer one of those questions. A bank I was passing showed the time, date and temperature, and as near as I could remember, it seemed that two months had passed since that day in the restaurant. Two months. It staggered my mind. I think I was still too much in shock to break down.

There were benches on the sidewalk, and I sank onto one of them. After a while I noticed I was getting odd looks from people going by and realized with a start that I should have my legs together. A woman isn’t supposed to sprawl out on a seat, especially while wearing a dress. I quickly put them together.

I knew something about women, after all. Holly was my steady girlfriend, whom I loved, and—

I think all the blood drained from my head at that moment as I realized our relationship was over, dead. We had discussed different gender connections more than once during our time together, and she had sounded adamant that she would never consider a lesbian relationship – she said she just wasn’t made that way. Tears started spilling down my cheeks as I realized that one more thing had been taken from me. Up to now I hadn’t been much of a crier, but circumstances had changed that.

“Miss? Are you okay?” The words barely penetrated my consciousness. “Miss?” I looked up from my fog and saw the kind but concerned face of a middle-aged lady.

“I’m…I’m just having a very bad day,” I told her.

She sat down next to me.

“How can I help you?” she asked, very earnestly.

“Oh my god, I don’t even know where to start. My entire life is gone.” That started my tears up again. Until now I had been too shocked for any emotion to penetrate. The woman put her arm around me and I just bawled onto her shoulder. She made comforting noises to me, until I was finally able to somewhat pull myself together.

“Thank you, ma’am. Sorry for getting you all wet.”

“Nonsense. Can I take you to your home?”

“Ma’am, I have nothing at all in the world. No house, no money, nothing other than what I’m wearing.”

She looked at me for a while, sizing me up, perhaps.

“Why don’t you come home with me, and we’ll see what can be done for you? My name is Nell Whiteman.”

I opened my mouth to say who I was, but stopped. Who was I going to tell her I was? Some man named Neil Clayton? I had no identity anymore, certainly not a male one.

She was looking at me expectantly.

“You’re not going to believe this, but I don’t know my name.”

Her expression softened to more of a “you poor dear” look. “Well then, if you don’t mind, I think you look sort of like a Jeanie. Does that sound okay?”

I smiled gratefully to have the decision taken out of my hands.

“Come with me, Jeanie,” she said, pulling me to my feet.

-o0o-

Nell took us to her car and drove us to her modest home, about ten minutes from wherever we had been. Still nothing about the area was recognizable to me. Nell had to help me from the car into the house. I hadn’t realized just how weak I was.

She sat me at her kitchen table and brought out some cold food for me. I waited for her to get something for herself, but she just gestured for me to eat. It all tasted fantastic, which made me wonder how long I had been without oral sustenance. If I had been asleep long enough for all the surgery they must have done on me, and then the healing, I must have been on an IV or stomach feeding tube. I shook my head again, not wanting to think about that.

It didn’t take that much to fill me up Nell had watched me while I ate.

“You sure you’ve had enough, dear?”

“Thank you so much, but I really don’t think I can eat any more. It tasted wonderful.”

“Well now, why don’t you try and tell me what you meant by your life is gone?”

Could I actually tell her about this? The downside is that she could try and send me to the funny farm. But, well, what if she could help me put together another life?

I took a deep breath and looked at her. “Nell, you probably are not going to believe me, but the last thing I remember was two months ago, and I was a man.”

To her credit she didn’t interrupt during my short recital of what had happened after I left the restaurant and since I had woken up this morning.

“…And my theory is that my ‘friend’ planted something on me and then fingered me as the thief. So here I am, through no fault of my own with no identity or possessions, and having had my sex stolen. I have no idea in the world how to start again.”

Nell looked at me for a while as she considered this crazy tale.

“Jeanie, I have to say that is a remarkable story, and some things about the way you act and talk tell me that you are not used to being a woman. Going back to being a man doesn’t look as though it’s a viable option, so we need to look forward. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but now that you are producing no hormones, you will have to start Hormone Replacement Therapy, or you’re going to start to run into health problems. And you’re probably not ready to learn about dilation at this point.”

“Dilation?”

“Why don’t we talk about that later.”

“How do you know about these things, Nell?

She smiled and said, “I’m a part-time nurse. As far as establishing a new identity, though, that takes me out of my depth, but you can stay here with me and I will help you all I can.”

“Nell, you don’t even know me!”

“Jeanie, one of the ways I derive satisfaction in life is by helping others where I can. You really seem like you could use my help!”

“I… I…” words failed me as I started crying again.

-o0o-

Over the next few weeks and then months Nell taught me a lot about how to act like a woman and how to take care of my body. She took me to a doctor friend of hers who checked me out and gave me an HRT medication. Once I had figured out how to establish an identity, she could write me a prescription.

I felt very sorry for myself much of the time, and Nell often had to shake me out of a mood. I’d apologize, and she’d hug me and murmur things that made me feel better. The whole journey of becoming a woman was never something I had been interested in experiencing, and to be thrust into it was just something I had to tell myself again and again I needed to get used to. To me it never seemed I did a very good job of it, but Nell approved of my progress, and there was never anyone yelling at me that I was some kind of pervert.. Nell was such a godsend, such a wonderful friend.

-o0o-

I found out that I was some hundred miles from my one-time home. The notion never even arose in my mind to go visit my former existence. That was all gone; what good could come of it? From time to time I wondered what Holly had thought when I disappeared. Had I been declared dead? If the mob—or whoever these people were—operated like they did in the movies, my place would have been emptied out, phone cut off, all traces of me eradicated.

I would have loved to see Holly, but having her reject me because I was no longer a man just seemed like it would crush me. Better if she thought I was dead and could move on. This idea really pained me, and there were many nights I cried myself to sleep over my lost love.

As time went on I got stronger, but I had lost muscle mass, not that I ever had that much to begin with. Maybe I was as strong as the average woman now. I had never been a robust, well-built GQ-type man. I had a small frame, and wasn’t hairy, but as far as I was concerned I was never effeminate. That made it harder to understand why I looked so feminine now, instead of like a man reconstructed as a woman. But looking feminine and acting feminine are two separate things, and Nell taught me what she could to help make the behavior match the body.

I couldn’t imagine what they had done to make my voice higher, but Nell taught me to speak more musically, and about tonal inflections women tend to use. My new voice was not unpleasing.

-o0o-

Pondering the identity issue while doing some online research on Nell’s computer I found that the U.S. Marshal’s Service handled the Witness Protection area. It seemed like it could be worth a shot to take my problem to them. Nell drove me to the Federal building and we went in to see them. She stayed by my side, which I really appreciated. We were ushered into a small office and I introduced myself as Jeanie Whiteman, Nell’s niece.

“How can we help you, Miss Whiteman?”

“I have a very strange story to tell, but what I really need is to establish an identity.”

The man’s eyebrows raised, but he said, “Please tell me this story of yours.”

I told him the story of what had happened to me. I said I had no idea what the ‘item’ was or who any of the abductors were. In fact the only thing I knew, and not as a fact, was that I was pretty sure I’d been set up by Derek King. The final thing I gave him was the business card with the phone number on it.

“Would you please wait here?”

It wasn’t a particularly pleasant room, but Nell and I sat there together and waited nervously while he probably checked whatever parts of my story he was able to. He returned in about twenty minutes.

“I have confirmed that Neil Clayton was reported missing about three months ago. And Derek King also has disappeared. A body purporting to be Clayton’s was recovered from a car fire a week later.”

So, I was dead! And maybe karma caught up with Derek for setting me up!

“I knew there wasn’t much I could tell you that could be established as fact. I look nothing like I used to look. Even if you could find my fingerprints somewhere that wouldn’t tell you what happened to me. I just don’t know how to function in today’s world with no identity.”

“I think we can help you with that. The rest of this information we will keep on a sort of standby in case something else pops up in this case.”

“Oh, THANK YOU! You have no idea what a weight this is off my mind.”

My new identity papers were available after two weeks. In my case it wasn’t necessary to be relocated, since as far as anyone knew, no one was after me.

-o0o-

After a year I found myself working a job I liked okay, selling office furniture, and settling in. Nell and I were very fond of each other, I thought of her as a mother or aunt, and still lived with her. Being a woman was just a fact now, and I had adjusted mentally, for the most part. Of course there were still many things I had to learn about how differently women face the world, how they interact with men versus women, etc. But I was getting there.

The odds of this happening must have been astronomical, but after a couple more years at my place of business I found a new customer assigned to me: Holly. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she walked in. I wanted to run to her and hug her to bits, but of course Jeanie had never met Holly, and I couldn’t let her know who I was. I was professional with her, and we had a satisfactory business transaction. We did a lot of talking about what sort of desk chair she wanted, and she tried out many of them. She seemed to take a shine to me, and invited me out for a coffee. I knew it was probably a mistake, but it was also a good business move to accept her offer.

“It’s very odd, but I feel as if I know you,” she said, as we sat in the café.

That really startled me, though I tried not to show it. “It must be my resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor,” I joked.

She laughed, but continued, “No, it’s not your looks. You just have the same sort of… aura as an old friend.”

I raised my eyebrows. “An old friend? Do tell. Who was she?”

“Actually, not a she, but a he. He was practically my fiancé, and one day he just disappeared. And the way his things were so suddenly gone—all trace of him, really—I felt that some kind of foul play must have happened. And then they found his body in the wreckage of a car fire.”

“That’s extraordinary, Holly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, he was a pretty good man,” she said, sadly.

“Did you ever find out what had actually happened to him?”

“No. The cops couldn’t find out exactly what had taken place. They just said it looked like his car had gone off the road, and then exploded.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

“The body was little more than cinders. I know it’s unrealistic, but I keep hoping that it wasn’t really him, and that one day he’ll show up, but I just can’t keep my hopes up like that. It’s been more than three years.”

“Yeah, you probably need to put it behind you, but I can understand why it would be difficult to completely give up.”

“Thanks. And thanks for accepting my invitation. I just had a feeling I would like you.”

I smiled. “You’re welcome. It’s been a pleasure.”

As we parted I kind of hoped she wouldn’t come back. It was just so hard to interact with her as, basically, a stranger. It left me depressed the rest of the day.

-o0o-

When I got home I told Nell all about it and let her comfort me.

“And the worst part is, if I did tell her who I am—or was—she wouldn’t be interested in being anything more than friends. She emphatically told me once that she had no lesbian tendencies at all.”

“I’m sorry Jeanie. This whole thing has turned your life upside down.”

“Well, I told Holly she needed to put it all behind her, and I guess I should really take my own advice. It was just so hard to see her, but be a stranger.”

Nell gave me a hug, and we then fixed dinner together.

-o0o-

It turned out that Holly had moved to my new city, and she did show up again at my business place, this time to shop for a new desk for her home office. This time she invited me to dinner. I really considered refusing, but after she said she felt so friendly to me, I just couldn’t say no to her. After all, she was all alone too and could use some friendly support.

That dinner turned into many dinners, movies, and shopping. I knew I was getting into dangerous territory, but now I didn’t know how to back out. I started to wonder how things might turn out if she did find out who I was. How bad could it be? We were now friends, and maybe we’d stay friends. But being girlfriends with my onetime almost fiancée was already difficult for me. On the other hand, I had no other romantic prospects, and couldn’t even imagine having any. No one I had seen since this happened stirred anything in me. I didn’t even know if there was anything inside me to stir.

-o0o-

Now that we were so friendly, Holly invited me to a spa day with her. I had never been to a spa before, and Nell told me what to expect. It sounded very relaxing.

We were pampered and oiled, manicured, massaged, and I really enjoyed it. There was no reason for me to be shy with her while nude; I had nothing to hide. But once we were in the hot tub she started acting a little odd with me.

“Is anything wrong, Holly?”

“I’m not really sure. There’s something I have to figure out.”

“Well, if you want my help you only have to ask,” I said.

She kept stealing glances at me the rest of the time we were there, and I started to get uncomfortable.

She drove us back to her place when we were finished. I tried asking her again what was wrong, but she just said to wait until we got home.

Inside we took off our coats and she asked me to sit down.

“Jeanie, there’s something really bothering me about you.”

“Well, I could tell that, but what is it?”

“When we first met I told you that you reminded me of my old boyfriend. Today I find you have a scar on your back that’s exactly the same as the one he had. I can’t fathom why he would have turned into a woman, but if he did, why wouldn’t he tell me he felt that way?”

I sighed to myself. Here it comes. Could I bluff it out?

“You don’t think it’s possible for two people to have a similar scar?”

“Not like that one, and in the same exact spot, no.”

There was silence while I tried to think of what to say, and while she waited for me to make some kind of excuse.”

“Please just tell me,” she pleaded.

“I’m afraid,” I said, my voice cracking. Saying that was the same thing as admitting the truth. My emotions were very much on edge.

“I swear I will not go crazy and scream. Tell me.”

“Oh Holly!” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “This was not something I did to myself. The mob, or something like it, was involved, but it was not my involvement. What I mean is, my so-called friend, Derek, met me at a restaurant, and managed to plant some object in my jacket. Then he left. When I left the restaurant I was abducted and knocked out. When I woke up, two entire months had passed!! I had been castrated, turned into a woman, and my entire life was ‘confiscated,” I was told. I had absolutely nothing. I was offered the opportunity to work for them as a Companion,” I said, using air quotes, “or to go on the streets. I chose the streets. Thank god I was found the same day by Nell, my savior. She got me back on my feet and taught me how to live as a woman.”

Her expression had gone from horrified to a look of pity.

“But Jea—Neil, why didn’t you let me know?”

“Please just call me Jeanie; I’ll never be Neil again,” I said, wiping my eyes. “How could I, Holly? You had once made it clear to me that you were no lesbian. If you thought I had died you could at least move on with your life. It has been so hard to be with you and not be Neil.”

With that I broke down completely. I felt her come and put her arms around me, and we cried together. When we were down to just sniffling, and starting to wipe our faces off, we just sat there next to each other. She looked at me searchingly.

“I can hardly see any resemblance,” she said.

“I know. Me too.”

“But you do have the same eyes.”

She was quiet, while still looking into my eyes.

“I never stopped loving you…Jeanie.”

“And I never stopped loving you, Holly. I’ve missed you terribly, even with our new relationship.”

I lowered my head, dreading to hear her say she would be unable to love me as a woman.

“Oh Jeanie, you’ve been through so much pain…”

“I should go,” I said abruptly, standing up.

“Please, don’t go yet,” she said, grabbing my hand and stopping me.

I looked down at her. “Holly, now that you know the truth, that should give you closure. You can move on with your life now, and let Neil go. He did die three years ago.”

“But what about you, Jeanie? What will you do?”

I shrugged. “I’ll continue on with my job. I have nothing else, other than my friendship with Nell.”

“What of our friendship?”

I looked at her in surprise.

“You still want to be friends with me?”

“Why not?”

I sat back down on the sofa, my mind whirling.

“I’m confused,” I said.

She was quiet for a minute.

“Jeanie, let me try something.” Holly leaned toward me and put one hand behind my head. She brought us together, our eyes closed, and she gave me a very gentle kiss. It was nice. I opened my eyes, but hers were still closed. I just sat there and waited. It was like she was trying to figure out the flavor of something she had just eaten. Suddenly she moved back in and she was kissing me again, only more forcefully now, and with some tongue. She was in charge. When she sensed that she stopped and looked at me.

“Aren’t you enjoying this, Jeanie?”

“Yes, very much so. I never thought I would ever kiss anyone again. Holly, I’m sorry but I really don’t have a whole lot of sex drive anymore. It’s another casualty of my situation. What about you? How do you feel about kissing a woman?”

“It was actually much better than I thought it’d be,” she said, smiling. “Your lips seem softer and you do kiss a little differently than you used to. Have you had any practice?”

That hurt. Could she really think…

“Holly! How can you ask that? The last person I ever kissed was you!”

“Calm down, Jeanie. I’m sorry I said that. I really can’t imagine all you’ve gone through, but I want to be here for you now.”

“Even though it would be a lesbian relationship?”

“Yes, even though it would mean a lesbian relationship. I still love you, and I would be a fool to throw that love away because of a bias. You’re still the same person inside.”

“I wonder if I am,” I said slowly. “I mean, yes, I do still love you, but I’m sure I’ve changed in some ways just from being forced into this new life.”

“Remember I said you had the same aura? To me that means you’re still the same soul I fell in love with years ago,” she said, and wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. I started crying again.

“What’s the matter, honey?”

“I’m just…I guess I’m happy. I never thought I’d find love again, let alone get the person back whom I already loved. I really never expected to see you again. But I’m still afraid you’ll decide you can’t love another woman, and you’ll dump me.”

“Jeanie, I swear to you that I will love you just as much as I loved Neil. Beyond that, no one can tell the future.”

We sat there wrapped around each other, happily and quietly enjoying each other’s presence. After quite a while we got up to think about dinner. I called Nell to tell her I wasn’t going to be home tonight.

“Does this mean what I think it means, Jeanie?”

“I really think it does, Nell. I am very happy right now.”

“That is wonderful, dear! I’m happy for you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too, Nell.”

-o0o-

Our reestablished love affair felt so incredible to me, I thanked my lucky stars every day. As two women the dynamics between us were somewhat different, but Holly seemed to have very little trouble taking the role of the dominant sex partner. With my lowered sex drive I was just happy to be next to her and touch her. The rest of our relationship balanced itself out pretty satisfactorily.

I did end up moving in with her. I was sorry to leave Nell, but she had other people to save, and we, of course, remained good friends.

-o0o-

The man came into my office wearing a dark suit and carrying a briefcase. He sat down across from me. No one had told me I was getting a client. I started to greet him, but he held up a hand.

“Miss Whiteman, I have brought something for you. My organization sometimes has a pretty dark reputation, but we do try and be fair, as we judge fair to be.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m in the dark. Who are you and what is your organization?”

“Neither of those things is important. My only message to you is that we acknowledge you mistakenly took the rap for Derek King, and we’ve been looking for you to give you a sort of restitution package. Good day, ma’am.”

He walked out of my office before I could gather my wits. I didn’t even think to chase him, not that that would have been a good idea. Obviously he was part of the same organization which had profoundly changed my life. He was so nondescript-looking that I don’t think I would have been able to describe him to anyone. I just sat there blinking…and shaking. What package was he talking about? Then I noticed he had left the briefcase. Getting up I picked it up and placed it on my desk. I stood there looking at it for some time. Did I really want to know? Finally I reached out and opened the snaps. Pulling it open I saw the neat packets of bills. Grabbing my seat I fell back into it.

They gave me money as compensation for stealing my life and manhood. Evidently Derek’s deceit must have been discovered and who knows what had become of him. And so I was paid for my “pain and suffering” or something like that. Well, I suppose I did deserve some repayment, as all my possessions, and any other assets were gone. It didn’t really matter how much it was; it was more than I had ever expected to get, which was nothing.

I closed the briefcase and put it down next to my feet. When I left for home that day I brought it with me and Holly and I counted it. It was a hundred thousand dollars. Was that a fair price? I couldn’t say, and I didn’t really care. We would invest it and use it for the old age we intended to spend together.

The End.

Author’s Note: To me this doesn’t seem like my typical kind of story. If anyone objects to the way the mob is handled, the new identity or any of the other details, well, all I can tell you is it’s Fiction.

Another variation on the theme of Wife Discovers Husband Dressed

Eddie

My loving wife, Marie, who was supposed to have gone on an overnight business trip, walked in on me that day, when I was completely dressed as my alter-ego, Stephanie. Her mouth dropped open, until she realized it was me. Then her face contorted and she started yelling. “You pervert! What’s wrong with you, dressing up like that? I can’t believe this! I want you out of here by the time I get back tomorrow, you bastard!” She grabbed the forgotten item which brought her back unexpectedly and stomped out the door, leaving me frozen, shocked, tearful and grief-stricken.

Once I regained my wits, I got out of the clothes as if they were on fire and resumed my normal, male appearance. I didn’t want to change my sex or anything; I just liked the clothes and looking feminine, and I always had. Obviously I had never told her about my cross-dressing; it was just too embarrassing, and I was very afraid of just such a reaction as the one I had just witnessed.

I packed up what I could and what was important to me, and hauled it out to my van. I knew it was a shock for Marie to find me like that, but why did she have to react so horribly? Shaking my head, I left my phone and credit card there, as well as my keys. She wanted me out, and that was what I was going to do for her. I wrote a short note and left it on the counter with the phone and keys.

Before leaving town I stopped at the bank and withdrew half our savings, as well as half of our joint checking account.

I considered myself very fortunate to have a job where I could work from anywhere, and I drove most of that day and, after a night in a motel, I got back in the van and kept driving. After many hours on mental auto-pilot I realized I was heading towards one of my favorite small-town vacation destinations. And why not? Happy memories were associated with the area.

Over the next few weeks I found an apartment there to settle in, and started up my life again. I missed Marie, but I hoped she would understand that words have power, and her words had hurt me and banished me.

Marie

Walking in on Eddie and finding him dressed like a woman was a huge shock to me. I never dreamed he wanted to be a woman. For some reason it made me angry. Was he gay? Did he want to have a sex-change and leave me? What about our marriage? Was that all a lie?

I had a business meeting to get back to, and I just had to try and put him out of my mind until it was over. It wasn’t easy, and I think my colleagues could tell my head wasn’t all the way in the game. That night, in the hotel, I was much less perturbed about it, and when I was able to take a calmer look, saw that maybe I had overreacted a bit. When I thought about it rationally, he was a very loving husband, very sensitive, and we had always seemed compatible. He listened to me, unlike some men I knew, and was supportive of me in many ways. He seemed to have a normal male sex drive. He even was pretty good at critiquing my outfits… when asked!

I started to understand that maybe some of what made him a good husband was his feminine side, and he was a good husband. Now I began to be very sorry about the way I had reacted to him. I said some pretty awful things, and I hoped he would listen to my apology. I was able to fall asleep once I had determined on this course of action.

The next day I drove back home. His van wasn’t there. Uh oh! I had told him to get out! No, I had yelled at him to get out! Oh no! Entering the house the first thing I saw was his keys, credit card and phone on the counter. There was a paper with his keys, and unfolding it I read his short note:

Dear Marie,

I’m sorry for shocking you like that. I have liked women’s clothes from a very early age, and I don’t think I was harming anyone. But I will respect your wishes and leave.

It was unsigned, which said something.

Going to our bedroom I saw he had taken most of his clothes and personal items. My heart sank when I realized he had really taken me seriously and packed up and left. He left his phone so I was unable to call him to apologize.

Sitting down on the bed I cried for a long time, and cursed myself for reacting so nastily and so over the top. He was right – who was he harming by wearing a dress?

The next day I discovered he’d left me with half our savings and half the checking account balance. This really was serious. How was I going to find him? I had tried e-mailing him the day before, but there was no reply. It was as if he had fallen off the map. He had no brothers or sisters I could contact, and his parents were deceased. I really didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t even sure who he worked for, since it was all done online, and it seemed as if he had different clients all the time.

He did have one friend, Dave, and I called him to see if he had heard from Eddie, but they hadn’t spoken in more than a month. Dave was worried too now, and wanted to know what was what, but I didn’t feel I could share this problem with anyone.

What was I going to do? I wanted him back home, and if he wanted to dress up I guessed I could put up with it. When I thought back to that awful day, he didn’t look too bad…really.

Eddie

As the weeks went by I got comfortable in my new surroundings. I’d brought Stephanie’s clothes with me, more to get them out of Marie’s sight than to wear them, but I hadn’t even unpacked them; that memory was still too raw for me to face.

I had no idea what, if anything, I was going to do about Marie. Was I trying to let her stew in her own juices? Or was I just obeying her order to “get out”? Would I ever contact her to see if she realized how she had hurt me? I just didn’t know. And if she did understand that fact, what would the next step be?

Marie

While I waited for inspiration on how to get Eddie back, I started to do research into transvestism and its many offshoots. I was relieved to find that most transvestites are heterosexual. But then there was that note about the difference between a transvestite and a cross-dresser. I wouldn’t know which Eddie was until I could speak to him. What if he did it for a sexual thrill, or even wanted to have a sex change? But wouldn’t I have sensed something like that??

I read some stories about situations such as ours, where the wife surprised the cross-dressed husband, and things went bad, and sometimes very bad. Sometimes the husband would commit suicide, or try to, and that really made me feel awful, to think that something I had done might have caused Eddie to take his own life. But then I decided that someone who was going to kill himself wouldn’t have needed to have taken all his clothes and possessions with him, so that was (probably) a load off my mind.

By now four months had passed with no word at all. I missed him all the time.

Since I didn’t know what else to do I contacted a support group for the transgendered and their spouses and spoke to a therapist about what had happened, and how I didn’t know what to do to find Eddie, let alone get him back. The therapist helped me explore my feelings as they had gone from enraged to sorrowful, and asked if I really accepted this part of him, which was something he really needed and was good for his well-being. By now I would do anything required to have Eddie back, and I said yes, I would accept that part of him.

The therapist’s only suggestion for finding him was to employ a detective, but suggested that the detective only find him, and that I be the one to approach him. I heartily agreed to that, and went about hiring a detective.

Eddie

Four months had passed since that day Marie walked in on me, and I was starting to feel I could unpack Stephanie’s clothes, having felt the familiar urge for a while now. Being so much at home, I began to wear the clothes much of the time. I had never been very good with makeup, but now, with no one to hide from, I learned from YouTube videos about how to improve. I also began to pay more attention to my hair, which, thankfully, was thick and a little wavy. I grew confident enough to come to the door to accept packages en femme. I’m sure most of the delivery people thought I was overdressed, but I didn’t care. I thought I passed pretty well, though I was still too afraid to step outside dressed.

Marie

With a few recommendations, I found a detective I liked, and he agreed to try and find out where Eddie had disappeared to. It took him two weeks of searching, and to my surprise I learned that Eddie was many hours away, in another state. I did remember that he liked that small town where he was now living. Now I had to plan how I would approach him.

If I showed up on his doorstep and he was dressed like a woman again, how would I react, after all I had learned? If it happened that way, I decided the best thing would just be to give him a big hug and show acceptance. If he was just Eddie, well, I would still plan on the hug. I was getting excited about seeing him again, and I really hoped he would accept my sincere apology. I made plans to drive up there.

Eddie

I was in the middle of a tricky problem with one of my clients online when the doorbell buzzed. I wasn’t expecting a package, but I excused myself, stopped what I was doing and came to the door. Peeking through the peep-hole I was shocked to the core to see Marie outside. My heart rate shot up and I felt faint. Did I want to see her? I missed her, but that was a far cry from a face-to-face encounter. However, the very fact that she had tracked me down must indicate she had had a change of heart about me.

Pulling myself together, I smoothed my skirt and opened the door. We stared at each other for fully thirty seconds. I could see she was checking out my look, and a tiny smile formed on her face. Then she launched herself at me and started crying. “Oh, Eddie! I can’t apologize enough for how I treated you. I have no excuse for saying those awful things. I’ve missed you so much!”

It took me a little while to respond, but the hug did feel good, especially after almost five months without much warm human contact, and, after all, I did love her. So I put my arms around her and hugged back.

Then I pulled her inside and closed the door.

The End.

Last year, when I was fourteen, my dad took me to the opera. Dad, a real opera lover, was always telling me that going to the opera could change your life, but I didn’t really buy it. Anyhow, he didn’t take me there to watch it, but to act as a supernumerary, or extra. The opera was Aida, and I was selected to be one of several spear carriers. Once I was chosen as a super I was separated from Dad, and the costume and makeup department painted my skin red, put me in a smelly costume, and gave me a spear to hold.

The blocking guy in charge of the extras called out, “All you spear carriers follow me,” and led us to a school classroom-sized room. He explained our blocking and had us walk through our marks a couple of times.

We then waited in the wings, and at the appointed time he sent us out stage left, and we tramped around as he had directed, and then right back offstage, stage right. I couldn’t see the audience due to the bright lights, so it felt like no big deal. People were singing around us and doing things, but we kind of ignored them. I don’t even like opera, but this was fun.

We came offstage, got the costumes off and some of us tried to get the paint off our skin. Although there were a lot of sinks, there were no showers—not that any of us had brought showering accouterments (towels, soap). Poor Dad had been one of the slaves, wearing a pretty skimpy tunic with a lot of skin showing, and had been painted a dark brownish color over much of his body. It would be a lot harder for him to scrub that off than for me! I only had my face, neck and arms to do. Maybe a little bit on the legs too.

“I just hope a cop doesn’t stop us on the way home,” he said. “I don’t know how easy this would be to explain!”

This year Dad and I presented ourselves to the extras casting guy, and were again separated. I didn’t know what I would be, but this time I was led to a different dressing area with two other short young guys. The only costumes I saw were white dresses, like from the 1890s. The staff quickly had us down to our underwear and started getting us into female clothing. I’m sure that none of us were expecting that. One guy started to balk, but the woman handling him told him it was only a costume, that they had no women supernumeraries available today, and that having men in female roles was a very old theater tradition. I wasn’t sure what to think, but I was there to do a job and have fun, so I went along with it.

They dressed us up in the gauzy white dresses, put wigs on us, made up our faces, and then stylish hats went on. Thus dressed we were sent back out to the blocking guy. I don’t know about the other boys, but I sure felt conspicuous.

Our job would be to sit in a certain place, and just…sit there. We could fan ourselves with a fan if we liked, but otherwise, just sit until our cue to get up and slowly stroll offstage.

This time we got our places before the curtain went up. I felt like the actual opera company all knew we were boys, though most hardly gave us a look. A couple of the women smiled at me, so I smiled back. Some singers exercised their voices while we waited; others just chatted with each other.

Soon enough the curtain was raised and there we sat. I pulled out my fan and demurely fanned myself now and then, while the opera company sang and stomped around. I was surprised how long we were there until our cue to exit. It had to be seven or eight minutes, as opposed to the quick on-and-off business from last year.

On exiting back to the dressing area I saw Dad, still in his regular clothes. Evidently there had been no role for him this time. He didn’t recognize me until I said, “Hi Dad!” His eyes widened considerably.

“Wow! You look kind of amazing, Bobby. Here, let me take a quick picture,” he said, pulling out his phone and snapping a pic before I could object.

I continued on to the dressing room and was helped out of the dress. I actually thought it was nice, and even though it was kind of smelly, the way it held me felt good, not that I’d ever admit that.

Getting my clothes back on, I went back out to stand in line to be paid my three dollars. When I rejoined Dad he did another double-take. Oh yeah, the makeup!

“Even though it’s kind of overdone, you still look like my daughter,” he said, smiling.

“Thanks Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes.

-o0o-

Once we got home and inside, Mom and my older sister, Lindsey, now were the ones to do the double-takes.

“What on earth kind of role did you have this time?” Mom asked.

Before I could answer, Dad showed them the picture on his phone. I felt my face turn red, and ran upstairs to the bathroom to clean the makeup off. I had to scrub a long time, and my face felt raw.

Back in my bedroom there was a knock at the door, and my sister came in.

“What’d you run away for? You looked great!” she said.

“I would rather he hadn’t showed you,” I said. “I don’t want that picture getting out at all!”

“You don’t think Mary would like it?” she said, referring to my girlfriend.

“I’d die if she saw it,” I replied. “She’d probably drop me like a hot potato.”

Changing the subject, she asked, “So what did you have to do as this Victorian beauty?”

“Oh,” I said, perking up a little. “There were three of us, and we just had to sit around and fan ourselves from time to time. The opera singers didn’t pay any attention to us.”

“Sounds like fun. And you got paid for that?”

“Three whole dollars. I could buy a… a, big candy bar!” I said, laughing.

“So, did you like wearing the dress?” she asked, a bit more seriously.

“Well, ah, um, it was comfortable, but all the costumes there are kind of smelly. I wonder if they ever wash them!”

-o0o-

The next day I met Mary as usual and we walked to school together. She asked about the opera.

“Oh, it was fun. I was just another anonymous extra,” I said, averting my eyes.

“It just sounds exciting, to be on the stage of the big famous opera.”

“Well, there’s an element of excitement, but you can’t see the audience. It’s as if that side of the stage is a huge black wall. Don’t get me wrong, you know they’re out there—you can feel them, but you can’t see them. You mostly have to concentrate on being in the right place at the right time and getting off the stage on your cue.”

“Do you ever have to do anything other than walk?”

“Um, last year I carried a spear. This year I just had to use a fan now and then,” I said, accidentally.

“A fan? What sort of part was it?”

“Um, uh, I’m not sure. It was supposed to be hot, really hot.” I said, not-so-coincidentally starting to sweat.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re hiding something,” she said.

“Wha-, who, me?” I said, guiltily. “Gosh, I’d better hurry. I have to see someone before class!” I said, and took off running. I really didn’t handle lying very well.

-o0o-

After school we met up again to walk home. Now she looked at me speculatively, in a way that made me a little uneasy.

“So, Bobby. What was that opera called again?”

“I really can’t remember, Mary. I wasn’t watching it, and I didn’t get a program.”

“Was it by any chance the opera that has the three Victorian maidens sitting and fanning themselves?”

My eyes flew open. Then I put some things together.

“Any chance you’ve spoken to Lindsey today?”

“Oh, Lindsey, your sister? I might have seen her during lunch.”

My shoulders slumped.

“I can see she talked to you. Are you going to break up with me now?”

Now it was her turn for her eyes to widen.

“Why in the world would I break up with you? Just because you wore a dress? I think it’s cool. I really like the idea of a boyfriend who wears a dress! I wish there was a picture.”

This time I didn’t try to lie, since I was no good at it.

“My dad took a picture, but I don’t want anyone to see it.”

Her eyes lit up, and I’m sure she was already scheming how to get him to send it to her.

-o0o-

On Saturday Mary was over and, of course, asked my dad to show her the picture. He asked my permission, which made me happy, but since I knew Mary probably wouldn’t give up, I said it was okay to show her.

“Ooh! That’s really cute!” she squealed. “You look very sweet. Are you wearing a wig?”

“Of course I was wearing a wig. You don’t think my hair would go back in a bun thing like that, do you?”

“Maybe not, but you do have enough hair to make into a stylish do,” she grinned.

“All right. I’m embarrassed enough now. Can you stop?”

-o0o-

On Sunday Mary had invited me over in the afternoon. Her folks were out, so she brought me up to her room and we talked for a while. Then she got a serious look on her face.

“Bobby, you know I really like you, right?”

“Well, yeah, sure.”

“And that I would never wish to hurt you,” she continued.

“Yessss,” I said, trying to figure out where she was going with this. “What is this about?”

“I’m dying to see what you look like in modern girls’ clothes,” she said, looking very hopeful.

My girlfriend wants to see me in girls clothes??

“I don’t understand. Why would you want to see that?”

“Because you look so good and so pretty in that picture, I just want to see it for myself. In person.”

She moved closer to me and gave me a passionate kiss, so that my thinking kind of went a little fuzzy. Ish. Fuzzy-ish!

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, kissing me again.

“Oh, all right,” I said, caving in far too easily.

Though I was fifteen, I still hadn’t started my growth spurt, so Mary and I were about the same height. She got out a kind of girly pink blouse, bra and skirt and asked me to get out of my clothes.

I felt extremely self-conscious standing in front of her only in my briefs. First she put my arms through the bra straps and fastened it behind me. After she nestled a couple enhancers into it she helped me with the blouse buttons. She then handed me the skirt and told me how to put it on, with the zipper in the back. I was able to zip it myself.

She stood back to take a look.

“Hardly any leg hair. Good. Take off those socks,” she ordered, and I did so. She looked happier. Getting a pair of peds and a pair of flats from her closet she said to put them on, and though they were just a little tight, they actually fit! I could have sworn my feet were way bigger than hers; obviously my shoes were!

Coming up to me she reached behind and pulled out my hair elastic, fluffing my hair up around my face, and then looked searchingly into my eyes. She gave me a soft kiss, and I felt myself heating up, both from her assertiveness, and from the feel of the clothes.

Then she sat me down and did a quick makeover, and pulled my hair in various directions. Finally she simply parted it in the middle and put a cloth headband on me which had a bow on the top.

I looked in the mirror at what she had done, and I was frankly amazed. If I thought I looked like a girl at the opera, this girl was ten times more girly. I looked up at Mary.

“You look really pretty, Bobby!” she said. “I love it!”

I didn’t understand why she loved it, but I was happy she didn’t want to break up. She pulled me to my feet and we put our arms around each other and started making out.

After as thorough a make-out session as we ever had, we lay on her bed next to each other.

“So can you tell me why you like me like this?” I asked.

“I’m not sure I can explain. There’s just something about you looking like a girl that I really like. Remember the other day when I said I really like the idea of a boyfriend who wears a dress?”

“Yeah.”

“That was even before I saw the picture of you, and now that I’ve seen the real thing, I’m sure I like it! I mean, maybe if you were a giant, hairy, muscley guy I wouldn’t think so, but as you are you just look so good, and it’s really fun to know you’re my boyfriend under those clothes.”

“Well, okay. I still don’t get it, but I’m relieved you don’t think I’m some kind of sissy.”

“No, not at all. It’s a turn-on.”

We were just lying there next to each other, holding hands, enjoying each other’s company and warmth. She had turned on some music, and at some point we thought we heard a door close.

“That’s odd. My parents aren’t due back for a couple more hours,” said Mary.

We sat up on the bed, but we didn’t hear any more. Within a minute, however, her mother was there, standing at the open door. My heart jumped into my throat. She looked kind of surprised, maybe because our makeup was pretty smeared from all the kissing. But she apparently decided to ignore that for now.

“Mary, please get ready to leave, and you’ll have to ask your friend to leave too. We have to go right away.” She walked away.

I paled at this, and was stunned she hadn’t recognized me.

“Mom, what’s up? Where do we have to go?”

“I’ll tell you in the car,” she called back.

“What am I supposed to do?” I whispered urgently.

“I’ll put your clothes in a bag and maybe you can find somewhere on the way home to change? I’m really sorry about this.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I obviously didn’t have much choice. We both went into the bathroom and she cleaned up our faces and reapplied my lipstick. Back in the room she got my stuff into a bag and handed it to me.

“Mary!!” called her father.

“Coming!” she yelled.

“You’ll be fine,” she told me. “You look perfect, and so cute. It might be scary, but have faith in yourself. Take smaller steps, and think of me!”

Dreading what was to come, I went downstairs with her and then right out the front door, bypassing her parents, who were in the kitchen.

And there I was. Outside. Wearing a skirt and blouse, and with breasts, my heart pounding. I would have frozen like a deer in headlights but I wanted to get further from her house so her parents didn’t get another look at me. Well, her mom.

I walked very slowly, remembering to take small steps, racking my brain to think of anywhere I could either go in looking like a girl and coming out like a boy, or some hidden area. Nothing at all was coming to mind. It was just houses around here. I passed a woman walking a dog and she gave me a smile, so I smiled back. I guess that was my first test passed. I was aware of the skirt lining caressing my legs, and that distracted me somewhat, because it really felt nice.

It was only three blocks to my house from Mary’s, and before I knew it I was already turning onto my street. It made me very happy that no one was outside. I just couldn’t think where I could possibly change. So, do I brazen it out, and answer the inevitable questions? Ugh. Could my family please not be home???

Shrugging in defeat, I walked up to my house and entered through the back door. My mom was in the kitchen, and looked at me in surprise.

“Can I help you, young lady?”

I stood and fidgeted for a while, until my mom started to see past the makeup.

“Oh my. Bobby?? Is that you?”

Turning even redder than I thought was possible, I answered.

“Yes, mom.”

Now she began to smile.

“I’ll just bet there’s an interesting story coming,” she said.

“Oh, well, not all that interesting,” I said. Might as well just tell the truth.

“Let’s hear it anyway.”

“You remember how Mary wanted to see that picture of me at the opera?”

She nodded, still grinning.

“Well, she kind of wanted to see for herself. So she got me all dressed up, but then her parents came home unexpectedly and they had to leave right away, so there was no time for me to change back. I looked for a place to change on the way home, but there just wasn’t anywhere!”

“Well, you do look very pretty like that,” she said. “Kind of like Lindsey. Did you enjoy doing it?”

Thinking of the necking, I smiled, probably giving her exactly the wrong impression.

“I see,” she said. She had an interesting look on her face that I couldn’t interpret.

“I think you can get up to your room without your father and Lindsey seeing you. They’re in the den. Oh, and you might want to use cold cream on that makeup.”

“Thanks, Mom!” I said, and sneaked up the stairs to the bathroom. That hadn’t gone so badly.

In the bathroom I quickly changed, found the cold cream and started rubbing it all over my face. Seemed like it was working pretty well, much better than soap and water. I gave myself a little inspection and didn’t see any traces of makeup. At that point it hit me that even if I had found a place to change, I would have still walked in to the house wearing makeup!

-o0o-

That night Mary phoned me, and I asked her what the big deal was that they had to rush out of the house like that.

“It turned out to be so silly! Someone gave them tickets to a show while they were away, and they only got home in time to pick me up. And I didn’t really care about the show. I would rather have stayed on the bed with my girlfriend!”

Blushing furiously, I didn’t know how to respond to that.

“So did you get home okay?”

“Believe it or not, I had no problems. I couldn’t find anyplace to change, so I walked right in to the kitchen and my mom was there.”

“Oh no!”

“No, it was okay. I just told her the truth, she smiled and told me to use cold cream to get the makeup off.”

“Whew! I’m glad you were okay. I spent most of the time after we left worrying about you.”

There was a pause, while a nice warm feeling flooded over me.

“The funny thing is that after we got home my mom said we needed to talk, and then asked if I was a Lesbian! It was all I could do to keep from laughing.”

“But did she ask you to explain the smeared makeup?”

“I told her we had been experimenting with it and had gotten silly. That seemed to satisfy her. Oh, by the way, your name is Mindy. Naturally she asked me who my friend was.”

“Mindy? Man! Am I glad she didn’t recognize me!”

“Wellll, if she had, then I wouldn’t have had to listen to The Lesbian Talk.”

“I think there would have been a whole new talk though.”

She laughed.

“So, how about doing it again next weekend?” she asked.

“Wow, you’re really into this!”

“I really am! I loved the way you looked today, and it was so hot making out with you while you were dressed.”

“Oh, well, um, I liked it too.”

“I could tell!” she said, with a smile in her voice.

-o0o-

After that she managed to get me into various outfits when we had time to ourselves, dresses, skirts, you-name-it. I liked a lot of the clothes, especially knee length and longer type skirts; the minis made me feel too exposed. Mary enjoyed making me up, and trying different looks and hairstyles. I was really glad her parents were away every weekend! She said they were taking some kind of course for couples.

She figured out a way to make me look even less like Bobby, which was to put a pair of retro cat’s-eye glasses on me. Combined with the makeup and hairdos, she said no one at all would recognize me. She started calling me Mindy during these dress-up sessions, and worked with me on gestures, my walk… in other words, teaching me to act like a girl.

It wasn’t long until she began her campaign to get me to go outside all dressed up. Even though I had walked home the idea petrified me, but she kept at me until I agreed to walk around the block. And absolutely nothing happened! It felt a lot different being in a warm breeze wearing a sheer blouse and a skirt, and I mean different in a nice way.

Of course it didn’t stop there, and eventually she convinced me to take the bus with her to the mall in Hendley, the neighboring town, which was only about thirty minutes away. That was kind of fun. We just walked around, window shopping, and had a snack in the food court. Girls and boys both looked at me in a way I wasn’t used to… more appraisingly. The adults were different too, but I couldn’t put my finger on how, exactly.

Mary and I grew a lot closer during these sessions, and I decided I really liked being able to look like a girl. Still, I did kind of wonder when puberty would finally hit. It sure didn’t seem like I’d be able to keep doing this once I grew tall and hairy.

-o0o-

One afternoon, when just Mom and I were at home, out of the blue she asked me if I was still dressing up.

Knowing myself as I do, I’m sure my instant look of guilt was easy to read. I went ahead and admitted it.

“Yes, Mom.”

“How often?”

“Most weekends, when Mary’s parents are away.”

“Obviously you enjoy doing it, or you’d stop.”

“Well, I think it’s kind of fun being able to look like a girl. But I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to, since one of these days I’ll probably get big and hairy.”

“You sound sad about that.”

“Well, it’s been fun. We’ve even been out together.”

She looked alarmed at that.

“It’s okay, we’ve taken the bus to the mall in Hendley a couple of times, just to walk around and look at stuff.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? What if someone recognized you and attacked?”

“Mom, you didn’t even know me when you saw me dressed up. That’s why we went to Hendley instead of our mall. And we always stay together.”

She still didn’t look happy about it.

“Is this how you feel when Lindsey goes to the mall?”

“Lindsey has experience dealing with boys; you don’t.”

“The few times boys have spoken to us, Mary handles them. She’s pretty good at it!”

She looked at me without saying anything for a while.

“Should we be getting you your own clothes?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know about that. Mary doesn’t seem to mind me using hers.”

“Still, her clothes are not going to last as long with the two of you wearing them, not to mention shoes.” She paused. “I might enjoy going shopping with my other daughter!” she said, with a grin.

“But, like, you know, puberty? I’ll shoot up like Dad and you’ll have wasted that money on clothes I can’t wear.”

“Well, son—or daughter—you never know what lies ahead. Maybe you won’t end up ‘shooting up.’ My father, your grandpa Fred, was not very tall. In fact he was just about your height. You might end up taking after him. So what do you say? We could go get you a few outfits and some shoes.”

“I, um, gee, I don’t have any clothes here to shop in.”

“Well, Mary could go with us and help pick a few things out.”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind having some of my own clothes, but don’t you think Lindsey would end up finding out about it?”

“Bobby, I really hate to burst your bubble, but both Lindsey and I have noticed traces of makeup on you after you spend time with Mary, so I don’t think she would be that surprised.”

Great. All my extra care in eradicating all traces of Mindy, all for nothing!

“I’ll talk to Mary about it,” I told her.

-o0o-

“So, looks like I got myself a part-time sister,” said Lindsey, later that evening.

I glared at her, but she waved my glare away.

“Don’t worry. Mom told me not to tease you. I do like the idea of having a little sister though. I’d love to see you as your alter ego.”

“Linds, I’m really not planning on dressing up at home,” I assured her. “This is just something between me and Mary.”

“Am I such a terrible sister that you’d deny me this little pleasure?” she pouted, rather melodramatically.

Rolling my eyes, I told her, “No, Lindsey, you are, of course, an excellent sister, one of the best, but this is kind of private.”

“But Mom told me you two have gone outside—to the mall!”

Thanks, Mom!

“Who’s to say we might not, say, run into each other while you two are out and about?”

“I would say that I would hope the odds against that happening are astronomical. Please stop asking me about this.”

“Okay, sis. You know I’m just teasing, right?”

“Didn’t you just finish telling me that Mom told you not to tease me?”

“You remember that part, do you?” she said, with a mischievous grin. “Just let me know if you want to borrow any of my clothes,” she said, leaving the room. That was probably a joke too, since she was four inches taller than I was.

-o0o-

When Mary and I next talked on the phone, I told her Mom knew I was dressing up, and had offered to go shopping with me.

“Really? That’s great! I can think of some things I think you’d really look hot in!”

“Well, you’re invited to go with us, and I’m sure I could use your moral support.”

I held the phone from my ear as she squealed happily.

-o0o-

The way we arranged things was that on Saturday morning, I’d walk over to Mary’s and get ready. Then my mom would drive over and pick us up. We’d go to the mall in Penton, which was further away than Hendley, and even less likely to be a place we would run into anyone we knew.

After breakfast Saturday I walked to Mary’s, and soon she had me in a camisole, with a button-up blouse over it that had very few buttons, and a skirt. Just as we finished the makeup my mom pulled up, and we left the house.

Mom took a good look at me. She had only seen the original version, not the Mindy version, and she looked as if she wasn’t sure it was me.

“Yes, Mom, it’s me.” I waited a beat. “Mindy.”

“Mindy, is it? Well, Mindy, you look very nice. You too, Mary.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Nelson. I couldn’t let my girlfriend outshine me on a shopping trip, could I?”

“Of course not, Mary!”

We got to the Penton mall in about forty-five minutes. Between Mary and Mom I came away with four skirts, four blouses, three dresses, various items of lingerie, and two pair of shoes. I was afraid Mom was spending too much on me, but she seemed to be having a blast and waved my concerns away. She asked me to wear one of the new dresses out of the store.

On the way home, she detoured to a medical supply shop and had us wait in the car as she went in and bought a pair of breast forms. (B-cup, for those of you interested) “I want my daughter to have something high-quality to wear in her bra,” she said. “These can be glued on, in case you’d like to wear something revealing, Mindy.”

I was starting to get a little freaked out by how into me being her daughter she was. But I really couldn’t complain. She hardly seemed to have any problem at all with me dressing up, and really was supportive. Overenthusiastic, even.

All in all we had fun. I had never been an eager shopper before, but it was kind of exciting to try on different dresses and skirts, and enjoyable. It was weird for me to bring the clothes in to my own house, though, rather than to Mary’s, and I was very happy that Lindsey wasn’t home when we arrived. Also, I couldn’t make out how the clothes being at my house would work without Mary there. Did Mom think I was going to dress up on my own? (…Was I??) It just seemed like a lot of pitfalls were waiting to happen.

Mary helped me put the new clothes away, gave me a deep kiss, and after she left Mom came into my room and sat down with me.

“Mindy, I know you may have some questions about our shopping trip, but I just want you to know that there will be no problem if you want to be my daughter here at home.”

How did she know what I had been thinking?!

“Mom, I can’t dress up with Lindsey and Dad here! Dad wouldn’t like it, and Lindsey would probably give me grief from here to …um, eternity.”

“Lindsey has been told in no uncertain terms to keep any teasing thoughts to herself. As for your Dad, he knows what you’ve been doing.”

I felt myself pale, and a sense of dread came over me. Mom, of course, noticed.

“He says he doesn’t understand it, but doesn’t have a problem with it, and if it’s what you want to do, he will support you.”

Wow. I really felt like this was getting out of control. It was just some fun between me and Mary. I choked up a little.

“Mom, I… this is just for fun. I don’t want to be a girl, but I like being able to look like one. Sometimes.”

She put her arm around me. “Honey, I saw how comfortable you were today, and how naturally you acted. I’d guess that Mindy is a bigger part of who you are than you may realize. As long as you’re careful about it, I think this side of you is something worth exploring, even if it is just for fun. You must certainly already have more of an appreciation for the girl’s point of view than you did before.”

I thought for a minute.

“That’s true. People do react to me a lot differently when we’re out than what I’m used to.”

“And I’m happier knowing you’re not trying to hide this from me anymore.”

“Thanks Mom. I love you,” I said, resting my head on her shoulder. She stroked my hair.

“I love you too, Mindy.”

We heard the door downstairs, and I started to panic.

“Just relax, sweetheart. Let them meet their new daughter and sister. It’ll be okay.”

Lindsey was first upstairs, and stopped as she was walking past my door.

“Oh! Hi, little sis!” she smiled, coming in. “You look fantastic!”

“This is your sister, Mindy,” said Mom.

“Hi Mindy! Stand up and do a turn for me,” she said, twirling her index finger. “How did your shopping trip go? I like that dress.”

I turned around for her. “Pretty well, thanks. It’s all hanging in the closet, if you want to look.”

She walked over to the closet as we heard Dad’s foot on the stairs. I began to tremble.

“Shh. It’ll be fine,” said mom.

Dad appeared in the doorway. His eyes widened, seeing me.

“Bill, meet your daughter, Mindy.”

“Well, hello, Mindy. You look very nice. Come here and give your old man a hug.”

I slowly got up and went over to him. We hadn’t hugged for a long time, and I was feeling awkward, but he pulled me into a very warm hug, and whispered, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

I hugged him a little tighter. “Thank you,” I whispered back.

When we released each other he joked, “You know, this really beats other ways of finding out you have one more child than you were aware of.”

That released some tension, and we all laughed.

As he left the room, he said, “Mindy, this isn’t exactly what I meant, but now you know firsthand one of the many ways the opera can change your life!”

--Continued in Part Ii

Neil Gray was leading a pleasant life. He was thirty-two, happily married, and had a decent job as a systems analyst. He and his wife were doing well financially and each had an outside interest or two, which helped put spaces in their togetherness, to keep things happy. On his own Neil had studied some spiritual paths over the years to try and find some meaning in life itself, and learned what he could about karma, reincarnation, and the role love plays in all of it.

He and his wife, Tina, met at college, hit it off right away and started dating. A couple years out of college they married and bought a house. They both had jobs they enjoyed. They had tried and failed to have children.

Lurking behind this happy scene was Thomas Morton. He had dated Tina during college, and had always felt wronged—by Neil!—that she chose Neil over him. After all, he was the better man! He was bigger, more manly, had a sterling personality; why wouldn’t she marry him instead of that wimp? Neil must have done something, or said something about him to make Tina turn him down. A few years after college Thomas had a short marriage (to a woman who looked remarkably like Tina), which lasted three years until she tired of him and his toxic personality. So he had been alone these past four years, stewing. Once divorced he turned his attention back to Tina. It just wasn’t fair that she was married to that guy! This got under his skin and escalated until he really became obsessed. He decided to put together a plan to discredit Neil and prove to Tina she had made a mistake with him.

He got in touch with some people, made a few preparations, then contacted Neil and invited him for a drink. Neil, who was very surprised to hear from Thomas, told him he didn’t drink alcohol. Thomas said, “so just have a ginger ale. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Don’t tell Tina.”

Although Neil didn’t particularly like Thomas, or bars, he was nice enough to agree to meet him after work one Thursday at Eddie’s Bar. When he got there, Thomas was already there, in a booth, and had already ordered a ginger ale for Neil. He had also slipped a roofie into the drink, and in about a half hour Neil was totally out of it.

Thomas put in a phone call to Tina.

“Tina, Neil’s with me this evening, and he may be very late getting home, so don’t worry, okay?”

“Ooo-kay,” she said. “Can I talk with him a minute?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s in the restroom. I’ll ask him to call you.”

Tina thought it was pretty odd that Neil would meet up with Thomas, but put her unease aside.

Then Thomas put Neil’s arm over his shoulder, half-carried him out of the bar like a drunk, and shoved him into his car. He drove to his house, where a couple of women he had paid stripped Neil bare, got him into lingerie, a short red dress and heels. They did his hair, made him up kind of like a hooker and painted his nails.

Then a series of pictures were taken of Neil in very compromising positions with Thomas (body parts only) and a couple buddies of his. They looked realistic and very damning.

When this part of the plan was finished, late that night, Thomas carried him to the car, took him home, dumped him on his front doorstep, then disappeared. Neil lay there all night. One of Thomas’s friends anonymously called Tina at 6:30 a.m. to tell her someone was sleeping on her front stoop. She looked over and was surprised to see Neil wasn’t in bed. She put on a robe and opened the door to find Neil lying there. She was shocked at how he was dressed, and she noticed his lipstick was all smeared, making her wonder just what he had been up to. She knew he was a good man, but what was this? Had he been hiding another side of his life?

Neil was just coming around and had no idea what the hell was going on. He was gobsmacked to find himself dressed up like that, with Tina standing over him looking pretty disappointed.

“What in the world is happening? The last thing I remember I was going to meet Thomas at a bar.”

“What did you meet him for? So you could make out with him?” she said in a very unfriendly tone.

“Making out?? He just asked me out of the blue to meet him there, even though I told him I don’t drink.”

“I see,” she said, not really seeing.

“I have never lied to you,” he said.

When she just stood there with her arms crossed, he finally said, “I’m going to clean up,” unsteadily getting to his feet and lurching into the house. He used Tina’s cold cream to get rid of the makeup, and her nail polish remover, and then took a hot shower.

Tina took the time to phone Thomas to ask him what had happened.

“He said he was meeting you at a bar. Then he shows up on my doorstep dressed like a hooker? Do you know what this is about?”

“We didn’t meet at a bar, Tina; we met at a diner. I knew about Neil and his sexual preferences, and I was worried it was going to ruin your marriage. I asked him to meet me so I could try and talk him out of it,” Thomas said, sounding embarrassed.

Tina had to sit down, she was so stunned.

Thomas had arranged for someone else to anonymously send Tina the photos taken the night before. When she saw them she hit the roof and yelled at Neil to get out. She allowed him to pack a suitcase of clothes, but that was it.

-o0o-

Neil suddenly found himself without a home or wife. He really didn’t know what to do. He drove around aimlessly, in a thick mental fog, and then found a motel, where he checked in. He wasn’t even sure where he was. He didn’t even know what had happened to him while he was unconscious, yet he was getting all these repercussions.

Over the next few weeks Thomas went into action, playing the concerned friend to Tina. He explained to her that Neil had been with many men, even during college. This was a complete fabrication, and as close as Tina and Neil were back then, she should have known it was a lie. When she got steamed up about that he helped her find a divorce lawyer who essentially made Neil a pauper. Thomas also helpfully informed Neil’s workplace what he had been doing, and he was fired. Any friends Neil had abandoned him after hearing the gossip. He only got a glimmer of what had been done to him from their comments.

He ended up at a homeless shelter, sitting on a bed, numb, and thinking over the shambles his life had suddenly become. Being of a spiritual bent, he knew that something this drastic had to be big karmic payback for actions he had taken in this life or a past life. Although he was very unhappy about what had happened, he also knew that to get angry about it and look for revenge would only perpetuate the cycle. He reckoned he had wronged Thomas or Tina, or both of them at some point and was due this dark night of the soul. Before he went to sleep that night he inwardly asked whatever higher power there might be to give him a dream to explain this.

The dream he had was of a past life in the early nineteenth century—he was unable to tell in what country. Scenes flashed by. He saw a large man, richly dressed, strutting through a mansion. As he looked at the man, he suddenly saw the scene through the man’s eyes, and realized it was him in this former lifetime. He knew he was a selfish jerk, not much concerned with others or their needs. He knew he was the owner of a large estate and thousands of acres of land.

A servant he recognized as being Thomas in this lifetime was one of his young footmen and Tina was a housemaid. As the master of the house he found Tina attractive, and although he was married, he forced himself on her, thinking nothing of it; it was just one of the privileges of being the master. There wasn’t much she could do about it without losing her position. Thomas was fond of her, and tried to protect her, so he fired Thomas and made sure he would never get work as a house servant, at least in that area. Tina became pregnant with his child, so he let her go.

When Neil awoke the next day he remembered the dream, which had seemed very realistic, and was mortified that he had acted so cruelly. This situation he found himself in was indeed payback. He made a conscious decision to forgive Thomas and Tina, accept the payback, and move on.

-o0o-

Over the next few months Neil found temp work with the local Minutemen agency as a laborer while he stayed at the shelter. He saved every penny he could, and was eventually able to move to a new city to really start over. He found a menial job there and a slum to live in and began to rebuild his life.

As time went on he tried finding work in his field, but was turned down every time. He figured this was somehow connected to that load of karma, since he was well-qualified. So he ultimately found himself a job on a construction site, as a laborer. This paid much better than the jobs he’d been getting, and he was able to build up a small savings and move to an apartment that was a step up from the slum.

As the years passed he graduated to better jobs in construction and became happy enough with his life. He got himself pets so he could have a way to give and receive love, and avoided romance and women. He led a very quiet life. In this way thirty-five years passed.

When he retired he began volunteering at the local hospice, helping people who were close to death be as comfortable as they could be.

-o0o-

A new patient arrived one day, and to Neil’s shock he recognized it was Tina. She was a mere shadow of her former self, in addition to being terminally ill. Momentarily the old feelings of betrayal rose up, but he was able to take a breath and let it go. He asked the volunteer coordinator that he not be assigned to her. He didn’t want his presence to upset her.

Tina did see him passing by from time to time, but it was two weeks before she realized it was Neil. It brought back their whole history, and how she had been manipulated into wronging him.

-o0o-

After she had kicked Neil out it hadn’t taken long for Thomas to reveal his true nature to her.

“You deserved better than to be with a gay schmuck like him,” he told her. That rubbed her the wrong way, even though she had made the decision to kick Neil out.

And it also didn’t take very long before she realized how unbalanced Thomas was. He tried to move right in on her, and even proposed to her while the dust was still settling, which she found a bit odd and incredibly insensitive. She began to wonder if somehow Thomas was connected with what had happened to Neil.

He kept coming over to her house, and when she wasn’t that receptive toward him, he started to get abusive. Eventually she had to take out a restraining order against him. He violated the order more than once, and ended up in jail. In the shared cell he boasted to his cellmate how he had set Neil up and ruined him.

“My girlfriend’s husband was a wimp and a real weasel, ever since college, but I couldn’t get her to see it. So listen to this: I drugged him, got him made up like a hooker and had some really spicy pictures taken of him! Once she saw those, it was all over between them!”

Thomas kept going on about what a triumph this was, and how clever he was, neglecting to mention that he was in jail because the “girlfriend” found him violent and kind of crazy.

This cellmate was in jail for a minor infraction, and he just listened. When he got out he let the District Attorney’s office know what he had been told. Thus the information got back to Tina, who now realized the full extent of her betrayal. She was incredibly angry with Thomas for ruining her marriage and for doing this awful thing to such a nice guy. It never crossed her mind that she had had the option of believing her husband.

She had no idea where she could find Neil, and if she could find him, what could she possibly say? ‘I’m sorry’ just didn’t seem like it would be enough.

Tina tried to get on with her life, but it took years for her to try and forgive herself for her actions. She did remarry, about four years later, but the marriage lasted only five years. She was too afraid to really give herself to another man, and this man got tired of waiting.

By the time thirty years had passed she was having health issues. First breast cancer, then she’d be clean for a while, but the cancer kept coming back, until she was told she was terminal, at which point she opted for hospice care.

-o0o-

At hospice she noticed a man passing in the hallways who seemed vaguely familiar, but it took two weeks of tiny glimpses before she realized it must be Neil. She asked an aide to have him come and visit her.

Neil was surprised to get the request to see Tina, but he went to her room.

He stepped inside and they looked at each other.

“Neil,” she said, and burst into tears.

He wasn’t sure what to do to comfort her.

“How can I ever apologize enough for what I did to you?”

“Try not to dwell on those things,” he said. “You already have enough on your plate, and I forgave you years ago.”

“Do you even know all that that bastard Thomas did? He set you up, drugged you, got you dressed up, took pictures…”

“Please, Tina, I’d rather not hear about it. It was all so long ago and I have moved on.”

“How can you be so calm about it?” she asked.

“It didn’t take me long to realize it had to be karma coming back to bite me. I had obviously wronged both you and Thomas in another lifetime, and I was getting my just desserts.”

He didn’t think there was any reason to go into detail about the dream he had had.

Tina now remembered how into spiritual things Neil had been. Still, it was hard for her to understand how he could not be angry.

“Did you end up having a good life?” she asked.

“I was content with my lot,” was all he would say.

“Did you remarry?”

“No.”

She felt like that was her fault too, and he could sense that.

“Please try not to beat yourself up about this, Tina. It’s all over and done with, and you need to be content and relaxed now. Things worked out as they undoubtedly were meant to.”

This didn’t really make her feel a whole lot better, but she was glad Neil wasn’t angry with her and had forgiven her.

He stood up to leave, as his shift was over.

“Come and see me again?” she asked.

“Sure,” he smiled.

That smile. It had been decades since she had seen it, and she had missed it. It made her smile too. Smiles had been few and far between for her, and this helped release some of the emotional load she’d been carrying for years.

-o0o-

When Neil came in two days later he stopped at Tina’s room, but her bed was empty. She had died the same night he visited. He was glad she was able to let go of enough of her negative emotions to be able to die. He also recognized that meeting her again was the last little piece of that karma for him. And she needed to be able to apologize before she could release her guilt.

Neil sighed, turned and went down the hall to read to his next patient.

The End.
.
.
After I finished this it occurred to me that it’s a rewrite of an earlier story of mine. However, I think it’s sufficiently different that I don’t mind posting it. I just hope it’s finished!

Landing On Her Feet

“Farfetched” – Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper
“Weak ending” –New York World

Philip leaves his intolerant family to start a new life on the coast. Is his sister Vivian as bad as the rest? Time will tell.

“I’m in!!” Philip cheered, having successfully just hacked his way into the computer network where his father worked. Now to poke around and see what was there, and if there were any other barriers.

By the time he reached high school Philip Cochran discovered he had a real talent for computer hacking. The whole concept seemed to come easily to him and he seemed to instinctively understand how everything worked. Thirsty for knowledge he learned all he could about it, from whoever knew anything, and was very fortunate not to get caught poking around where he had no business being. He wasn’t hacking to disrupt or steal any information; it was all about the thrill of getting past all the increasingly sophisticated security measures.

In college he took computer science courses such as computation, fundamentals of computer science, compilers and operating systems, and so many more—essentially any and all things relating to computers. Upon graduation he returned home to Buffalo and shortly was headhunted by Bolden Inc., a strong national firm which had a large department devoted to testing security limits of their client companies.

-o0o-

Not one person knew that Philip had struggled silently all his life with gender identity issues. For self-preservation he’d been able to act like a fairly regular—if nerdy—boy growing up. No, he didn’t have much in the way of friends, but he wasn’t called names or bullied, just left alone.

And now that he had a good job and was out from under the parental roof he decided to do something about the issue. In short order Gender Dysphoria was diagnosed and some options laid before him. Living as a woman was not something which he had ever allowed to surface in his mind, because his parents were religious fundamentalists, and he had grown up with his father’s disfavor heavy on his shoulders. Disapproval of his slight frame and lack of strength, lack of interest in boy things, macho things, sports… the list went on. His father wasn’t one hundred percent bad, but that sense of disapproval overlaid much of his childhood, and it was in stark contrast to how his older brothers, Jeff and Tim, were treated. They were both rather like clones of their father: large, muscular, macho. They were encouraged and congratulated on all their manly activities. Philip didn’t feel like his parents gave him much attention at all, other than rules and disapproval. Therefore he always felt like a second-class citizen in the Cochran home.

His mother always seemed to go along willingly with whatever his father decreed. At the very least she never expressed an opinion contrary to his. To her, he was The Man and the head of household. His word was law there.

Jeff and Tim had no use at all for him growing up, and mostly ignored his existence. If they had to talk to him, they only called him Runt. His younger sister, Vivian, was the apple of the old man’s eye. Yet he even treated her as if she was incapable of serious thought, in spite of her obvious intelligence, college degree and good job. Philip and Vivian were only fourteen months apart, and were friendly, but she knew on which side her bread was buttered, and tried not to upset the natural order within the house. So she was not as supportive as Philip might have liked. For some reason family seemed important to Philip while growing up, but as he entered his ‘teens and the years passed he realized he would never have their approval.

Jeff and Tim, both in their late twenties, still lived in the parental home, and were considered successes in their blue-collar jobs, while both Philip and Vivian had moved out as soon as humanly possible. While they were not thought of as failures, they were very undervalued. Both were periodically invited for Sunday dinners with the other four.

And thus it was that when, after a dinner at the parents’ house, Philip got his nerve up and announced to his family his diagnosis of Dysphoria, and that he intended to explore gender alternatives, unsurprisingly not a voice spoke up to support him. His father’s face darkened.

“You little faggot! I’m coming up for a promotion at work, and I can’t afford to be seen as the father of a pervert. Can‘t you control yourself?”

Once it became clear that the discussion was about Philip the brothers’ attention was elsewhere; they weren’t even listening. Vivian couldn’t even meet his eyes and looked embarrassed. His mother seemed to have the same expression on her face that you’d expect if she had happened to step in dog poo.

“C’mon Dad, tell me what you really think,” Philip said, in a show of bravado.

“Why you little shit—” his father began, and started to get up.

Philip didn’t really see any point in continuing the discussion, which wasn’t actually a discussion at all.

“I am finished with you all,” he announced, and walked out.

-o0o-

“Could’ve gone worse,” he said to himself, as he drove away. There was no violence, at least. Ever since high school Philip had begun to dissociate himself from the family. The constant disapproval was very wearing… hard on the spirit. The disregard of his existence by his brothers was only business as usual, so that was no loss. Vivian he wasn’t sure about. He had thought they were close, but heck, she couldn’t even look him in the eye, and certainly didn’t speak up for him. Still, he would reserve judgment on her. Obviously it was just too much to ask for the slightest acceptance from those people. He didn’t wish them ill, but he also couldn’t see any up side in having them a part of his life anymore. Going over the scene again in his head he was surprised his father had not brought up religious objections. Instead it was all about how he would be perceived by his employers.

Over the next few weeks Philip applied for a transfer to the west coast office, and as Bolden had a very good non-discrimination policy, he conferred with the Human Resources department about the possibility of starting work on the coast as a woman. Then he wrapped up affairs at his current residence. The transfer went through, and he was gone.

-o0o-

Once in Los Angeles he lost no time in locating an LGBT-friendly medical office, and then started his Real Life Experience. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, but living as a woman was definitely something he needed to try.

Being very curious, he contacted a dressing service to at least find out what he might look like as a she. What surprised him most was that the instant he put on the new clothes he felt better. It was a revelation. Looking in the mirror, once hair and makeup had been finished, reinforced that revelation. This was who she was! Everything about her appearance suddenly made sense! And there was so very much to learn. Naming herself Penelope she resolved to give this lifestyle a very, very serious try. If things didn’t work out, she still didn’t have to be a so-called ‘Man.’ Androgynous might work. At any rate, Penny would need a friend to help her find her way. Her therapist suggested several ways of finding people who might help mentor her.

Many months down the road, once she had mastered the very basic basics of presenting as a woman, she set about doing something for her family. She had been thinking of them a lot, and decided there was not one reason she could think of why she would want to see them again. Other than Vivian—maybe—none of them even seemed to like her. She wrote an anonymous but somewhat bitter letter to them.

To the Cochran family,

As a friend of Philip Cochran I am writing to inform you of his accidental death. He had been depressed lately, and was hit by a car when crossing the street. I was told he died instantly.

Philip told me how poorly his family treated him, so I am guessing his death will mean very little to you, but I thought you should know. As his friend I will take care of his funeral expenses, so you don’t need to worry about having to pay for your own child’s burial.

Please don’t interpret the postmark as an indicator of where Philip lived. This letter is simply as a courtesy to you, not because I think you deserve it.

Leaving it unsigned, Penny put the envelope in another envelope and sent it to a college friend in Arizona, and asked for the letter to be sent from there.

She felt that with her death her father wouldn’t be troubled anymore at work about having a pervert for a son. No one would feel the necessity to ignore their own brother anymore. And in a way it was true that Philip was dead.

There was something that felt very final about sending this letter. In one way it seemed drastic, but she found it impossible to imagine any tears being shed over her.

Time to really get on with her life.

-o0o-

When her mother called Vivian to read her the letter about Philip’s death she was grief-stricken. She had felt terrible about herself ever since that day he walked out. She should have spoken up for him, but she didn’t like rocking the boat, and she was afraid of her father’s reaction, especially after the names he had called Philip. Maybe if she had tried harder to stay in touch and be his friend he wouldn’t have dropped all contact and gotten depressed. She felt like a traitor. Then she felt a real anger toward her father building.

Letting the anger spur her, she drove to her parents’ house to confront him. Striding into the house she found him there, lounging in his favorite recliner and watching ESPN. She stood in front of him.

“Thanks to your bigoted attitude Philip is dead!”

He didn’t appear too annoyed with her interruption, and now, taking a good look at him, he seemed to have less tension than she was used to seeing. He looked at her, standing there.

“He was an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. No great loss.”

She stood there gaping at him for a while. It was just too hard to believe that anyone could think of their own child that way.

“If that’s really the way you feel, if that is your true so-called Christian attitude, then we have nothing more to say to each other. Today you just lost another of your children. I can’t believe you even have a heart.”

Now he just gave her a pitying smile. It was apparent he didn’t take her seriously, but she walked out of the house as Philip had a year or so earlier, went ahead and removed herself from her parents’ lives. Her mother, as usual, apparently agreed with her father. She hadn’t spoken up at all during that family meeting, but Vivian had felt the distaste for Philip in her mother’s manner. And when she had read Vivian the letter she didn’t seem very sorry about his death either. Jeff and Tim had hardly any more use for her than for Philip. She wouldn’t be surprised if by now they didn’t recall they had even had a brother. It was also hard to imagine them taking any woman seriously.

-o0o-

In Los Angeles things were going as well as could be expected for Penny. She was learning more about being a woman all the time, and it just felt right to her. ‘Why did I wait so long to try this?’ she asked herself. She knew very well why, but she couldn’t help asking herself.

Around the time she broke up with her family she had installed spyware on her sister’s computer, and she would check her sister’s e-mail every couple months, just to keep tabs on what was going on. Partly this was because she couldn’t actually believe that Vivian was that shallow, and partly that she hoped Vivi would someday have a change of heart.

About a year after the move to California she was surprised to read, in an e-mail Vivi had sent to her friend Charlotte, that she had cut her family off. She blamed them for Philip’s death. Her mother persisted in calling to invite her to family dinners, as if her cutting them off was just a silly notion, so she was thinking of changing her phone number. She was even considering finding a job in another city to put some distance between her and her parents. She wrote that the more she thought about them, the more she found herself at odds with their cavalier attitude toward Philip’s death, and their lack of love.

Well well, this was interesting. Maybe Vivi hadn’t spoken up for her that day because she was scared, but she had apparently gotten braver since then.

The next time she invaded Vivi’s e-mail there was a letter to Charlotte about how much she missed Philip, and how guilty she felt about her lack of support.

An idea of how to help Vivian began forming in her mind. Vivian worked for a multinational corporation, in accounting. What if Penny could get her a job here at the west coast office of Bolden? This would help her start a new life, if she wished.

Penny had a good reputation at her company. There had been no hiccups at all from her change from Philip to Penny, although changing locations had probably helped a lot. So when she inquired about a job for her sister, Personnel was receptive. They sent Vivian a job offer. Penny realized this might come across as very odd, but maybe Vivian wouldn’t question it. She wasn’t sure Vivian was even aware that Bolden was her company.

-o0o-

As it turned out, Vivian was not surprised by the offer. She had sent out so many résumés she had forgotten which companies she had sent them to. This offer from Bolden sounded good, and they had offered to fly her out to California for an interview. (Penny had actually paid for the ticket, and Personnel had gone along with it.)

Vivian flew out to John Wayne Airport, in Santa Ana, and was met by a company driver. She was taken to a hotel (also provided by Penny) where she cleaned up and rested after her flight. The interview would be the next morning.

The phone in her room rang.

“Ms. Cochran?”

“This is she.”

“This is Sarah Parks, from Bolden. I’ve been asked to invite you to dinner with one of our employees in the hotel’s restaurant at 6:15 p.m. Would you be available?”

“Oh! Well, yes, of course! Thank you, that would be great.”

“Excellent. Penelope, a Bolden staff member, will meet you at the restaurant then. She has your picture so she’ll know you.”

“Thank you very much!”

-o0o-

Penny’s heart rate was way up as she waited down in the restaurant for Vivian to appear. Would Vivi scream? Faint? Was this really the best venue to have a reunion?

She was in a navy blue, conservative skirt suit. Her hair and makeup were done to the best of her ability. She wasn’t sure Vivian would recognize her, but any minute now she would find out.

Just then she saw Vivi leaving the elevator and starting toward the restaurant. Her eyes darted around to look for someone she didn’t know.

As she reached the entrance and walked in Penny approached her with her hand out and smiled.

“Ms. Cochran? Welcome to Los Angeles. I’m Penny, from Bolden.”

Vivi automatically smiled and put her hand out to shake, and then took a good look at Penny. Her eyes got very wide and her hand slowed down. She stared hard at Penny as they just held hands, frozen in the middle of the handshake. Penny looked just like… and she had the same small mole near her left ear… but this couldn’t be…

“Penny? Phili…?” she said slowly, staring at her, as her other hand went to cover her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh. My. God,” she whispered.

Penny pulled her into a hug.

“It’s okay, sis,” Penny said into her ear, as they continued to hug.

“How…wh…”

“I’ll tell you all about it.”

“How… how can you even stand to look at me?”

“Vivi, I’m sure you were scared to speak up that day, but I never felt you were like the rest of them.”

They released each other, and Vivian went into her purse for a tissue. The maître’d came over and showed them to a booth. Vivian kept looking at Penny and trying to get her emotions under control.

“I thought you were dead.”

“That was for dad’s benefit. With me dead he couldn’t be embarrassed by me, or blame me for his not getting a promotion.”

“I can’t believe you would think of doing anything for him. I hate to tell you this, but when I confronted him about your death, he told me ‘no great loss.’”

“Ooh. That really is a blow…Ha! Kidding! Nothing like the love of a parent, is there? Well, he wasn’t totally bad; he never beat us. However, now that you tell me that I’d say…maybe just ninety-nine-point nine percent bad. But I’m glad they’re all out of my life. It wasn’t fun trying to live up to his expectations, and to try and be someone I wasn’t.”

“I presume by that you mean to try and act like a macho dumbbell?”

“Good choice of words, Vivi. You know about my diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria. When I came out here I took action and decided this was exactly what I needed to do,” she said, gesturing at her body. “And once I tried it, it felt so natural. So much more comfortable than trying to be a man. I made the right decision. But what about you and the family, Vivi?”

“I, I cut them off,” said Vivian. “I blamed them for your death.”

Penny looked at her.

“Now that you know the truth, are you sorry?”

She lifted her chin. “No, not a bit! They never treated you well.”

“Vivi, did they treat you well?”

“Well, in the context of the family I was treated well, at least I was if I behaved like a good little girl with no brains. Jeff and Tim and I were treated better than you, but you were like the, um, Cinderella of the family.” She looked at Penny. “Your dress sense has really improved since those days,” she giggled.

“Hah! What I’m getting at, Vivi, is, did you cut yourself off just for my sake? And because of something that never happened?” she asked gently.

“But Penny, something did happen! Not one of them were sorry to see you walk out. I doubt that you were given a thought after that day. But I felt the loss, believe me! I may have sucked at showing you my support, but I missed you, and I felt so awful when I learned of your death. It really brought home to me how I failed you. Plus, when I confronted dad, he just treated me like a stupid little girl who knew nothing.”

Penny put her hand over Vivian’s.

“That’s all over now. Do you think you’ll take the job here?”

Vivian narrowed her eyes. Something about this whole situation…

“This was all you, wasn’t it! The job offer and all.”

“Of course!”

“Well then, I’d love to live out here, and work with you.”

“Vivi, um, before you agree to anything, I need to come clean to you about something.”

“I can’t imagine what.”

“I hacked into your e-mail on several occasions. I wanted to keep track of you, and when I learned about you cutting the family out of your life, I thought you could do with a new lifeline. I’m sorry.”

Vivian thought about it.

“You know what? I’m okay with it. I doubt there was anything so confidential that I would feel bad about my sister reading it. And if the result is that we’re together again, then I’m really good with it!” she said, beaming.

“Thank you, sis. That really is a load off my mind. And let me add that, if you are interested, you can live with me. I have plenty of room.”

“You really are a remarkable person, Penny. I would love to live with you. By the way, I really like the name you chose! Somehow it just fits you. And you look absolutely great.”

The two enjoyed their dinner, and Penny caught her up on the progress of her transition.

“I had never seriously thought about becoming a woman, especially growing up with our parents, but I certainly knew being a man was a bad fit. If I had had anything in mind it was just something very…androgynous. The very first time I was all dressed up, though, I just knew it was right for me.”

“I’m glad, Penny. It seems to work pretty well for you.”

After the meal they strolled around the area a bit and then Penny saw her up to her room.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight, sis, and we’ll get breakfast.”

They hugged again, a very heartfelt hug, and Penny left.

-o0o-

Vivian was feeling incredible after the last few hours. Her favorite brother-now-sister had returned from the dead, doubling what family they both now had. She had a job—well, she almost had a job, and it was in sunny California. Not only that, but a place to live without having to scramble all over house-hunting in an area she knew nothing about. Things were really looking rosy!

-o0o-

The job interview went very well and Vivian was hired on the spot. She had to fly back to Buffalo and tie up the loose ends, pack up and move, and that was done over the next two weeks. She didn’t inform her parents about any of this, and decided to go ahead and get herself a new phone number, since her mother refused to get the message that her calls weren’t welcome. As if nothing had changed, la la la.

Penny’s place was pretty nice. It was a cute little house in Pasadena, with lots of light and a good view of mountains, something Vivian wasn’t used to seeing, and which she found calming and refreshing. And Penny refused to accept any money from her for letting her share her home. Yeah, there were a lot of elderly people there, but Penny enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere.

Vivian had fun getting to know Penny-the-woman, and the two would go places together and explore, have dinners at new restaurants, attend events. They got along famously, much better than they had as brother and sister, when survival was the main concern on both their minds.

Being sensitive to her sister’s needs, Penny didn’t want Vivian to live there solely to be her companion. It was wonderful, but Vivian might want something more than that from life.

-o0o-

The sisters commuted to work together most days, and frequently had lunch together. On one occasion Penny asked a fellow employee, Steve Fruhling, to lunch with them. Each time she talked to Steve her mind automatically starting thinking of Vivian. Thinking that he and Vivian might just hit it off, lunch seemed like the ideal place for an introduction. She turned out to be right about her feeling, and Steve lunched with the two of them often after that. He and Vivian started dating and quickly became serious about each other.

After that Steve was over to their house a lot. As the months passed Vivi didn’t want to intrude on Penny’s lifestyle, so they were also frequently at Steve’s place. She felt kind of bad that Penny had no one, and that if things kept on as they were going, she would marry Steve and move out, leaving Penny alone. Now that she thought of it, she couldn’t remember Philip ever having a single date.

“Penny, I haven’t seen you date at all since I’ve been here. What’s the deal?”

“I’m just not looking for a relationship, Vivi. Us computer nerds are often loners.”

Vivi looked at her skeptically. “All right, Sis, what’s the real reason?”

There was a short, uncomfortable silence. Penny didn’t want to lie to her sister.

“Vivi, I, uh, I like women, but statistically there are not many genetic women who are at all interested in transwomen. Some lesbians and feminists are actually quite nasty to us, as if transwomen are trying to take over their territory or something. There are groups of them which even want to exclude us from LBGTQ events, as if there was no ‘T’ in the acronym. I learned about all this after I moved out here, and while I don’t like the behavior, I’m not losing sleep over it. It’s more important for me to feel like who I truly am than to try and fake being a man in order to get a date. Or to pretend to be a genetic woman to attract a lesbian, or to be attracted to men, which I am not.

“I have loved having you out here and living with you, and I hope that when you move out you’ll stay close enough for us to continue to see each other. Anyhow, there are worse things than being an old maid.”

Vivian was again struck by how remarkable and selfless a woman her sister was. She gave her a big hug.

“Thanks so much for everything you’ve done for me, sis,” she murmured. “You’ve changed my life.”

“Well, uh, what are older sisters for?”

-o0o-

When Vivian and Steve decided to tie the knot, they thought a small, simple wedding would be more appropriate than the big and expensive kind. After all, there was no father to walk Vivian down the aisle, and no mother to fuss over her. So just Penny, and Steve’s immediate family would be there – his parents and sister, Marti. And it would be outside.

When they all met at Steve’s parents’ house for a meal, Penny was impressed with the family. They all seemed very nice, they really seemed to be taken with Vivian, which made Penny very happy. Vivian deserved a loving family. Marti was harder to read; she did seem nice, but Penny was getting some funny signals from her, and she didn’t know what to make of them.

Once she and Vivian were back home she asked about Marti.

“Sis, what do you know about Steve’s sister?”

“I like her. She has some job in the medical field. Why?”

“I ask because I just couldn’t get a solid feeling about who she is. I wonder if she ‘read’ me. Being in the medical field she might have seen something that I’m not aware of.”

“Don’t worry about it, Penny. I know her well enough to know she’s not going to ruin our wedding with any anti-trans rants. She must run across trans patients all the time, don’t you think?”

“No idea. Sorry, Vivi, I don’t want to borrow trouble. I’ll just behave as well as I can.”

But she did keep thinking about it. So far she had been very lucky that no one had clocked her.

-o0o-

On the day of the wedding the sisters drove together and met the Fruhlings at the park, along with a Justice of the Peace. The ceremony didn’t take long, and everyone smiled when the J.P. said he needed to see the marital seal. (the kiss!) Then it was back to the Fruhling’s house, where a feast was ready for the wedding party and invited guests, numbering about twenty five.

Eventually Marti sought out Penny and spent time with her. Penny still was unsure if Marti wanted something from her, and if so, what? So she was as pleasant as she could be. The very last thing she wanted was to cause any kind of rupture between the families.

“So Penny,” said Marti. “You work with Steve at Bolden?”

“Not exactly with him, but we’re both employed there, yes. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an anesthetist.”

“Is that the same thing as a gas passer?”

Marti laughed. “No, that’s the anesthesiologist. Where did you hear that term?”

“Believe it or not I read it in M*A*S*H, the book.”

“Funny, but then, Richard Hooker was a real doctor.

Then, switching gears…

“You know, Penny, you seem nervous.”

“Mmm. No.”

“If it’s because you’re trans, don’t worry; I have nothing against transwomen.”

Penny’s blood froze, and she tried to cover up her shock, but Marti saw it.

“Why don’t you have a seat over here, Penny. I’m sorry if I startled you, but as a medical professional I can see the signs. The very small signs, I should add.”

Penny had no idea how to respond. She just sat there while her heart slowed back down. Marti rubbed her back a little.

“And let me guess, the reason you have no family here today is because your parents couldn’t stomach the truth.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly, Marti; you’re very perceptive. I never really felt like I was a part of that family, so the same day I came out to them I ended up disowning them. Then Vivian did too, to support me.”

“Sad. But I’m glad you two have each other.”

“Thank you; so am I. I was telling her I hope she doesn’t move too far away from me when she’s married to Steve.”

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any plans to move. From what I hear, Bolden is a good company to work for.”

“Oh, it is, it is.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Penny, do you have anyone special in your life?”

“No, I’m fine being on my own.” This was her standard line, the one that she was trying to convince herself of.

Marti looked at her skeptically, but she didn’t respond to the look.

“Well, you’re a good-looking girl. Someone will come along.”

Penny smiled at her, though she had no faith at all in that prediction.

They continued talking for another twenty minutes, and Penny relaxed. She really liked Marti. There was a calmness about her, and a sharp, practical mind which Penny admired.

Vivian and Steve got ready to leave. She took her suitcase from Penny’s car. They were going to drive up to Lake Tahoe for their honeymoon.

The sisters hugged each other, and Penny shed a few tears at the thought of her little sister going off on her marital adventure.

“Be safe, sis.”

“Thanks, and thanks for everything, Penny.”

She gave Steve a hug too, then they left, and Penny drove home.

-o0o-

It took a couple of difficult months for her to make the adjustment back to living alone. Living with Vivi had been very pleasant, so unlike growing up in the Cochran home. But she had lived alone before, and she could do it again. Once Vivian was back home, living with Steve, in their new house, and at work, they went back to having lunch together, many times with Steve. Yes, she was lonely, but being lonely was just something she had decided to accept as the price of living the life she was now living.

Vivian and Steve had dinners pretty regularly, and Penny was often invited, as was Marti. They got to know each other better and Marti could sense her loneliness, which she tried to hide in a show of joviality. About six months after the wedding they were both at Vivian’s house, talking before dinner.

“Penny, do you ever get out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean socialize. How are you ever going to meet someone if you don’t make yourself available?”

“Oh, Marti, I’m a computer nerd; I spend a lot of time on my computer.”

“And you also spend all day at work on it. Aside from the fact that it’s probably not that healthy, it isn’t doing you any good as far as meeting someone.”

“I don’t know much about socializing, and growing up I never had any friends to socialize with.”

“You could learn…”

By now they knew each other well enough for Penny to let down her guard.

“Marti,” she sighed, “I’m attracted to women, but I learned early on that a lot of lesbians won’t tolerate transwomen. I don’t want to get started in a relationship and then find out they hate me for what I am, completely ignoring who I am.”

“Sadly you’re right that that can happen.”

“So I keep to myself. I told Vivi a while back that it was more important for me to be true to myself than to worry about being an old maid.”

Marti giggled. “Well there’s an old-fashioned term!”

“I can’t help but notice you’re always on your own as well.”

“Well, my job is pretty demanding, but I do date. So far I haven’t come across Mr. Right. I’m still hoping to, though,” she smiled.

“I wish you the best in that, Marti. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.”

“Likewise, Penny.”

-o0o-

About eight months after that both Marti and Penny found themselves at Vivi and Steve’s house for another dinner, and this time Marti brought along a friend, a tall, very good-looking woman with long, wavy chestnut hair.

“Penny, I’d like you to meet my friend, Christy. We went to high school together and have kept in touch. She loves computers too.”

“Pleased to meet you, Christy. I’m not sure what Marti means by ‘loves computers.’ I hope she doesn’t mean you have a computer as a lover!”

Christy giggled. “Not exactly, no. I use my computer for art projects.”

“Cool.”

Marti went to talk with Vivian, leaving the two alone.

“So Penny, what’s your deal with computers?”

“Oh, I test security for client firms’ websites, to see how hackable they are. Then we suggest ways for them to beef up their security.”

“Sounds interesting. Where are you from?”

“Buffalo, New York, originally. And you?”

“California girl, born and bred.”

The two found they had a lot to talk about. Marti looked over at them. She had a feeling they would get along well. Some months previously she had discussed gender issues with Christy—very circumspectly—to feel her out on the issue of transwomen, and she said she had no animosity towards them. So, now let nature take its course.

-o0o-

As they talked, Penny found herself more and more attracted to Christy. Of course she wasn’t going to do anything about it, but having another friend would be nice. From the vibes she was getting from Christy it was obvious to Penny that she was a lesbian, and that she liked her too. It was hard being attracted to someone who might go off on her if she found out about her past.

Christy did like Penny, and found her very attractive. After the dinner they spoke on the phone and e-mailed and texted each other, but as time passed she was having trouble understanding why their relationship wasn’t moving forward. Other than shopping, Penny would come up with excuses whenever she suggested dates, but she was positive Penny liked her the same way she liked Penny. So what was the issue?

She turned to Marti for help.

“Do you know why Penny won’t go out with me? I can tell she’s interested.”

This was tough. It wasn’t Marti’s place to out Penny to her. What should she say?

“Christy, I do know what the issue is, but it’s not up to me to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll have to confront her yourself. And I think if you do, the outcome will be positive.”

Well, that was encouraging. Christy didn’t like confrontations any more than the average person, but for this she thought she could manage.

-o0o-

Christy phoned Penny.

“Penny, I’d like to come over and talk to you.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It isn’t, really. There’s just something on my mind and I’d like to discuss it with you in person. Would it be okay if I came to your house?”

“Ah…sure.”

She gave Christy the address, and then automatically scurried around the house tidying things up.

Christy arrived about a half hour later, and it was such a beautiful day that Penny decided to bring her outside to a shaded table in the backyard garden, even after doing all the tidying inside.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

They settled themselves down and Christy got right to the point.

“Penny, I really like you, and I think you like me too.”

Penny shyly nodded.

“But you turn me down every time I bring up dating. Can you please tell me why?”

“I, um, had some bad experiences when I was first out here, and I just don’t want to go through that again.”

“I’m sorry, Penny,” she said. She put her hand on Penny’s, but Penny slipped her hand out from underneath, though there was nothing she would rather have done than leave it there.

Christy ignored that and asked, “Can you tell me what the trouble was? Maybe I could help you get over it.”

Penny was torn. She really did want to have a closer relationship with Christy, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Christy turning on her for daring to be a woman. On the other hand, right now they were just friends. Losing a friend would be better than losing a lover. Wouldn’t it??

She took a deep breath. “Okay, Christy. The reason that I’m leery of relationships is that I’m trans, and some lesbians I was friendly with turned on me like I was the devil when they found out.” She sat back, expecting the worst.

Christy was somewhat shocked. That explanation had never crossed her mind. Then she smiled.

“Oh honey, you being trans is not a problem for me.” She grabbed Penny’s hand again. “I like who you are, and I feel a real connection with you. I know the kind of people you’re talking about and I never understood their hatred towards transwomen.”

Penny could hardly believe this. She knew there must be lesbians out there who didn’t hate people like her, but she despaired of ever meeting one.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Yes, really.” Christy moved her chair closer to Penny’s and gently kissed her.

“I never expected to meet someone…” she trailed off, and stared into Christy’s eyes.

“Well, now you have, and I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together!”

Christie took the lead, and they spent the rest of the visit kissing and snuggling.

-o0o-

The next time Vivian and Steve had a dinner, Penny asked if she could bring a friend. Of course the answer was yes. Vivian was somewhat surprised she had asked, since she never had anyone to come with before. She was even more surprised to see Christy arrive with Penny. The way they stayed close to each other and held hands told her they were now an item.

“Well, Penny? Anything you’d like to tell me?”

Putting on her most innocent expression, she answered, “Tell you? Like what? Did you have something in mind?”

Vivian slapped her on the arm. “Do you want me to hurt you, sis?”

Laughing, Penny said, “No, that won’t be necessary. Yes, Christy and I are seeing each other.”

“I’m so happy you found someone!”

“Actually, I suspect Marti found her for me.”

“You know, Penny, I think you’re right about that,” agreed Christy, putting her arm around Penny’s waist.

“We need to find some way to thank her! Is she coming tonight?”

“Yes, I’m not sure why she hasn’t arrived yet; she’s usually early.”

Just then Marti came in the door. Christy and Penny went right over to her and both hugged her.

Laughing she asked, “What was that for?”

“We just wanted to thank you for bringing us together.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were together. In that case consider it a lucky accident. I’m no matchmaker!”

“Well, maybe not officially!” said Christy.

-o0o-

During the meal Vivian kept looking at Penny, who seemed to glow with a happiness she had never, ever seen in her. It made her realize that Penny had likely never in her life had a close, loving relationship. She was so happy for her. Christy looked pretty darned happy too. Her eyes misted up a little.

Steve leaned over to her. “Everything okay, Viv?”

“Yeah. I’m just so happy for Penny. She had a rotten childhood and it’s so nice to see her smiling and in love. I have never seen her this happy.”

Steve smiled and kissed her cheek.

“To paraphrase that guy from ‘Fiddler on the Roof,’ ‘even a poor computer hacker is entitled to some happiness,’” he said. “I’ve always liked Penny, but I don’t recall ever seeing her look this happy either. I’m glad for her too.”

-o0o-

And they lived happily ever after… along with, of course, those everyday problems that almost all humans must deal with. You know, good times, bad times, high times and sad times. They got through them all together, with unconditional love for each other.

The End.

Or else:

“Christie, how is this story supposed to end?”

“Hm. What if we just stopped—”

The End.

Public Defender, Sheila Cook, sat down with the prisoner, John Trask, in the cold atmosphere of the interview room.

“Mr. Trask, for running after that woman, did you know you have been charged with intent to threaten harm? That’s a misdemeanor, and could carry a penalty of ninety days in jail and a thousand dollar fine.”

“Yes, I know, but that’s not what I was doing.”

Ms. Cook sighed to herself. Of course that wasn’t the real story.

“Suppose you tell me what was actually going on.”

Trask, who seemed very subdued but resigned, took a deep breath.

“The woman who I was chasing after is my daughter. When she was growing up I treated her terribly, and I haven’t seen her in many years. When I recognized her on the street all I wanted to do was apologize for my behavior. But I had abused her as a teenager, and she was scared. I don’t blame her for that. I was an asshole. My father was also an asshole and he raised me to be just like him.”

This was not the story Sheila was expecting. She adopted a softer attitude.

“Would you tell me the whole story, Mr. Trask? It might help in your defense.”

“Call me John, please. I’m not sure I really deserve a defense. But if you really want to know…”

-o0o-

It was a warm fall day, and I got off work early. I was in construction, just like my dad. I got home and was coming into the house to get a beer, when I saw my teenage son, Theo, running out of the kitchen towards his bedroom. Once it penetrated my brain that that was my son, wearing a dress, I blew my stack and ran after him.

“Get your ass back here, you miserable little faggot!”

He’d locked his door, but I just went ahead and kicked it open. There he was, cowering in a corner. I strode over there and yanked him up. Then I tore the dress off him and beat him black and blue. My wife, Norma, had come in during this and tried to stop me, but I threw her back against the wall like a rag doll. She didn’t try again.

“MEN,” I shouted, “do not wear dresses! EVER! I ever catch you in a dress again I won’t be so lenient! Get some real clothes on and then do whatever you should have been doing! Mow the lawn, whatever.”

Leaving him, I went back to the kitchen, still angry. What the hell was wrong with the boy? I knew he’d always been a little on the pansy side, and I had yelled at him for it, but to put on a dress?? No, not acceptable. Hopefully I had beat some sense into him, and that would be the last of this.

I brought the beer to the living room and turned on the TV. I wasn’t even watching it; it was just on to keep me occupied so as to stop thinking about this situation. When I finished the beer I yelled for Norma to bring me another beer. Soon I heard her scurrying to the kitchen like a mouse. She brought it in to me and before she could leave I grabbed her wrist.

“Did you know Theo was a pervert?”

She refused to meet my eyes, and mumbled, “No, I didn’t know.” I wasn’t sure I believed her though. I mean, she was home, and he was in the kitchen, for cryin’ out loud.

“Well, make sure he doesn’t try it again or he’s really going to regret it.”

She nodded and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

-o0o-

By the time dinner was ready I’d had quite a few beers. Norma called to me that the meal was ready. I called out to Theo to get his ass out here, but there was no answer. After I called him a few more times I went to his room, and he wasn’t there either. Norma claimed not to have seen him since I belted him.

“Well, he’s out one dinner. Let’s eat.”

-o0o-

“And that was the last time I ever saw my son, maybe thirteen years ago. The day after that Norma was gone, and I haven’t seen her since either.”

“But that’s not the end of the story, is it, Mr. Trask?” asked Sheila.

“No, that was just the beginning of the end. I don’t know whom my wife talked to, but I found myself fired from my construction job. No one else would hire me; I’d been blackballed for being an abusive wife-beater and child beater. It wasn’t many months before I lost the house, which was a mess, since I had no idea how to do housekeeping. I traded in the pickup for a cheap beater, so I’d still have some transportation."

-o0o-

For a couple of months I was in a men’s shelter. It was full of all sorts of people I considered freaks of one kind or another, and I was very uncomfortable there. There was an effeminate guy I picked on now and then, and one day a man even bigger than I was told me to leave him alone.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I said. Who he was turned out to be the guy who gave me the beat-down of my life. “Don’t you ever go picking on those weaker than you again!” he told me. He really left an impression on me!

Course by now I wasn’t in shape anymore, being out of work and not getting the nutrition I needed. That guy had made quick work of me, and I was really hurting, lying in a corner. I couldn’t even count the many places I was bruised. And then the oddest thing happened – the effeminate guy came and helped me! At first I didn’t want him near me, but I was in no shape to turn down any help. Over two weeks I got to know him—his name was Curtis—and I started to realize he was just a regular human being. Not a pervert; just a guy who was wired to like guys instead of girls. I mean, he didn’t even try and come on to me; he was just being a friendly, humane person.

I asked him why he had to be a homo.

“John,” he told me, “I didn’t have a choice in how I felt. You may think I could just decide to act manly, but it doesn’t work that way; everything about doing that felt wrong. I didn’t just decide one day to act girly; I grew up acting like that. I had no sisters to emulate, so how did I learn that behavior? It’s innate!”

He’d had a hard life, with his dad had kicking him out when he was seventeen. I don’t even know how he ended up at the shelter, and by the time I was ready to ask him, he had gone. He was good to me while I was there, but I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be in my own place. I’d take some jobs with a temp agency, mostly really lowly labor stuff, but it never made me enough to afford my own apartment.

But I left the shelter anyway and started sleeping in my car. With a lot of time to think, I went over my miserable life in my head again and again. I’d been an abusive sonofabitch to my wife and kid—just like my dad—and I guessed I deserved to be where I was.

One day the car died. There was no way I could come up with enough cash to get it fixed. I came back from a day of temp work a few days later and the car had been towed. So now I was without shelter, it was starting to get colder, and it didn’t take long before I got sick.

By this time I was already feeling pretty disgusted with myself for the way I had acted all my life. And I was coughing all the time and figured I had pneumonia or something like that. It felt like I would be doing everyone a favor if I just died. And given that I had been such an ass for so long, I thought I probably deserved to suffer before I died. There’s a railroad track at the edge of town, and I started on my way there so I could lie down on the tracks. I know it sounds like a cliché, but I thought that would be the most painful way to go.

It took a long time to get there, and when I arrived I was exhausted. For a while I sat and rested until I had the strength to get up and lie down on the tracks. It was a gray day with a constant drizzle, so I was cold and wet and miserable, which also seemed appropriate. I finally got up and lay down across the tracks to wait. I have to tell you it’s not that comfortable a place to lie down, and I hoped the train would be along soon.

-o0o-

Next thing I know I’m waking up in a bed, in some bedroom, having no idea how I got there. After some time had passed a middle-aged woman came into the room.

“Awake, I see. You have a nice case of pneumonia, my friend. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

“Two days?! Well, I felt like I might have pneumonia,” I said, coughing. “How’d I get here?”

“I happened to see you at the railroad crossing. I’m sure you could have picked somewhere more comfortable to take a nap,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “I loaded you into my car and brought you here.”

“But… why bother? I’m really just a waste of humanity.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked. “And by the way, my name is Susan.”

“Because I mistreated my wife and kid until they left me. I’m out of work, homeless, and I don’t really deserve to live.” There was a silence as she digested that. I added, “Name’s John.”

“John, we all have our karma to work out. Trying to check out early only postpones the consequences of our actions. If you had succeeded you’d be back here in another life to finish—or try to finish—what you’ve begun. If you weren’t supposed to be alive here and now, you wouldn’t be.”

I had never heard anything like this before. A year before I would have just laughed in her face, but a lot of my barriers and prejudices had been mown down since then. Also, I thought it would be stupid to say anything negative about what she said, since she was taking care of me. I had another coughing spell then.

“Things will look sunnier for you once you feel better,” she said, getting up. “I’ll go get you some chicken broth.” As she left the room, she said, “I’ve got you on antibiotics, and don’t worry: I’m a nurse.”

Over the next two or three weeks as I recuperated, she spent time with me and wormed the story of my life out of me, how I had abused my wife and kid, and that final day when I found him in a dress.

“And how do you feel about him now, John?”

I considered for a while. “I feel a lot more tolerant. I mean, I still don’t understand why he would want to put on women’s clothes, but the thought of that doesn’t send me into a berserk rage anymore.”

“What if it turned out that he’s transgender?”

“I’m not sure what that means, Susan.”

“It would mean he feels he’s a woman trapped in the body of a man.”

My eyebrows rose at that. “Is that really possible?”

“It’s not only possible, it’s a fact that some people feel that way, and that includes women feeling as though they’re a man trapped in a woman’s body too. It’s a proven fact that brain chemistry is different for men and women. Some of those people suffer terribly because their minds don’t match their body.”

“I had no idea. I never learned anything like that growing up.”

“From what you told me you didn’t learn much growing up other than how to be a bully, and how to devalue women.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

I sat there for a while wondering if Theo was one of those people. If he was, then I had been punishing him for trying to be his real self. Another mark against me.

I didn’t want to be just like my dad. He didn’t treat me very well, or my mother or sister either. We all couldn’t wait until he left the house every day so there’d be some peace for a while. But as I grew older I found myself acting more and more like him. He was a terrible example of humanity, but he was my main example, front and center, and unconsciously I found myself slipping into the same patterns of behavior as he. I laughed bitterly to myself. The one person I liked the least and I ended up as a carbon copy of him.

There was no way I could see to make things right with Norma or Theo now. Yes, my behavior was much better, but I’d still made both their lives hell. I wished there was a way I could apologize to them, but I hadn’t the slightest idea where either of them were.

-o0o-

By now I was feeling much better, and I had started to help Susan out around her house until I felt well enough to strike out again on my own. She taught me the basics of housekeeping, as well as how to make simple meals. I humbly accepted her lessons. We had more discussions about transgenderism, the whole LGBTQ+ spectrum, as well as about spousal abuse. She seemed very knowledgeable. None of it was anything I had ever really given any thought to.

-o0o-

One day Susan brought home a woman friend of hers, Rosalind, for dinner. I was learning to be more polite and I made a real effort. We three had dinner together and then sat around chatting. Susan brought up the topic of trans people, and how she’d been educating me on this subject.

“And you really had no idea about any of it, John?” asked Rosalind.

“It had never even been on my radar,” I said.

“And Susan tells me you have a son who may be trans?”

“Yes, it’s possible, but I don’t really have a son anymore. I pretty much gave up a father’s right when I beat him.”

“What do you think you’d say to him if you did have the chance?” she asked.

“Other than apologizing and begging his forgiveness, I don’t know what I’d say. If I was him I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Same with my wife.”

“Would you accept him as your daughter, if she is transgender?”

“Well, I would certainly try.”

“No, John, this is something that has to be clear-cut. Either yes all the way or no.”

“Okay, if by some miracle I found him or her, and she was willing to listen, then I would tell her I would support her.”

Rosalind smiled.

“That’s excellent. I guess you’ve come a long way. John, there’s a reason Susan asked me to dinner tonight. I’m willing to tell you that I am a transwoman, although I don’t just go telling everyone.”

I was simply stunned. There was nothing I could see or hear about her that told me she was anything other than an attractive woman. My jaw dropped.

“Your reaction tells me that you had no clue. Not all transwomen are as lucky as I am. Some still look like men, and many feel terrible about that. Some decide to let it be someone else’s problem and simply soldier on. The point is, tonight we had a normal conversation here, like normal people. It didn’t make any difference what sex we were; we related as people. If by some chance you do get in touch with your daughter, remember that she is just a person trying to get on with her life, as you are.”

“Thank you for letting me know; it’s been educational.”

When it was time for Rosalind to leave she leaned up and kissed my cheek. I had no feeling that this was a man kissing me; she just seemed completely natural.

-o0o-

Susan was kind enough to let me to stay there until I found a job. It was just labor, but it would make me enough for me to get my own place. I thanked her profusely for rescuing me and helping me to understand more about life and its many variations.

The next ten years were spent quietly, just working and living on my own. I started to volunteer at the LBGT Center nearby, just helping out around the place, including some maintenance work. If I ever saw Theo again I wanted to really understand what he might be going through. I got to know a lot of the clientele – mostly younger people—and some of them started calling me Uncle John. I treated them all as equals, and liked quite a few of them.

-o0o-

“It’s been thirteen years now since I last saw Theo. I knew nothing about his life since then, whether he decided to transition, or whether he was just a crossdresser or what. And then yesterday as I came out of the grocery store I saw this woman who reminded me of Norma. She looked up and saw me, her eyes widened and she turned pale and started running away from me. And it hit me that that must be Theo—or whatever name she calls herself now. I shouted, “Stop! Please! I just want to talk to you!” but she went faster and started to panic and scream when she looked back and saw I was coming.

“She kept screaming, attracting attention until some men grabbed me. Then a cop was there, arresting me for threatening and all that. All I wanted to do was just say I was sorry. I don’t blame her at all if she doesn’t want to hear it.”

There was silence as Sheila digested all this.

“I’m sure you didn’t want to hear all that, Ms. Cook,” John said, a little embarrassed for how long he’d been talking.

“No, no, it was quite illuminating. Her reaction seems very understandable, given her history with you. Well,” she said, rising, “Let me see what I can do for you.”

“Thank you for listening,” John said, and was led back to his cell.

-o0o-

Sheila had a number of people to contact. Her first call was to the director of the LGBT center where John worked, to explain the situation. The director said she would round up some people who love Uncle John and would be willing to speak up for him.

Sheila then arranged a meeting with Taryn, John’s daughter, and went over with her what had happened.

“Did Mr. Trask touch you?”

“No.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

“What was it he said to you?”

Taryn thought back and remembered him saying, “Stop! I just want to talk to you!”

“He told me he just wanted to apologize to you,” said Sheila.

“What?! That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Taryn, you haven’t seen him for over thirteen years. He’s been through a lot since then and learned much.”

She scoffed. “Hard to believe.”

“Maybe so, but as he doesn’t know what happened to you, you also don’t know what happened to him. He’s had quite the journey. He volunteers at the local LGBT Center every evening, and he has quite a few people there that really care for him.”

Taryn’s eyes betrayed her skepticism.

“I want you to meet some of them,” Sheila said, She brought out her phone and sent a short text. The door opened and a dozen people from the LGBT Center trooped in. Many of them were obviously non-binary and Taryn was floored.

“You all like that man?”

A girl with pink hair and multiple piercings was the first. “We love uncle John. He makes us feel safe at the Center, listens to us when we need an ear.

A butchy-looking woman in her twenties added, “And he just helps out and looks out for us.”

“Uncle John? John Trask?”

“Yeah,” they chorused. “He’s great.”

One thin teenage boy with acne said, “He comforted me when my boyfriend broke up with me. He was really wonderful to me.”

Taryn just couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Sheila looked at her with sympathy.

“People can change, Taryn. I want to leave you with that thought.”

She and the youth left the room, leaving Taryn still shell-shocked.

-o0o-

Taryn thought about what she’d heard, seen and learned, and did withdraw her complaint. The charges were dropped and John was released. He wanted to thank her, but Sheila told him she still wasn’t ready to face him. Seeing him after all those years had brought back some very unpleasant memories and some PTSD. Maybe some day she could face him, but not now.

Sheila Cook delivered a letter to her from John.

Dear Daughter,

Thank you for what you did for me. I hope you don’t feel sorry for me for the arrest, because I don’t deserve any sympathy from you.

All I wanted do was simply apologize to you for being an abusive asshole. You didn’t know my father, but when I was growing up he was just like I used to be, and we all hated and feared him. In spite of myself I grew into the same kind of man. I know there’s nothing I can do to atone for the way I treated you and your mother, but this letter is the first chance I have had to say sorry.

If you are in touch with your mother, please tell her I apologize. I never treated her right either.

I’ve learned a lot since we last saw each other, and I hope I’ll go on learning.

I wish you all good things, and that goes for your mother as well.

John Trask

Taryn cried as she read the letter. She was glad he had changed his ways, but she couldn’t help thinking it just seemed like too little too late.

-o0o-

On her next therapy appointment she brought up the whole episode with her father.

“It sure sounds like he’s grown into a human being since you last saw him, Taryn.”

“I know. I just couldn’t believe it when all those kids from the LGBT Center said they loved him. He can’t be the same man who terrorized my mother and me.”

“Evidently he isn’t. But what about you? Can you forgive him?”

“I—I just don’t know if I can. It’s too soon. This whole thing has triggered some nightmares.”

“Taryn, as long as I’ve known you, you have had this weight hanging over you. The weight is you being unable to engage life fully because you can’t forgive your father. You don’t even need to see him, but if you can let go of that pain and anger, you’re going to be amazed at how much better you feel. Give it some thought. You gain nothing by holding on to the bad feelings.”

“Thank you Mary. I will give it some thought.”

-o0o-

A couple weeks later Taryn steeled her nerves and disguised herself in a blonde wig with dark glasses and went to the LGBT Center one evening. She just felt that she had to see the truth of what the kids had said. It was busy enough there that she felt unnoticed. She took a seat and pretended to read a magazine as she kept an eye on what was going on. She saw her father interacting with a lot of people there that evening. Although it made her almost shake in her boots to be in the same room with him, she watched him help people and talk to people, and even sweep the floor, all with a kindly smile on his face, a smile she really never remembered seeing. More than one kid gave him a hug or a kiss before they left. As the place cleared out she left before she was noticed.

So hard to think this was the same man who had caused her and her mother so much grief. She knew her therapist, Mary, was right about forgiving him, but just looking at him she could almost feel the old bruises. If she did forgive him, would those memories stop plaguing her? It might be worth it just to find out.

Taryn had had a number of relationships over the years, all with women. They didn’t tend to last that long, and the partners would all say the same thing to her, that she seemed too wound up and closed up. They didn’t feel like they were getting all of her.

Her current girlfriend, Lili, was trying hard, but Taryn could tell the relationship was heading in the same direction as the others. She didn’t want it to, but she wasn’t sure how to do what Lili wished she could do.

That night she told Lili all about her childhood traumas, and about her father’s changed behavior.

“I still can’t believe it, but I actually observed him at the LBGT Center, and those kids were telling the truth. They do love him. He was even smiling. I can’t even remember seeing him smile when I was growing up. Mary told me I need to forgive him, even if I don’t tell him in person.”

Lili looked at her sympathetically. She reached out a hand and stroked Taryn’s hair.

“She’s right, you know. This is holding you back from life, and from me. I realize you had a horrible childhood, but you’ve been on your own for years now. Why not leave all those horrible things in the past?”

Taryn’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I…I want to, but I think I’ve been holding on to that pain for so long, and nurturing it, that I don’t know how to let it go.”

“First you have to make up your mind to do it. I’m guessing that up to now, you have never committed to do that.”

Taryn looked down. “You’re right.”

Lili pulled her head back up. “You don’t need to feel guilty about that, honey. This whole thing is a process. Decide to do it, and then just say it in your head. Or you can write about it if you think that would work better. You can even pray about it if you want.”

Taryn reached over to her and they held each other.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Lili. I know I haven’t been fair to you while I’ve been hauling this load around. I’m really sorry.”

“I forgive you, Taryn,” She said, and smiled. “See how easy that was?”

“Smart ass,” Taryn smiled through her tears. “I love you, Lili.”

Lili was surprised. “You’ve never told me before. I love you too.”

“I think it’s just all part of the same problem. I’m sorry I never told you before.”

“Taryn, look, it’s December. Why don’t you make a New Year’s resolution to forgive your father? You won’t regret it, and it’ll be one more thing to finalize it.”

Taryn drew in a deep breath as they released the hug.

“Okay, you’re right, you’re right. I resolve to forgive my father and leave the past in the past.”

“Good girl,” smiled Lili.

-o0o-

As Taryn lay in bed that night she tried to clear her mind. She kept having to chase away flickers of scenes of her father chasing her, but she finally felt calm enough to say, inside herself, ‘I forgive you for what you did to me.’ She was so astonished at how she felt that she began to cry silently. It really was like a heavy weight had lifted off of her. This lightened state was so amazing. She gasped, despite herself.

Lili rolled over and even in the dim light she could see the tears.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I…I, I just did it! I forgave him!”

Lili put her arms around her and kissed her. “I’m happy for you.”

They fell asleep holding each other.

-o0o-

In the morning Lili could tell the difference in Taryn’s manner. She was almost bubbly, which made Lili kind of giggle; she wasn’t used to this side of Taryn.

And a few days later she asked the big question.

“Are you going to tell your father you forgive him?”

“I’m, uh, I’m trying to work my way up to it.”

“Would you like me to go with you?”

Taryn looked at this sweet companion and smiled. “I would love it.”

They decided to do it on New Year’s Eve. Lili had called the Center and found out they were having a party there. She spoke with the director.

“I was wondering if my partner and I could have some time in a private room at the party to talk to John Trask.”

“He’s not in trouble, is he?”

“No, my partner is his daughter, and she would like to forgive him in person.”

“Ahh. Yes, I heard the story about this, and I’m pleased to hear about her plan. I think John will be very happy.”

“So Taryn and I will arrive a little early, and could you send him in to us when he gets there?”

“I would be delighted.”

-o0o-

On New Year’s Eve the girls arrived at the Center before the party began and went straight to the private room and sat down at the table to wait. After about forty-five minutes there was a soft knock and the door opened. In walked John Trask. When he saw Taryn he stopped dead.

“You’re here,” he breathed. “I never thought I would see you again.”

She looked up at him.

“Yes,” she said, and took a deep, shaky breath. “I wanted to tell you in person that I forgive you.”

To her shock he started crying.

“You can’t know what this means to me. Thank you.”

He wiped his eyes with his palms, and then asked, “Oh! I don’t know my own daughter’s name.”

It had never occurred to her that he hadn’t been told.

“It’s Taryn, and this is my partner, Lili.”

He smiled. “It’s a nice name. It fits my beautiful daughter. Wonderful to meet you, Lili.”

-o0o-

They didn’t immediately become friendly, but it was a first step. There was contact, and eventually every so often Taryn and Lili would have him over to dinner. It really made him happy. And it turned out that it made Taryn happy too.

The End.

Author's note: Sorry if any of the legal stuff is incorrect. I never did get a law degree… or any other degree, come to think of it.

Lisa Stavers and Mike Carlson were seniors in high school, and were a real item. When they met they seemed to instantly ‘get’ each other. They were often at each other’s homes, for study, making out, meals, and it wasn’t too farfetched to think that they’d get married one day. They seemed to have similar interests, and got along splendidly.

There was, however, a watcher who wanted Lisa for himself. Bruce was in the periphery of their group of friends, so they were aware of him, but not of his crush. He spent a lot of time plotting about how he could get Mike out of the picture, and one day he came up with a plan. The easiest thing would be to start a rumor that Mike was seeing some other girl. He knew there was a girl, Linda, in their circle of friends who thought Mike was cute, although he knew she had never acted on her feelings. He started his rumor with a couple of the other friends, asking if they had seen Mike and Linda kiss. They were amazed Mike would ever cheat on Lisa, and like dry tinder, soon the rumor spread to everyone else in the circle.

Naturally Lisa was told about this and was livid. She confronted Linda as well as Mike, who both vehemently denied ever having had even an intimate conversation. But Lisa was somehow convinced it had happened, and she dumped Mike.

Mike was flabbergasted. He thought Lisa knew he was crazy about her. Why on earth would she believe it? He felt grief-stricken for the loss of their friendship. A few days after he had mentally absorbed his new status, he started to wonder who could have started this untruth, and why? Soon enough he began to perceive the most likely suspect, as he saw the weasely Bruce making moves on Lisa, moving in to “comfort” her, ‘and not even giving her time to get over me,’ thought Mike. He already didn’t like Bruce, and this seemed to point to him as the culprit. Meanwhile Lisa treated him abominably, dissing him in front of others, and encouraging her closer friends to shun him, which they did.

Mike was no saint, but he was honest, as most of his friends knew, and an all around good guy, offering his help when it was needed. He didn’t react to all this hostility, having learned that it only fed the cycle. This whole thing really hurt, but he knew he needed to try and put it behind him. A lot of his affection for Lisa had soured when she turned so spiteful, and refused to believe the truth. She was the one person he thought he could count on. He didn’t wish her ill, but he had an idea that sooner or later she would realize the truth. Thanks to her he became, not exactly a pariah, but a loner, as the old group excluded him.

Linda wasn’t nasty to him, of course, but neither of them wanted to give any credence to the rumor that had busted up the relationship, so they remained at arm’s length. She, too, was excluded from the group.

In the meantime, Bruce was making progress with Lisa, offering a shoulder to cry on, commiserating, and treating her very solicitously. His plan was working excellently! She started to respond to his advances, and before too long they were dating. He was no Mike, she thought, but then Mike had betrayed her. The rest of the group still didn’t like Bruce that well, but they didn’t want to alienate Lisa, so they accepted him—for now.

-o0o-

Mike settled in to his new, lonelier existence, concentrating more on his schoolwork. He also found a part-time job and in general kept himself busy. His grades, not bad to begin with, improved, and it was nice to have his own spending money. He missed having a girlfriend, but started to get over the hurt and feel okay about himself as things were.

-o0o-

It so happened that Bruce liked to boast, and one day when he thought he and a buddy were alone, he explained how easy it had been to bag Lisa for himself. He was unaware that Clark, one of the group of friends, was around the corner and heard this confession.

Clark wasted no time in telling Lisa how Bruce had duped her, and that Mike was totally innocent. She felt awful and cried buckets. She knew she had really treated Mike terribly. She knew that he was an honest guy, and wasn’t lying to her. Why had she been so quick to believe Bruce? She found Bruce, and raked him over the coals for destroying her relationship, and for his deception. She told him she would make sure he never had another girlfriend while at high school.

After agonizing about it for some hours, she sent Mike a text, asking to speak to him.

Mike was and wasn’t stunned to see a text from Lisa. The only reason he could think that he would hear from her is that somehow Bruce’s plot was finally exposed and that Lisa wanted to apologize. He felt kind of neutral about her now, and agreed to see her, so they met up that evening outside the ice cream shop.

Lisa could hardly meet his eyes, but she summoned up her courage and said, “I’m SO sorry, Mike, for believing that rumor. I realize now that that rat, Bruce was just trying to get me for himself. I know you wouldn’t lie, and I don’t know why I believed him.”

Mike thought about it for a minute, but only said, “I accept your apology.”

Lisa struggled to say the next bit. “Do you think we might get back together?”

Mike thought about it for just a little while. They had had a very close relationship that both enjoyed, but that she was capable of being so cruel really turned him off.

So he looked her in the eye and said, “Lisa, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. Why don’t we just say that our karma together is finished, and go our separate ways. To show you there’s no hard feelings, I’ll buy you a cone.”

This speech provoked a flood of tears from Lisa. She really wanted to argue her case. She missed the Mike she had known, but knew she had treated him very poorly, and could understand, even if she didn’t want to. In fact she could hardly believe he was being so nice to her. She had no appetite, and declined the ice cream. In the future she resolved she wouldn’t be so quick to listen to accusations. They said goodbye and went their separate ways.

It didn’t take long for this news to get back to all their friends (and ex-friends). The group made a guilty effort to be nice to Mike and Linda, but neither of them really wanted to be a part of that group after how they had been treated. Bruce, of course, was now the pariah. And no, he couldn’t get a date.

A few months later, Mike was at the library and ran into Linda. They were both working on the same assignment for History, and helped each other out a bit. They were no longer worried about being seen together. Mike was impressed with Linda’s knowledge of the subject, and thought she was interesting. He hadn’t ever really thought of her as a possible date, and wasn’t really interested in dating her now. But as they met at the library a few more times, he liked the person he was getting to know.

When the news that Mike and Linda were getting together at the library reached Lisa, she was a little pissed off. Had they really kissed and had they been seeing each other behind her back all this time? Had she unfairly apologized to Mike? She wanted to confront him, but didn’t want to find herself on the wrong side of the issue again. How to find out the truth?

She asked a few of her classmates if they knew if Linda was seeing anyone, and no one was aware of her dating. She asked them if Mike was seeing anyone, and again they said no. He didn’t have a lot of spare time, with schoolwork and his job. That should have been the end of it, but a couple of those students told Mike that Lisa was asking about the two of them, and he could see where this was going.

At lunch the next day he stopped by her table and said, “Lisa, is there something you want to ask me?” Guiltily she looked down and said “no,” in a small voice. “Would you even believe me if I said that Linda and I have never been on a date? Who I see has nothing to do with you. I was never unfaithful while we were friends and I’m not lying now. So please just drop this.” And he walked away. Lisa was cringing under this speech and felt awful.

Mike didn’t want to be cruel, but he was kind of tired of the whole thing, and was looking forward to graduation, and being done with this school and group of people. He was now an honors student, and in the top percentile of his class.

-o0o-

While he was in university, Mike went to see a seer whom a couple friends had recommended. He found what she told him quite interesting. She said that a breakup in high school changed the trajectory of his life. If he had stuck with that girl, they would have married, and after just a few years something would have come along to destroy their relationship. Since in the original life he wouldn’t have gotten the excellent grades he did get, (thanks to having more time to study), he would have entered a different career path that he wouldn’t have found as fulfilling as the one he was now headed for. She also noted that within five years he was going to find a woman he would fall in love with and live a long, happy lifetime with.

The seer went a little further back and said that the reason he and Lisa were so comfortable with each other right from the start was due to several lifetimes spent together, sometimes as a male and sometimes as a female. In each lifetime together one of them had dumped the other, leaving the dumpee angry and full of unresolved emotion. This time, she said, the fact that Mike had been non-reactive had allowed his karma to resolve. So he had actually been correct when he told Lisa their karma together was finished.

When he left the seer he was very introspective, finally realizing that the breakup, although it seemed devastating at the time, was necessary for him to have a life he would enjoy a lot more than where he had been headed, even though he and Lisa were so seemingly compatible. He was really glad he had said no to her when she asked if they could get back together. The way it did happen left a lot less wreckage than if they had gone on to marry.

He hadn’t particularly ever given much thought to reincarnation, but he did have to admit that what the seer said felt right. The two of them were instantly comfortable with each other right from the beginning. He kind of wondered if he and his wife-to-be had spent any lifetimes together.

Time would tell!

The End.

By the time I met my wife, Jean, just out of college, I had been dressing since I was a young teenager, but only in the privacy of my own home. However, when we got engaged I wanted to be rid of the “hobby,” and swore off doing it. For a long time I really thought I had beaten it. But after twelve years of marriage, and the occasional urge, one thing led to another, circumstances presented themselves like the most delectable temptation, and I started to gather a wardrobe again. I only dressed, I didn’t go for the whole try-to-pass-as-a-woman thing, since I knew I never could. I just liked the feel of the clothes. (Think Corporal Klinger trying to “pass.”)

The day Jean discovered me was truly awful. She came home unexpectedly early, saw me, and just started yelling. She never gave me a chance to say a word. I was frozen, hearing all this invective; I really hadn’t the slightest clue that she was so… bigoted, after the years I had known her. She said some really cruel things—I can’t bear to repeat them. She made it clear she wanted me out—really wanted to throw me out dressed as I was, and with nothing but the clothes I had on—but I didn’t see why I should obey her. A part of me had turned numb and shut down when she became so nasty, and a wall went up. This was the woman I loved and who I had thought loved me. After all, it was just clothes. How was I harming anyone? How was I being unfaithful? I felt sorry about our marriage vows, but I just emotionlessly thought, “so be it. If she really feels like this, then why should I grovel, and try and ‘repair’ the damage?” This ‘shoot first and ask questions after’ attitude just didn’t go down well with me. I wasn’t going to pretend what I was doing was a big crime.

So I calmly went and changed back to my male clothes, packed a couple of suitcases and started out. She had calmed down only a little, but was still acting as if I had stabbed her through the heart. This really hurt, as I had been a loving and supportive husband, and I thought we had a good marriage. She was disregarding everything she knew about me in favor of this one new fact.

Part of me was still numb and in shock over being discovered, as well as the attack on me, but another part—the part in charge—was calm and collected, and did what was necessary in order to leave the house. Between some of her ranting I managed to get a word in. “I’m sorry to have been such a disappointment to you. I will leave you in peace, and wish you well.” She just stared daggers at me, and said “Just Get Out!”

Piling my things into the car I drove off, thinking about where I should go. My job allowed me to work from home, so I could do it from anywhere. In order to mull things over I checked into a motel about twenty miles from “our” home. That night as I lay there I went over and over what had happened and how I felt. There seemed to have been no indications of this attitude in her before; we had even watched Mrs. Doubtfire, and there was no vitriol. I cried over the rift in our marriage, especially over such a harmless thing.

As time passed I found myself an apartment and resumed my life. I kept waiting to be served with divorce papers, but it didn’t happen. There was no one I really wanted to ask about what was happening with Jean, and I was in no hurry to contact her. I kept going back and forth in my mind how I felt about her. I thought we had loved each other unconditionally, but evidently that was not true on her side. That thought left a hole in my heart, and the abusive language and anger just made me sad. I really didn’t see how I could go back to her.

About three months into our separation she e-mailed me that she would like to talk, face to face. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to do it in a public place, in case she started yelling again—I was really in no mood to be yelled at—or in a private setting, so I suggested we meet in a park we were both familiar with. She agreed.

Two days later we met at the park and found a picnic table to sit at and talk. She had tried to investigate (online) what she now referred to as my sick perversion, and had questions about it, which I answered as well as I could. I told her I found it relaxing and that it felt nice, and that it wasn’t a sexual thing. She didn’t understand, and said she really wasn’t happy with it, although she couldn’t say exactly why. To me it seemed as if she had found the very worst websites possible, anything that would support her negative opinion. She wanted to know why I didn’t mention it when we met, and I told her I had thought I had beaten it, but eventually—after twelve years!—realized it was a compulsion that would not be denied. To her ears that sounded as if I was too weak-willed. She claimed she still loved me and said she wanted me back home—but only on her terms. I thought about it a minute, and then told her that no, that didn’t sound like an equal partnership to me, and that I was not causing anyone any harm by what I was doing. She had said some very hurtful things, and that now that I had seen this side of her I didn’t know how I could trust her not to blow up at something else. I didn’t throw in the bit about unconditional love, which might seem like waving a red flag at a bull. I said all this in a calm way, but I could see she was getting angry again.

“I’m sorry you feel so wronged. I will talk to an attorney about a divorce,” I told her as I got up. Her eyes went wide at that. I couldn’t understand what was going through her mind. Did she think we’d just go back to our life as it was before her discovery, as if it never happened? Why did she think I would cave so easily? “If you don’t mind there are a few more things I’d like to get from the house, and I’d be happy to do it while you are at work,” I offered. She was still kind of speechless, but nodded. I walked away.

The divorce was finalized, with equal distribution of assets. She got the house. We both worked, and had similar salaries, so there was no question of maintenance. I got on with my life, and I assume she got on with hers. With nothing to stop me, I resumed dressing on a regular basis, in the privacy of my home.

-o0o-

I led a rather solitary life, what with working out of my home. Exercise and grocery shopping were the main things that took me outside, and yes, I was a little lonely, but I didn’t know what I was going to do about it. If I started another relationship with a woman, I’d have to tell her about the dressing, and I couldn’t imagine how that would go well, not after I’d been burned the way I had. There were probably online support groups for this sort of thing, but I really wasn’t interested in meeting someone in that way. There were only ever a few friends while I was growing up, and we had fallen out of touch. So I stayed alone.

Three years passed, and I was in the same situation. I thought of Jean now and then, and I would wonder just how close a relationship we had really had. Had I been kidding myself? But I didn’t want to start second-guessing to figure out how I might have done things differently. Judging by her attitude, even if I had brought the subject of cross-dressing up, she would not have been receptive. It was okay for actors to cross-dress, but not someone she actually knew. Oh well. I was just happy we hadn’t had children, who would have been traumatized by all this.

Part of my exercise routine was a long walk every evening, and I became familiar with people along the route I usually took. One woman in particular became a kind of waving friend, since she walked as well. More for company than anything else, one day I asked if she would like to walk together, and she agreed. Her name was Ellen. We got along well together, discussing only a bit of our personal lives, as well as mundane things, and not bothered by any silences between us. We did admit to each other that we were both divorced, but although I found her very attractive I never made a move on her, since I just didn’t know how to breech the big problem.

After about six months she invited me to join her for coffee at a café we passed on one of our routes. Surprised, I happily accepted and we walked there, got our drinks and sat down. She began talking in a way that suggested she would like to move our relationship to the next step. She looked at me expectantly. I wasn’t ready to bring up the Big Deal at this point, so I wasn’t sure exactly what to say. I took a deep breath and said, “Ellen, I do find you very attractive and really enjoy spending time with you, but I’m just not sure about a relationship. I’ve been badly burned, and it’s made me very leery,” is all I managed to say. She didn’t look mad at this, I was glad to note; more sorrowful.

After a pause she said, “Maybe we could just start small.”

I thought about that; I still wasn’t sure. But then, maybe non-intimate dates would be okay, kind of like a Plus-One.

“Okay, we’ll start small. No expectations?”

“It’s a deal,” she smiled.

So we did start dating. We went to movies and museums, on picnics and once we went on a ferryboat ride. We shared more about our lives and interests. In spite of myself I was really starting to fall for her, and I could tell she was just as interested in me. We hadn’t been in each other’s homes, so there was no way she could have accidentally discovered my female wardrobe.

On one of our excursions we were eating at a mall food court when who should see us but Jean. She had put on a few pounds and didn’t look like a happy person. She came to our table and I introduced the two women. The next thing out of her mouth was, “So how do you feel about him prancing around in women’s clothes?” The blood drained from my face and I just sat there, mortified, expecting Ellen to get up in disgust and leave. Instead I heard her say, “Oh, I think it’s fabulous. He looks very cute dressed up.” Jean’s jaw dropped open, she sputtered, and then stalked away. [and what’s with the “prancing” bit? Who prances? Not I.]

This sentence had trouble finding its way into my brain. Had she peeked through my curtains and seen me?? I finally got the courage to look up at Ellen, unbelievingly, to see her smirking. “You gave me enough clues that what she said wasn’t a surprise,” she said. Was I really that transparent? What had I said to her? “Plus, from what I knew of her from you, she deserved it, whether or not it was true,” she added.

“You’re not repulsed?” I asked.

“No, should I be?” She asked in return.

Speech eluded me as I sat there with my mouth still open, trying to process what had just happened. I consider myself kind of a stoic person, but a tear started down my cheek. She hadn’t rejected me.

We got up and started walking. Since the subject had been broached for me, I explained how long I had been dressing, and how Jean had discovered me, flown off the handle and kicked me out, and that was why I was leery about having another relationship.

“What a bitch!” She said, taking my arm. “No, I have no issue with cross-dressing, and you’re not the first one I have known. I have actually found cross-dressers to be more in sympathy with women, and better listeners than the usual macho man.

My whole body kind of relaxed, and a weight I hadn’t known I was carrying seemed to lift.

Life was good!

The End.

Mason Myles, age forty-two, was doing well in his field of art photography. He’d had some pretty important one-man shows, and in some prestigious galleries. His work sold well, and he was well thought of in the circles where it counted, after twenty-two years in the field.

Mason lived in a nice loft in Lower Manhattan. He was alone and single, and the main reason for this was that he was a cross-dresser. He knew it was an important stress reliever for him, and that stopping it wasn’t an option. He did not want to take the risk to let his girlfriends know about this side of him, so the relationships failed to gain any ground.

Whenever he visited his mother she would ask if he had a girlfriend yet. After the eight thousandth time his mother asked why he hadn’t gotten married yet, he got frustrated, threw caution to the winds and told her exactly why.

“You want to know why? I’ll tell you why, Ma. I’m a cross-dresser, and what woman would be interested in someone like that?”

She sat there, shocked to the bone. Her son? Put on women’s clothes? How could he!

She looked at him and coldly said, “It would be better if you were dead.”

Now Mason was shocked. His own mother. He was simply stunned she could be so cruel.

He stood up and looked at her for a few moments. He knew she didn’t like “perverts,” but he never had considered cross-dressing a perversion. Well, now that he knew where he stood with her, he had to leave with dignity, be the better person. He said, “May God bless you,” and walked out of her apartment, with no intention of ever returning. How could his mother say such a thing to him, her own flesh and blood? What an incredibly hurtful thing to say to anyone, let alone a family member. Would she say the same thing if he was a murderer?? Or would that be more understandable? Gah!!

Once home he sat down and for the first time in years he cried.

-o0o-

The next day he thought about changing his phone number, in the unlikely event she realized her mistake. It was hard to contemplate speaking to her again. Changing the phone probably wasn’t necessary, because what she said, so disdainfully, indicated she really considered this horribly perverted. She tended to be stubborn. She was not going to be changing her mind. No, sadly, this would be the end of their relationship.

-o0o-

Mason continued on his path, and remained successful. He tried not to think of his mother. He was a grown man. Many people his age had parents who were already dead. That wasn’t unusual. But sometimes he just missed her. Yes, she had kept on harping to him about a relationship, but they had been close for many years, which made her pronouncement all the more hurtful.

-o0o-

His mother, Betty, had been seeing a therapist for years, not because she had any intolerable problems, but this was New York, and everybody who was anybody (or considered themselves anybody—and could afford it) had a therapist.

On her next visit, a month later, she brought up this awful development, though she could barely bring herself to say it out loud.

“How did you respond to him?” asked the therapist, Margaret.

“I said, ‘it would be better if you were dead.’”

“That seems rather harsh, for simply wearing different clothes,” said Margaret.

“You think that’s all he’s doing? He must be homosexual. It explains why he’s never had a long-term relationship with a woman!”

“Well there, Betty, I believe you’re jumping to conclusions.”

Margaret then quoted statistics about the percentages of cross-dressers who were homosexual as opposed to the normal male population.

“Is being homosexual your main objection then?”

“Well, no, but it’s a close second. Men should not dress as women. It’s in the bible.”

“There are many things in the bible, and many of them are frequently used as weapons to prove some point or other. And for each of those points there is always another one people conveniently choose to forget, such as stoning an adulterer to death, or the one about not wearing clothing woven of two kinds of material. They seem to be able to forget that women wearing men’s clothing goes against the same passage in Deuteronomy as men wearing women’s clothing.”

She hadn’t thought about that.

“If you’re going to use the bible as the cornerstone for your judgments, you’re going to find yourself in hot water pretty quickly. And the fact that you are wearing slacks today could invite your son to say it would be better if you were dead.”

“No, there’s no comparison between a woman wearing pants and a man wearing a skirt.”

“So you’re now picking and choosing what passage of the bible you choose to acknowledge, as well as condemning all Scotsmen who wear kilts. What would your grandmother have said about a woman wearing pants? Okay, have it your own way, but you may have done irreparable harm to your relationship with your son.”

She harrumphed, but not very confidently.

-o0o-

A few months later Betty had her sister-in-law, Pamela—her late husband’s sister—over for coffee.

Pamela asked how Mason was doing.

“We don’t speak anymore,” said Betty.

“Whyever not? What happened?”

Betty was not keen to tell Pamela the nature of the problem, but she thought maybe she’d get some sympathy from her.

“The fact is that he’s queer.”

“What exactly do you mean, Betty?”

“He told me he’s a cross-dresser!”

“Is that all! That’s nothing to fuss over!”

“Nothing to fuss over?! It’s depraved! It’s in the bible!”

“There’s plenty of claptrap and contradictions in the bible, Betty, even you should realize that.”

Betty had a lot of respect for Pamela, and she was surprised to hear this from her.

“My therapist tried to say the same thing, but I just know that no man would wear women’s clothes unless he was homosexual!”

“Well then, my dear sister-in-law, it may surprise you to learn your late, sainted husband was also a cross-dresser.”

Betty was so shocked she almost choked on her coffee.

“No! That’s not possible!”

“It’s true. I did grow up with him, you know, and many were the doll’s tea parties we had together, with us both wearing dresses. He loved doing that. I know he had to restrict his dressing after he met you, but he told me the desire for it never left him.”

Betty was still in shock, hearing this about the man she loved.

“Yes, he was a very good brother, and I’m sure exploring his feminine side made him a better husband,” said Pamela thoughtfully.

“In any case, you needn’t worry about Mason. Cross-dressing just isn’t a big deal nowadays. What did you say to him when he told you?”

Looking slightly ashamed, Betty told her.

“My god, Betty! How cruel! You have made an extreme error in judgment. I wonder if Mason can ever forgive you.”

This really shook Betty. Pamela wouldn’t say something like that lightly.

Looking thoughtful, Pamela said, “I suppose this must explain why he’s still single. He’s terribly afraid some woman will find this out about him and reject him or try to humiliate him.”

Clearing her throat, Betty said, “Yes, you’re right. This all happened because I asked him again why he was still single. He gave cross-dressing as the reason why, and said what woman would be interested in him knowing that.”

“I know for a fact that there are women who aren’t bothered by cross-dressing at all. The trick is finding one. Poor Mason. He must be so lonely.”

Now Betty was beginning to see this issue from a different perspective.

“But then why doesn’t he just stop doing it?” she asked.

“It’s not really a choice, Betty. A man who cross-dresses does it for a variety of reasons. Some would like to be women, but for many it just relaxes them… stress relief. When they don’t get that relief, they tend to get very unhappy.”

Betty suddenly felt very old.

“I had no idea about any of this. And you say Robert did it too… I hardly know what to think.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” quoted Pamela. “I think you owe Mason a huge apology.”

-o0o-

Betty left a phone message for Mason asking him to call her, but it was not returned. She tried again with the same result. The more she thought of it, the more she realized that an apology over the phone was not quite the way to go about things. So she took a cab to Mason’s loft, only to find his name was no longer on the mailbox.

-o0o-

Mason had gotten on with his life, taking pictures, having exhibitions. It happened that an apartment on the Upper East Side which he had always admired became available, and he snapped it up and moved there. There was no reason to inform his mother. He did note that she had left phone messages asking him to call, but what was there to say?

-o0o-

Betty contacted Mason’s agent to ask when and where his next show was, and that evening she made sure she attended the opening. It was at a gallery in Chelsea and she took a cab.

Entering, she located Mason fairly quickly and approached him.

“Excuse me. May I speak with you a moment?”

“I wouldn’t think there was anything for us to speak about, Mrs. Myles,” he said stiffly.”

Betty closed her eyes with a pained expression, knowing she deserved that. But she was made of stern stuff.

“Nevertheless, there is something I would like to tell you.”

Sighing, Mason led her to the gallery owner’s office, closed the door and turned to her.

“Well?”

“I owe you an extreme apology, and I’m not sure how I can make it up to you.”

This was actually the last thing Mason expected to hear from her, and he dialed down his attitude several notches.

“What changed your mind about this, if I may ask.”

“I recently learned that your father had the same inclinations that you do. He was a good man.”

Mason’s eyes popped open, and he started to laugh.

“What’s so funny about that?” she asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about that old phrase, ‘like father, like son.’ I had no idea Pop liked dressing.”

“Nor did I, and I doubt he had much opportunity to gratify his urges, for which I am sad.”

“What? You wanted to see him dressed up?”

“No, but from what I understand it can be a stress reliever, and maybe he would have lived longer if he had been able to indulge.”

Mason looked thoughtful at that.

“I do see your point.”

“Can you forgive me, Mason?”

He looked at her. He did miss her.

“Yes, Ma, I can,” and he reached over and gave her a hug.

“I do love you, son, even if I may sometimes have a hard time showing it.”

“Thanks, Ma. I love you too.”

“I’m going to go home now, Mason. You should go back to your admirers.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I’m not used to being out this late anymore. I had gone to your loft and saw you had moved out, so this was the only way to find you to apologize in person.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I will call you.”

He walked her to the door and saw her into a cab.

Wow! Talk about unexpected!

-o0o-

Back at home Betty wondered how she could possibly help Mason find a lasting relationship. It wasn’t as if she could advertise for a woman who was fond of cross-dressers. She couldn’t interview younger women for him. She’d just have to keep her eyes and ears open. Her boy deserved some nice young woman!

She and Mason were back in touch now, and he would visit her as before. She hadn’t forgotten her mission to find him a nice woman.

After doing a bit of research, she discovered there was a nearby CD club, or maybe it was an informal group. She telephoned the leader of the group and asked if they ever had women asking if they could meet a crossdresser.

“Heavens no!” he laughed. “This is more of a support group. A chance for people to come dressed up without fear of judgment. Some bring their spouses, but I don’t recall anyone ever asking to use us as a dating service.”

“Would it be possible to ask if any of them know of a woman who might be interested? I’m trying to do my son a favor, so he doesn’t have to be lonely all his life.”

“Well, it’s a little unusual, but I can bring it up at our meeting. Tell me something about your son.”

She told him Mason’s age, height, that he was in the arts, and in good shape, had a sense of humor and was a pretty nice guy.

“I will let this be known, and call you back after the meeting.”

“Thank you so much!” she said.

-o0o-

In a few weeks she did receive a call back from the leader of the support group.

“Believe it or not, when I announced your message there were three women who had friends who they thought might be open to dating a cross-dresser. I was very surprised. They have been given your contact details and you should be hearing from them.”

“Thank you so much for helping me,” Betty said.

When each of the women contacted her she invited them for lunch, to see if she approved of them. The second of these three impressed her as being perfect for Mason, and she hoped he would agree. Her idea was to get to know the young lady, and then innocently have Mason over with the two of them.

She had this second woman, Patty, over several times, getting to know her. The more time she spent with Patty the more she thought her idea could work, and that Mason would really like her.

Patty was made aware of the reasons behind all this, and that it was important that Mason didn’t know. Who wants their mother orchestrating their love life? Patty was just a few years younger than Mason, and had grown up with a younger brother she used to dress up, and she missed him. He had passed away ten years before. But she was wondering how the subject could be broached between her and Mason. She finally decided that if she and Mason hit it off, once they got cozy enough to visit each other’s houses she would have him over and bring out some pictures of her with her “sister.” Then she could naturally explain how much she loved her brother who had started dressing as a child.

-o0o-

Betty had the two of them over for brunch one sunny Sunday.

Mason was not exactly ambushed by this, because trying to set him on blind dates was never something his mother had subjected him to, so the idea she would set him up had never occurred to him.

“Mason, I’d like you to meet my friend, Patty. She’s in my book club. Patty, Mason.”

They shook hands, and Patty looked him over, trying to imagine what sort of woman Mason would make. She could see possibilities.

Betty could tell instantly that there was an attraction between the two. They just seemed to click, and had the same kind of humor, and that really made her happy. It was all up to Patty and Mason now.

-o0o-

They got along so well that Patty was able to put her plan into effect on their fifth date, when she invited Mason to her apartment for a dinner she prepared. Afterward, when they were talking on the sofa, she pulled over the photo album that just happened to be on the coffee table, and started showing him pictures of herself as a little girl. Some were with her brother, and some with her ‘sister.’

“Who’s the other little girl?” Mason asked. “I thought you said you only had a brother.”

“She is my brother! He loved dressing up, and we would play together. I really miss that.”

Mason’s brain froze. Could this really be happening? After all these years a woman who would be good with this side of him? Is this the point where he should say, ‘Oh really? By the way I like to dress up too.’? That didn’t seem quite right. Instead, he said, “I think it’s great that he was allowed to express himself like that.”

“Really? It doesn’t bother you, seeing a boy in girls clothing?”

“No, I can honestly say it doesn’t. Who knows? If I had had a sister maybe the same thing would have happened to me.”

“Well Mason, I’m glad you’re not against the idea. Ever since those days I’ve always had an empathy for males who like to dress up.”

Okay, she had made the best opening she could.

Mason really wanted to admit his dressing to her right then and there. But, come on, it was only their fifth date. Yes, they were getting along very well, but… it would be really hard to say it to her… out loud.

Patty could tell he was in a sort of turmoil. She put her arm around him, and she whispered, “You like to do it too, don’t you. I think I can tell.”

His face went pale, looking straight ahead. It was hard, but he forced himself to nod yes.

“I have no problem at all with that, Mason. I think it’s sad that men have to get so twisted up about something so simple.”

He finally found his voice. “You don’t know how long I’ve wished to meet someone like you.”

She smiled. “Here I am.”

She would never tell him the reason they had ended up meeting. Betty had sworn her to secrecy, and she was happy to keep that secret.

The End.

.
This was inspired by a story Nathan Lane told about his mother. I was stunned any mother could say such a thing to their child. So it was surprising when he added that she later became his biggest supporter.

This started out as a piece of fluff. Then it became unfluffy.

Kelly was my newish girlfriend, and a very exciting person to be with. I wasn’t quite sure how we ever ended up together, as she was not only pretty and popular, but also looked like the sort of young woman who would be on the arm of a tall, muscled, handsome jock type—the very opposite of me. She was bursting with energy and was a lot of fun. She got me to go places and do things I had never even considered. I wasn’t that sure of myself, thanks to my childhood, and she tried to pull me out of that way of thinking. She was definitely the dominant partner in our relationship, and although we were close to the same size, I thought she was probably stronger than I was; she kept her body in excellent condition. I, on the other hand, was, well, spindly.

We slept together at her place last night, but when I woke up this morning she was gone, and, looking around, so were my clothes. Hers were still there where she left them last night. I found a short note on the bedside table saying:

Tim,
My friend Nancy really needs me. Be back in a few hours.
xxx, Kelly

Wonder what time that happened. I wasn’t even aware she left.

After I used the bathroom, I looked around for a robe, but there was nothing. I really didn’t want to violate her privacy by looking in her closet or drawers. I also didn’t want to wear a towel or the blanket, so for a laugh I put her clothes on, as she was evidently wearing mine. She had left her bra, panties (strange, that), black pantyhose and a short-sleeved blue mini-dress with a full skirt. I figured what the heck, and went whole hog, even stuffing the bra. I even parted my hair in the middle to make the picture a bit less jarring. To my surprise her two-inch wedge sandals fit me, so I tottered out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen. Knowing her, I was sure she would appreciate this joke.

I was able to find some cereal, and sat down to eat, noting that while seated there seemed to be hardly any fabric under my butt. It meant I had to sit up at the edge of the chair. I was on my first mouthful when Kelly suddenly returned.

“Ooohh! Look at you! You look fabulous! I was just about to ask why you were wearing my clothes when I remembered I was wearing yours. I think you look better than I do in that dress!”

“Uh uh. No way I could ever look better than you!” I said.

“I don’t know–whoa,” she kind of sing-songed. “You’re a lot prettier than I would have imagined. Let me just do a few things…” and so saying she ran into her room to get her cosmetics. Returning, she moved me away from my cereal bowl and quickly and expertly applied eyeliner, foundation, mascara and a bit of blush. She also fussed with my hair some, and put some CZ screw-post earrings on me. Not sure why she had them, as her ears were pierced.

As you can probably tell, we were in the early stages of our romance, meaning I would do almost anything she asked.

“Yes. Very nice! Come with me,” she said, pulling me to my feet. “Ooh! Wedges and hose too!” She stopped for a moment, as if thinking of something, then pulled up my skirt. “Aha! Panties as well. You went all out!”

I did think about asking what other choice I had, but kept my mouth shut.

We went into the bedroom so she could show me her handiwork in the full-length mirror. I was dumbstruck. With what seemed like very little work she’d made me look a lot like a girl. She was obviously at the master’s level with makeup, since I could hardly recognize myself.

“I should have asked you to do this before now. You look so good!”

“Um, you didn’t ask me to do it this time!” I sputtered. “You just took my clothes. I didn’t want to invade your privacy by rooting around in your closet.”

“Well, that was very thoughtful of you, but I wouldn’t have minded, especially having stolen your clothes. I just needed to get to my friend, Nancy, and your clothes were handier and easier. She was having a crisis and needed someone to listen. I thought I was going to be back here before you woke up.”

“It’s fine, Kelly. I hope things turned out okay with her. Can I have my clothes back now?”

“What?! Now that I’ve prettied you up? No way! I want to enjoy you looking like this. Hey, did you eat a lot?” she asked, switching subjects rapid-fire.

“Well, no, I didn’t get very far.”

“Great. I’m starving. Here,” she said, reaching for her jacket and handing it to me.

“What… Wait, do you expect me to go outside like this??” I said.

“Sure! As I said, you look fabulous. I want to take my new girlfriend out to breakfast!”

“Well, couldn’t I at least put on something a little longer, like, say, a maxi dress?”

“Hah! Are you kidding? With those sexy legs? You need to show them off!”

Things were happening too fast for me, but I was caught in the whirlwind that was Kelly. She held out the jacket and I dazedly slipped into it. She bustled around a little bit, putting my things into a small purse, and grabbed another for herself, and pulled me out the door before I could think how to tactfully protest. My brain really wasn’t awake yet!

There was a diner about a block away, so we walked, and she gave me all sorts of tips about taking smaller steps, swinging my hips, what to do with my arms. My legs felt cold and exposed, and I was scared out of my mind, but somehow couldn’t resist her. It was kind of exciting, in a horrifying way.

“Kelly,” I begged, “couldn’t we at least go somewhere farther away, where we’re less likely to run into anyone we know?”

“Listen, um… Jessica, no one is going to recognize you. I know who you are and I hardly recognize you! Try to relax. You look very pretty and very natural,” she said, trying to calm me down but not succeeding much.

We entered the diner and seated ourselves. I made sure my back was to the door, and I kept the jacket on, as a kind of extra layer of protection. Kelly reminded me to keep my legs closed. My appetite had all but vanished, so when the waitress came around I just asked for coffee. Kelly ordered a hearty breakfast.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Jessie?”

A girl for five minutes and I’ve already got a nickname!

“No, somehow I don’t think anything would stay down,” I replied.

I sat and watched her eat, while taking the occasional sip of my drink. She kept up a running monologue between bites, about pretty much everything. I found myself relaxing a bit, listening to her; she had a very pleasant voice. When she was done, she paid for us, and then pulled me over to the boutique next door, where she looked at various skirts and dresses. She’d ask my opinion, but I was so clueless about fashion and what went with what, that I had little to offer.

She eventually found a pretty nice dress, that even I had to admit looked good, and she tried it on.

“You know, this would look super on you,” she said, as she modeled it in the mirror.

The saleslady, who was passing by at that moment, chipped in, “She’s right, you know. With your coloring it would look very good.”

After she was out of earshot, I said, “Kelly… honey?, I wasn’t really planning on wearing dresses. I did this because my clothes were gone and to give you a good laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, Jessie. Now that I’ve seen you in a dress, you absolutely have to wear them! You look too good not to wear them! I’m getting this one for you.”

I really didn’t want her to waste her money on women’s clothes for me, but I also didn’t want to torpedo our relationship, so I said nothing.

She paid for it and we walked back to her place. As soon as we got in the door she was all over me. She got the jacket off me somehow, while at the same time kissing me, and pulled me to the bedroom. She flipped up the tiny skirt of my dress, pulled down the pantyhose and panty, extracted Junior and pushed me down on the bed and got me involved in hot, luscious, passionate sex. I was powerless to resist (not that I wanted to!). She cooed to me, and kissed me and called me her girl, and felt up my stuffed, illusory breasts. It was all pretty arousing and sexy, and I liked it a LOT.

Afterward she lay on her back and had me put my head on her shoulder while I lay on my side, her arm around me. My hand was gently lying on her breast.

“Jessie, that was wonderful! I don’t think it was ever that good before.”

I nodded my head in agreement, and kissed her cheek.

We lay like that for fifteen more minutes and then got up and took a shower together. I felt closer than ever to her, even if she did keep calling me Jessie, and her girl.

After we had dried off, she smelled my own clothes and pronounced them “stinky.” She said I couldn’t possibly wear them. So she got out some fresh lingerie and had me put on the new dress, then made up my face again.

“Aha! I was right about that dress. It looks wonderful on you!”

“Well, um, thank you, but how am I supposed to go home like this?”

“What? You have no roommate. It’ll be fine.”

I kept thinking “famous last words” every time she used that phrase.

-o0o-

When I finally left I drove myself home, as slow as the proverbial little old lady, being very careful so I wouldn’t get stopped and have to show my license. Getting inside to my little studio apartment turned out not to be a problem. The one other resident I passed on the stairs, a woman in her forties from the floor above, looked startled to see me, then complimented me on the dress and asked where I had gotten it.

I thanked her and told her where. She looked at me just a little longer and continued up the stairs.

Inside I was about to change to my own clothes when it occurred to me I didn’t know how to get the makeup off. I called Kelly to discuss it. She first suggested I go out to the stores and buy some makeup remover or cold cream. When I nixed that she thought about it a bit. Most of the things she then named (Cocoanut oil, baby oil, jojoba oil) I didn’t have or had never heard of. But she said olive oil would work, so I used that. Then I smelled like olive oil, so I used soap and water.

-o0o-

A few days later Kelly called and said she wanted to go to dinner and a movie with me, and told me she’d pick me up at 7, on Friday. “Make yourself pretty for me,” she said, and hung up.

Uh oh. Why couldn’t I have just stayed in bed that day?

-o0o-

On Friday I was arriving home after work, and the woman I had met on the stairs the other day was coming up behind me. At my floor I turned to see who it was, and said hello, with a little smile. She was a tall woman, kind of regal-looking, and very attractive.

She smiled also and said hello, but then stopped and kind of stared at me. Kelly had assured me I looked nothing like my male self while dressed up, but I was getting a bit uneasy under her look.

“Did you need something?” I asked.

“No, no. You just reminded me of someone.”

“Ah. Oh, okay. Have a nice day,” I said, and started down the hall. I was aware that she was still watching me, as I didn’t hear her footsteps on the stairs.

-o0o-

When Kelly and I talked on the phone later that day, I mentioned to her about this woman on the stairs. She assured me no one would be able to tell who I was.

“But then why was she staring at me, and why’d she keep watching me?” I asked.

“Maybe she just thought you were a good-looking guy,” Kelly joked. “So, are you going to wear your new dress tonight?”

“Kelly…” I started.

“Jessie, I really want to have a nice night out with my girl. It’ll be cozy and romantic. You’ll do this for me, won’t you?”

Of course I caved in. Like I said, she’s hard to resist.

-o0o-

When Kelly arrived at seven I was wearing the dress, and the lingerie she’d put me in. She got right to work on my face and hair. She also put a necklace on me, along with the earrings, and a delicate bracelet. I would have thought it wouldn’t go over my hand, but I guess it was smaller than I realized.

Kelly was wearing some loose black dress pants that went with a black jacket. She looked amazing, as always.

She made sure I had the purse, with my wallet and phone in it, held the jacket for me as I slipped into it, and we went out the door.

Curiously the woman from upstairs was just coming down as we reached the stairs. She said hello to us, and gave me the once over again.

Addressing me, she asked, “Hello, my dear. Are you by chance related to the young man who lives on this floor?”

“What young man is that? What’s his name?” I said, in my best Jessie voice.

“Unfortunately I don’t know it, but you remind me of him. And he reminds me of someone else.”

“As far as I know I don’t have any relatives in this building,” I said.

“Would you please excuse us?” Kelly put in. “We have reservations to get to.”

“Of course. Sorry to detain you.”

“No problem. Byeee!”

Once in the car we began to discuss her.

“What do you think is going on with her? I thought you told me even you didn’t recognize me.”

“I might have exaggerated that part just a tiny bit, but you really do look like a different person when you’re my girl. She might be someone with a photographic memory for faces. Don’t let it worry you. What’s she going to do?”

That was what was worrying me. What could she do?

-o0o-

The dinner and movie were very nice. Kelly treated me like a lady and opened the car door for me. At the movie she put her arm around me and pulled me close. We couldn’t help kissing now and then. I found the whole experience very heady and eye-opening. Growing up, no one really cared about me, and to have all this attention was rather overwhelming. Kelly took me home afterwards, necking with me on the couch/bed. She really took control and made me feel like a woman with her attention. I was lapping it up.

“Jessie, Baby, I just love you like this. You’re so natural and sweet and you really turn me on,” she said, while working her way around my neck with kisses. “It’s hard to believe you turned out so delightful, given the way you grew up. The day you put on my clothes was a wonderful day! Why not give up your Tim existence, and move in with me as Jessie?”

It was hard to concentrate as she kissed and nibbled at me.

“I’ll… I’ll give it some thought,” I was finally able to say, although in reality I had no intention of tossing Tim away.

Since it was Friday night, she stayed over. She had brought a babydoll for me and one for herself, and went to sleep with her arms around me, making me feel safe and loved.

-o0o-

On Saturday she would have liked me to remain as Jessie, but that dress was the only thing I had. I had a couple tasks to do at home, and she said she had a couple of errands to run. When she returned we spent the rest of the day together and both drove back to her place, where she again got me Jessie-ed up. But this time she produced a pair of realistic-looking breast forms to stick in the bra. I had to admit they sure looked a lot better than tissues, which lacked nipples, although the weight was startling at first.

Kelly decided to teach me how to do my own makeup, and we spent some hours on that, the end of which time I was able to apply makeup and not look too much like a clown.

There was very satisfying sex again that night, and on Sunday she took Jessie to the stores to get me a makeup kit and remover, my own lingerie and some more clothes. She really had a thing for Jessie. And I found myself more in love with her as she fell more in love with Jessie.

I was looking forward to going home to think about what she wanted from me, and how it might be resolved. It was hard to think deeply about it when we were together.

She sent me home in a dress. I had a lot of packages to bring in, and kept dropping some. Strangely enough, there was the lady from upstairs yet again.

“Can I help you with those packages, dear?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you to offer. Thank you!” I handed her two of the bags, and we climbed the stairs. Not thinking, I led her right to my door, and thanked her again.

“It was my pleasure. I’m Carol Walker.”

“Nice to meet you, Carol. I’m Jessie…” I hadn’t considered up to this point, but should I give my real last name? She already seemed to have some interest in me, so maybe a fake name??

“What’s your last name, dear?”

“Oh! It’s Collins.” I said, thinking of Jesse Colin Young. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“Well, it’s my pleasure. I’ll be seeing you,” she said, and walked back to the stairs.

I got all the bags inside and went to work putting things away. But it occurred to me that now I had two things to consider: One, what about Kelly and her request? Two, what was really the story with this woman, Carol?

-o0o-

Lying in bed that night I considered these two conundrums. I was certainly in love with Kelly, but there were ramifications in giving up my male identity. What about my job as a graphic designer? I knew nothing about my employer’s LGBT policy, or how they’d react if I just happened to change sex one day.

How would I handle my legal identity?

I didn’t know my parents, having been raised in foster care, not the happiest way to grew up. None of the families were abusive, but they were not very warm either. It did teach me I couldn’t rely on anyone else, though I found myself relying a lot on Kelly. But she was so strong! So easy to defer to. I felt she really wanted to take care of me, which was something I found myself strongly attracted to.

But I was also concerned that once she got me too feminine she’d lose interest in me, and then look for a “real man.”

As for Problem Two, Carol Walker, I just didn’t know what to think. If she thought she knew I was really Jessie as well as Tim, what was she going to do about it? She didn’t act as though she was just waiting to out me to the world. No, she seemed like a genuinely nice person. Well, that one would have to await further developments. It was certainly odd how she seemed to be on the stairs at the same time I was so often.

-o0o-

Over the next two weeks Kelly convinced me to go out with her as Jessie several times. I have to admit it was fun, as well as romantic. She kept adding to my clothing collection, and gave me pointers. She really took good care of me.

During the same period I almost felt like Carol was stalking me. I was too dumb to realize she was trying to catch me when I went to my mailbox to see my apartment number, but that’s exactly what she did manage to do.

And then one day she knocked at my door. She tried to look surprised when Tim answered it, but I could tell she wasn’t.

“Hello again. I’m Carol Walker, from upstairs. Is Jessie at home?”

“Um, no, she isn’t here now. Something I can help you with?

“Well,” she said slowly, “maybe there is. I brought this photo to show her. Perhaps you could look at it too.”

She handed me a studio portrait of a teenaged girl. She looked eerily like Jessie. I looked up at Carol.

“Wh… who is this? She looks just like Jessie.”

“It’s my sister. Oddly enough, her name was also Jessie. Quite a resemblance, don’t you think?”

“Wow, they could practically be twins!” I said.

“Yes, I agree. I wanted to show this to Jessie and ask her about her family.”

“Oh, well, I can answer that. Her parents dumped her at an orphanage when she was born, and she grew up in foster care.” I said, trying not to sound too bitter.

Carol looked very sad at that.

“May I come in? Oh, I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, sorry. Yes, please come in and have a seat. I’m Tim Waters.”

She took the one chair, and I sat on the couch/bed.

“Thank you, Tim. I wanted to tell Jessie all about my sister, Jessie. She had gotten pregnant her last year in high school and was unfortunately forced to give up the baby. She was heartbroken to have to do so. She really wanted to keep it but our parents gave her an ultimatum: an abortion or the orphanage. Marriage was out of the question.”

“That’s an awful choice for a girl to have to make,” I said, sympathetically.

“Yes, I agree,” she said, sniffling a bit. “Jessie felt so guilt-ridden and angry about this that she became very depressed and neglected herself. Our parents tried to ignore what was happening, but when they chose to notice it was too late. She was by then so weak she had to be hospitalized, and after she gave birth there she caught a bug that carried her off within a week. The baby, a little boy, was born a month early and was very frail.”

I didn’t know what to say. This was pretty sad, but I wasn’t sure what it had to do with me.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Walker,” was all I could manage.

“Thank you, dear. What I was wondering… was whether Jessie might not in actuality be my niece, seeing as the resemblance is so strong.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head at that, and I felt a little faint.

“Now Jessie, do you know the name of hospital where you were born?”

“I’m not sure. I think I was told it was City Hospital,” I said, completely failing to notice in my state that she’d called me Jessie.

“That fits. Now, my sister gave birth on June 15th. Is that your birthdate?”

My ears were starting to ring, and I was feeling very odd, as if the room was tilting.

“I, um, yes, that’s my birthdate. I, I can’t believe this.”

She moved over to sit next to me and put her arm around me.

“This means I am your aunt,” she said, smiling at me. “You look a bit pale, dear.”

I slowly looked at her, still in shock. I’d never had any family.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

Hugging me a little tighter, she said, “And if you hadn’t been walking around dressed as Jessie, I would never have even thought about it.”

If I thought I was in shock before, I felt positively woozy now. How did she know? My mouth fell open.

“Dear, I already asked you a question as Jessie and you answered without even thinking about it. I don’t mind at all if you like to dress up. And you look so much like my sister, I was just amazed. It was like seeing her come back to life.”

I took a few moments to digest this, then a question occurred to me.

“Do you know who my father is?”

“I’m sorry, but my sister refused to say. We never knew whether it was some boy at school or if she had been raped. Seeing as she wanted to keep the baby, I think it was a boy she knew.”

That made sense to me, too. Who would want to be told their father was a rapist?

“Tell me, how did you end up with the name Jessie?”

“Oh, Kelly—my girlfriend—just pulled it out of thin air.”

“What a strange coincidence,” she said.

There was a silence as we both thought about that.

“I’ve never had any real family. I’m not sure how to feel… What about your parents?”

“They are both deceased. We had a falling out over this affair and I’m sorry to say we never got along that well afterwards.”

We talked for a while more, with her telling me some things about her and her family. It didn’t seem real to think of them as my family. I surprised myself with how happy I was to know that my mother hadn’t just abandoned me, as I had been told. She actually wanted me!

Carol eventually left me to my thoughts, and it wasn’t long before I called Kelly to tell her I really needed to see her. She said she’d be over as soon as she could.

-o0o-

“And that’s the story, Kelly. That woman is actually my aunt. I can’t get over how the name you picked is the same name as my mother!”

“Yeah, kind of freaky. But maybe it showed I was tuned in to you and what’s going on.”

“I forgot to tell you that she kind of tricked me into admitting I was Jessie. We were just talking, and she asked me a question. I think it was, ‘So where were you born, Jessie?’ And I’m so dumb I didn’t even notice.”

“Nah, Baby, you’re just an innocent is all. Hey, I don’t suppose you gave any thought to my suggestion about becoming Jessie all the time?”

“Oh Kelly…”

“What?”

“I really didn’t think too much about it. Mostly I thought that once I became too girly, you’d just dump me and find a quote/unquote ‘real man.’”

She looked shocked. “Oh honey. No, I’d never dump you like that! You are exactly the type of guy I go for, and that you have this wonderful female side is such a great bonus.”

That made me feel better, for sure, and eased some of my anxiety.

“Still, becoming Jessie full time is a pretty big step. I mean, I’ve been enjoying it, but I don’t know much about being female.”

“But that’s the great part! You are such a natural that you won’t have to make a huge effort to learn. As soon as you put the clothes on you change in ways you probably aren’t even aware of.”

I felt dazed hearing this. Did I know anything about myself??

“What about my job?”

“If they don’t have a tolerance policy you’ll find another job. You’re talented. Don’t worry so much. I want to take care of you.”

I felt overloaded with all this information, even if none of it was bad. I felt tired, but didn’t know if I’d be able to sleep.

“So, about your aunt -- is she just looking to connect with you? Or does she want something more?”

“You know, I was wondering that too, but she didn’t seem to want anything more than to connect. I’m still kind of in shock. I never had a family, so I don’t know what to do with the information. It’s supposed to be a good thing, I know that.”

“It is, Baby. I think it’s great that you have at least one other family member. I always thought it was so sad that you were orphaned so young. And it sounds like it’s probably just as well you never met your grandparents!”

I put my head on her shoulder and we just sat there for a long time.

-o0o-

The next day, after work, for some reason I don’t even understand myself, I made myself into Jessie, put on a dress, and went upstairs to Carol’s apartment. I knocked and waited.

She opened the door and her face lit up.

“Jessie, my dear! I’m so happy to see you!” and she drew me in and gave me a nice, tight hug.

“I swear, it’s just like seeing my little sister,” she said, tearing up a little. “I still miss her, and it’s been twenty-four years.”

I was feeling pretty emotional myself.

“Is there anything special you wanted, my dear? And can I offer you tea or coffee?”

“Um, Aunt Carol… wow, that sounds weird to me… I’m not really sure why I came up here. Maybe… maybe you could tell me more about my mother?”

“Of course, dear.”

She had a full-sized apartment, and led me into the kitchen by the hand.

She had me sit down at the table, and started preparing tea. She described her sister in glowing terms: good student, did well at art (!), mostly happy. It was nice to hear these things to flesh her out in my head a little.

Once she put my tea in front of me she went and retrieved a photo album, then, side by side we looked at her family pictures together while we drank our tea.

“Jessie, my dear, you’re such a sweet girl. You remind me so much of my sister. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you as my niece. I was married once, but only for two years, and have been alone ever since. You are like a ray of sunshine in my life.”

I was embarrassed. No one ever described me, Tim, as a ray of sunshine, and I wasn’t doing anything special here and now. But I smiled at her and then, to my amazement, I started to cry.

“Oh honey! I hope those are happy tears,” she said, and held me.

“I think they are. No one has ever described me as a ray of sunshine before.”

“Well, you are, and I still can’t believe the chain of events that led to us being in the same building. It’s a miracle. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

“Well, you know I was brought up in the foster care system, which sucked. I lost count of how many families I was placed with. Some of them were pleasant. Others were in it just for the money. As soon as I got to my eighteenth birthday I was turned loose. I applied for and received a scholarship to a two-year college and got an associate’s degree in graphic design. Now I work at a small printing house doing the odd graphics job. Oh, and by some miracle, I met Kelly and she somehow liked me and became my girlfriend. That’s me in a nutshell.”

“Jessie, I’m an editor for a big publishing house, and I might be able to find a graphics job for you within the company, which would probably pay more than you get now. Would that interest you?”

That sounded enticing. But…

“Suppose… suppose I were to keep on being Jessie? Would they still hire me?”

“My company has a very tolerant attitude towards the LGBT community, and does not discriminate, so yes, you’d still be able to be employed. Is this something you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m mulling things over. Kelly is all for it, and I don’t exactly feel like I have much to lose. But the truth is, I haven’t done it very much. The first time was only something like a month ago. In fact, you saw me that day! It seems a little premature to make a decision like that so soon. Also, before a few days ago I didn’t have any family to worry about, as far as negative reactions,” I said, looking her in the eye.

“I would be very happy to have my niece around all the time!” she said, beaming, and gave me another hug. “It’s hard to believe you’re new at this. Would you be ‘going all the way?’”

“Oh! No! I’m not unhappy with my male equipment. I’d just present as Jessie and leave it at that.”

“Well, either way you decide to go, I will support you. I hope we can build a close relationship.”

I looked at her and smiled. “Me too.”

...Continued in Ms. Walker and Jessie, Part II

John

Friday afternoon the doorbell rang, which caused my blood to turn to ice. I was fully dressed and made up. No one was expected—I thought I had the whole weekend to be Josie. I went to the door and peeked through the peephole. I recognized Michelle, a very close old friend. I had always had a crush on her, but could never tell her. That would have involved bringing Josie into the picture at some point, and I wasn’t secure enough to do that, afraid of her reaction.

“C’mon John, open up. I can see lights on and I can tell you looked through the peephole.”

I wasn’t anywhere near ready for this, but I resolved not to react to anything negative. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

“Won’t you come in?”

Her eyes bugged out like a cartoon character’s, and her mouth was hanging open. Finally her feet got going and brought her inside, where she began laughing hysterically.

“What brings you here, Michelle?” I asked, ignoring the laughter.

“I…. Hahahaha…. No, I just…. Hahahaha…. You…” She bent over, trying to catch her breath.

“ohhhh, my god! Hahahaha.” Was all that came out of her mouth. I was getting a little tired of it.

“If there’s nothing else, then, I’ll show you out.”

“I…. hahahaha…. I forgot what I came over for!”

“Fine. Tell me some other day.” I turned her around and gently pushed her toward the door. Bursts of giggles were still coming out of her, which hurt me deeply.

We reached the door and I kind of shoved her outside and closed the door, whereupon I burst into tears.

I had always thought Michelle was a nice person. I’d certainly never seen any sort of bigoted behavior from her, but then, maybe we had just never run into the type of situation that brought it out. I was extremely disappointed that she seemed to care nothing at all for my feelings. If I had been dressed as a gag, that would have been something else, but I don’t think I was presenting myself as anything but a normal woman. Certainly not as a campy drag queen, worthy of laughter.

True, I wasn’t beautiful, and there were indications of masculinity, but… what was so funny about that?

Still sniffling, I went into the bedroom and undressed, removed my destroyed makeup. All the fun was gone from what I had expected to be an enjoyable, if lonely, weekend.

-o0o-

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that, if Michelle had reacted the way she had, why wouldn’t she go a step further and out me to everyone we knew? The stigma would be attached to me forever, and I wasn’t sure I could live with that. I resolved to move away, and began packing.

The next day the doorbell rang several times, but I never went near the door. I was expecting no one, and didn’t feel up to dealing with whoever was there. My landline rang several times—I had no cellphone—but I didn’t answer that either. Even if by some small chance it was Michelle calling to try to apologize, I didn’t want to hear it. Her gut reaction was what was burned into my memory.

It was a furnished rental unit, so my few possessions were easily packed up. Clothes, stereo, computer, a few books…

Sunday I turned in my keys, paid the balance on the apartment, and left.
.
.

Michelle

When John answered the door, dressed up like a woman, I just lost it. A tranny? This was my longtime friend? I roared my head off to see him in a dress, heels and makeup. It was so funny I even forgot why I came over.

I couldn’t help noticing he was not reacting in any way to my laughter, but I couldn’t stop. Finally he steered me out the door and closed it behind me. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might have heard him crying, but I was making too much noise to tell. I went home, thinking who I could tell about this hysterical scene, but the more I thought about it, the more the crying noise kept coming to mind.

After I had finally settled down, I started thinking about the whole scene. He was dressed nicely, makeup done perfectly, earrings, nails, all of it. He really went whole hog.

Then I thought back over our friendship, which started in Junior High School. We’d been close, but he’d never even asked me out, which at the time I thought was odd. I didn’t get a gay vibe from him. And he was a good guy, and a good friend. He’d never done anything to be ashamed about, at least not in front of me. And we’d stayed friends all these years, somehow, even through college and the four years since.

-o0o-

The next day I tried calling him to see what was up with the whole dress-up thing, but the calls weren’t answered. I was starting to get a little worried about him, so I drove over to his place again and rang the doorbell a few times, but he didn’t answer.

Sunday I had engagements, but on Monday I drove back again, only to see a For Rent sign on his door. Had he gone away just because I laughed a little?
.
.

John

It felt pretty good to be on the road. I knew where I wanted to go. There was a small town about twenty-some miles away, on the very periphery of the city. It was just a little further to travel to work, where I was employed at a big, faceless corporation; a small cog in a large machine. I didn’t have friends at work. They were just people I worked with.

I found a cheap motel and stayed there until Thursday, when I found an inexpensive apartment to rent, cheaper but nicer than my place in the city.

I was putting everything behind me and starting over.
.
.

Michelle

It was super-surprising to me that John left just because of that little incident—if that’s why, and I have no reason to think it was something else.

During the week I had lunch with Linda, one of my girlfriends, and just had to tell her about this. She was vaguely acquainted with John. When I told her what had happened, and how I had laughed she looked horrified.

“You didn’t really laugh at him!” she said.

“Sure I did. A man in a dress! What’s not funny about that?”

“And you noticed that he didn’t react in any way to your laughter? My god, can you even imagine how much you hurt him?”

“Hurt him? It was funny!”

“Michelle, people have killed themselves over situations just such as that. Do you really want to be the catalyst for a suicide?”

“You’re joking! Why would he kill himself?”

“How about because a person he liked and trusted saw him as a joke? You’ve been friends a long time. Did he dress up like a drag queen or did he try to look like a real woman?”

“Well, he actually looked pretty good, dressed to the nines, with makeup and heels, jewelry.”

“That tells me he is a serious cross-dresser, and not doing it to be ‘funny’ or as a gag. You betrayed his trust, and probably broke his heart. I doubt he’s ever done anything to you to merit that.”

“Well, I did try calling him, and I went back the next day, but he didn’t answer the phone or the door. Two days ago I went back and his apartment was for rent.”

“Wow, Michelle. You really blew it. I thought you were a more sensitive person than that. You sound like a bigot.”

I bristled a little at that. I was not a bigot! I didn’t hit him or anything, or call him names.

“Until you can see how devastating your laughter must have been to him, you’ll never understand. If this is how you treat your longtime friends, I wonder how you’d react to me if I, say, told you I was a lesbian.”

“That’s different. That’s something written into your DNA.”

“Michelle, don’t you get it? A serious crossdresser has a serious feminine side written into his DNA! He doesn’t do it for kicks; he’s expressing his feminine side. We women get to express our masculine side with clothes and some types of jobs, among other things, but a man has very limited opportunities. If he has a strong feminine side and can’t or isn’t allowed to express it, he becomes a very unhappy person.”

I wanted to argue with her, but I could see the logic of her position. John was a very caring man, and very empathetic. But I never would have connected that with the need to wear women’s clothes, at least not without Linda hammering it home to me.

“So you’re saying I made a really big mistake.”

“I’m afraid it looks like a huge mistake, from what you’ve told me.”

“Then I really need to make it up to him somehow,” I said. “But I have no idea where he went.

“Hey, how do you know so much about this stuff?”

“The brother of a college roommate killed himself after he was outed. He was a really nice, cool guy who didn’t deserve being treated that way. I made it my business to try and understand what happened.”

-o0o-

I did try to e-mail John, but that didn’t get a response, so I mailed a letter to his old address, hoping it would be forwarded, but it was “returned to sender, addressee unknown.”

As time went on I felt worse and worse about how I had reacted. I also took the time to read up on transvestism, transgenderism, etc. and grew to realize how badly I might have hurt John. When we were in school I always thought he was going to ask me out, but it never happened, even though I was sure he was interested. In retrospect I realized he was probably afraid of his secret getting out. A person can never tell how someone will react to the news, especially with a touchy issue like this. I was surprised when I read about men and women who had been kicked out or disowned by their family and friends, and persecuted for being any one of the Ls, Gs, Bs or Ts. I had never met anyone like that. No doubt I would have reacted just as stupidly back in school as I had now.

To educate myself a little more I went a few times to the only LGBT-friendly club in town, and got to know some of the regulars. They were all pretty nice people.

None of this helped me find John, of course, but I wanted to be a better person for him, if he would ever show himself again.
.
.

John

I settled in to my new life. The smaller town was kind of pleasant, and more picturesque. I continued to dress as Josie in private, and even though I met some locals, none really became an actual friend. I really put my old life behind me, other than having the same job.

My parents were deceased, and as an only child I was used to being alone, so I wasn’t suffering terrible, punishing loneliness. It would have been nice to have someone to share my life with, yes, but I could make do without. If I wanted to be around people, there were places in the town I could go so as not to feel too isolated.
.
.

---

Six years later Michelle happened to be driving through the business district of the little town John lived in, on her way to visit a friend another hour away. She had changed fields about five years ago and was now a CNA (certified nursing assistant). She had been exposed to a lot more of humanity during the last few years, not least including men dressed as women, or wearing women’s underwear. It didn’t faze her in any way now, and she felt pretty fulfilled in this job. She was also a lot more empathetic to those people.

Two cars ahead of her a pedestrian was hit. She pulled over, parked, and rushed over to see how she could help. Another medical professional was already at the side of the unconscious victim, doing triage. Michelle announced herself as a CNA and helped out. There was a broken leg and two broken ribs, some lacerations. It wasn’t until the ambulance arrived that she took a good look at the person’s face and gasped in surprise when she saw that it was her old friend, John. To her he looked a lot older. It was not a face full of smile lines, and she wondered how lonely or unhappy he was.

She followed the ambulance to the hospital and sat and waited.

Once surgery was completed and he was in a private room she was allowed to go visit. She pulled a chair up to the bedside and held his hand until he woke up.

“What happened?” he croaked out, when he finally regained consciousness.

“You were hit by a car while crossing the street,” she said. “You’re in the hospital.”

Now he turned his head to see who had spoken. It took him several moments to focus on her.

“Michelle? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me, and if you’ll allow me, I’ll see you through your recovery. It’s the least I can do for how I hurt you the last time we saw each other.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about that day and all the emotions it brought back to mind.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t think about it right now. I’m having trouble thinking, period. Is there any water?”

She let go of his hand, which he hadn’t realized she was holding until that moment, took the cup and held the straw to his lips while he took a sip.

“Thank you,” he said, and shifted uncomfortably.

She noticed, and asked, “Are you in pain?”

“Yes, my leg is throbbing, and my side hurts.”

“Let me call the nurse so you can get some pain meds.”

-o0o-

Michelle was there every day until he was released. She had called her distant friend to say she wouldn’t be coming, as well as her workplace, and made arrangements there to be off. She showed John with every word and action that she was sincere in her desire to help him and to atone, and they gradually were able to become friends again.

When he was released from the hospital, she took him home and stayed with him as he healed.

They talked a lot, but never about that day six years ago. By some of the things Michelle mentioned, John could see that she had become more understanding about the whole transgenderism, non-binary spectrum, and it sounded to him as if some of it was direct experience.

Having Michelle in his house began to make John realize how alone he really felt. Without her, how would he have handled his recovery, for instance? It was nice having someone to talk to who actually knew who he was.

-o0o-

The day came when Michelle felt he was well enough to take care of himself. He looked much better, and seemed happier. She felt good about their relationship, though she wished it could grow deeper. But it had to come from him. Though she felt he had forgiven her, she knew that he had to feel comfortable enough to make the first move.

“John, it’s been a real pleasure reconnecting with you. I didn’t think I would ever see you again, but somehow synchronicity arranged for us to meet. I hope you don’t think too poorly of me now.”

“Michelle, I owe you a huge debt for taking care of me, and I have enjoyed having you here. I’m glad you were passing through when you were. I kind of hate for you to leave.”

She stood up and gave him a hug. “You owe me nothing. You have my contact information, and I hope we meet again some time.” That was hard for her to say, but she had to allow him the space to decide if he wanted more.

She drove back to the city.

-o0o-

Each day John missed her. He would have liked to have a closer relationship with her, now that she seemed to have grown up. But it was very hard to think of being Josie in front of her, in spite of what he knew about her now. He realized he’d have to face his fear if he wanted to have a close relationship with anyone, but it was so hard! Even though he knew Michelle was no longer going to laugh at him, a big part of him was afraid of being hurt again. He knew it was unreasonable, but it was still there.

It took him about a month, but he decided to invite Michelle for a nice meal, prepared by Josie. In order to give her time to get used to the idea, so she didn’t walk in on Josie the way she did before, he sent an e-mail saying Josie invited her to dinner. Since they had never discussed his dressing or his fem name, he included his address, so there wouldn’t be any doubt as to who had sent it. He added that he’d understand if she wasn’t interested in spending any time with Josie, so not to be worried about declining.

After all, if she didn’t want to see Josie, then they could never be more than friends anyway.

Michelle was thrilled to get the invite. She was looking forward to meeting Josie properly for the first time. She knew Josie was a part of him and that if they initiated a deeper relationship Josie would have to be a part of that.

-o0o-

The day of the dinner arrived. Michelle got there right on time. Josie met her at the door, looking a little apprehensive, but Michelle came in, put down her purse and stepped forward to give Josie a big hug.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted the last time we met, Josie, but I’ve learned my lesson since then, and I am very happy to meet you. You look great.”

“You look pretty good yourself, Michelle. And of course you’re forgiven. You were a very good friend to John, and he appreciates that more than you know. Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”

That was the last mention of John. As the evening wore on, an interesting thing happened: Josie seemed to relax and a part of her personality Michelle had never seen (in John) emerged. She was really bubbly compared to John, and even funny in a way John never had been. This was something Michelle had heard about, but this was her first time to experience it. She was meeting the whole person, who was more three-dimensional and contented than the John she remembered. She really liked Josie.

John, although he had been dressing as Josie for years, had never interacted with anyone before while dressed, and he was amazed at how Josie was acting. She was bolder, and seemed a lot more fun than John; she even laughed and gestured differently. He really liked this! It was so different than simply dressing up.

Michelle helped Josie clean up after the meal, which she pronounced excellent, and then the two sat next to each other on the sofa and talked a while. There was a lot of eye contact and some unspoken messages, and it suddenly hit Michelle that Josie was not going to be the pursuer. Josie’s big move had been to invite her to dinner. Could she, Michelle, be the dominant partner?

She started to send signals that she was going for a kiss. Josie looked down demurely. Michelle reached over and put her hands on Josie’s face, drew her close and gave her a gentle kiss.

Josie’s heart fluttered wildly. This was actually her first kiss, and she was overwhelmed. Years of feeling alone coalesced into one giant, racking sob, and she burst into tears. She put her arms around Michelle and cried onto her shoulder. Michelle comforted her and pulled her closer.

“It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to be alone anymore, if you don’t want to be.” Michelle said.

That brought on a fresh bout of sobs.

When the tears had subsided, Josie wiped her face with some tissues, and said, “That was my first kiss. Ever. You can’t guess how much it meant to me.”

“Oh, I think I can!” Michelle giggled. “You must feel a lot better now!”

“You know, I really do. I feel like I’ve always been alone, and that’s normal for me, but I guess I really need to have more human contact, especially with you. Could we please try that again?”

This time the kiss was more passionate and lasted much longer. Michelle showed by example what a real kiss consisted of, and Josie was a willing pupil.

“Michelle, would you stay the night?” Josie asked, after the make-out session was over. “I know you’d have to get up super-early, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.”

“That was very sweet, Josie, and as it happens, I don’t have to work tomorrow, so yes, I’d be happy to stay.”

-o0o-

Epilog

Michelle stayed over, they slept together and Josie learned a few more things about how humans interact.

Michelle spent the next day with Josie and John. She and John walked around the town, and she really liked it. He introduced her to his favorite spots.

Not long after, Michelle found a job at a local clinic, and moved in with John. She helped Josie with her confidence and suggested ways to further hide any male traits. She coaxed Josie into actually going outside, and they’d take trips to nearby towns.

They got married six months after that first dinner and moved to a little house on the outskirts of the town. John found a job where he could work from home, and was now usually Josie all day, every day. The nearest neighbors were convinced that two women shared the house…

…And that was perfectly true.

The End.

Groundwork

The person who caused Rose McConnell the most grief in high school had to be Marissa Guarino. Rose was transitioning at the time, and all by itself that was hard. When Marissa was added to the mix it sometimes became intolerable. Marissa was always putting her down, hitting her when she could get away with it, and urging her buddies to do the same. She had no tolerance for people like Rose. They were icky, and just…wrong. She never even called her Rose; it was either some unpleasant epithet, or else her dead name, Russell.

Rose developed the habit of forcing herself to be hyper-aware of her surroundings, so she couldn’t be surprised. She would use the handicapped restrooms, which had a locking door. It had only taken one time of being trapped in the girls’ restroom with Marissa to teach Rose to stay away from there. The bruises from that encounter lasted a week, as Marissa was taller and more powerfully built, and there were no witnesses.

For the most part Rose would ignore the hurtful comments, and even some of the hitting. She didn’t report the abuse, because she had no faith she would be believed, or that it would make a difference. But on one occasion a teacher witnessed Marissa landing a punch on Rose’s back, and she was suspended for a week.

As far as Marissa was concerned that was all on Russell. Why should she be punished when it was the pervert’s fault for being at the school? When she returned she tried even harder to harass Rose.

School was not entirely terrible for Rose. She had two friends, a boy and a girl, Freddy and Gina, who had known her since they were kids, and had stuck with her. Both did what they could to protect her, and stand up for her. She was grateful for their support, but sad that it was necessary.

-o0o-

Dispersal

Fortunately very few things last forever, and high school was no exception. Rose got away from the city and went on to have a decent college experience. After graduation she found a satisfactory job several states over from her own.

Marissa married right out of high school. She ended up with Jack Farley, whom she had had her eye on all during school. Within eight months she was pregnant, and gave birth to a small baby boy, who they named Jake. He wasn’t premature, but only weighed five pounds and two ounces, and as he grew he was always one of the smaller kids in his classes. Jack tried to guide him into manly things and sports, but he was not built for it and never showed any interest. He made friends with Penny, the girl next door and the two spent a lot of time together. When Marissa observed them playing, it always seemed like they played girl games, and his way of expressing himself seemed feminine. She felt some revulsion when she saw that, but he was her son, so she thought she could correct this.

Like Jack, she tried to get Jake interested in boy games, but he said playing with Penny was more fun. Marissa began to think that spending all this time with Penny was turning him into a sissy, and she started limiting the time they could play together, which made Jake very unhappy. And this did not stop his feminine ways and gestures.

-o0o-

By the time Jake turned thirteen he had known that he was a girl inside for some time. He also knew that his mother would not tolerate that. She was worse than his dad, who had just given up on spending time with him. Jake overheard him telling Marissa that he “couldn’t deal with the kid.”

When the day came that Jake thought he couldn’t delay any longer explaining to his parents that he wasn’t really a boy, it did not go well.

“What are you talking about, Jake,” asked his mother. “You. Are. A. BOY. PERIOD!”

“But—” he started to say, when she slapped him across the mouth.

“There are no Buts, Jake. I don’t want to hear you mention this again!!” Marissa yelled. “Do you understand?!”

Jake slowly nodded his head, while tears he couldn’t stop trailed down his cheeks.

Jack looked disgusted, and decided to let Marissa handle the whole mess.

Marissa was under the mistaken impression that this whole phase was now over. She had made it clear that he was a boy, and he would have to start acting like one. She wasn’t going to tolerate her kid being like that freak, Rose, in high school. No.

Over the next two years she started correcting ways Jake was acting. Day after day he was told he was gesturing wrong, using limp-wristed motions, or standing like a girl. He had to stop using words that usually were only heard from girls. Boys weren’t supposed to see a flower and call it pretty or lovely. There would be no more giggling. She kept hammering away at him, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

-o0o-

It was Marissa who discovered the body, hanging in the basement. Her shriek could be heard a half a county away. And once she read the suicide note, which placed the blame squarely on her shoulders, she broke down completely. She didn’t see how she could ever get over this; it just hurt too much.

To her surprise Jack did not even seem to care much that his only child was dead. It was as if once Jake had said those fateful words, “I’m really a girl,” he had died then. She couldn’t believe Jack could be so callous. She sat alone night after night, while he went to bars or hung out who-knew-where. He didn’t want to sit around with someone who was such a downer.

All this time alone forced her to think about her words and actions, and what they had led to. She reread the suicide note again and again, trying to find something she could latch onto to understand what would cause someone to go to such drastic measures. Jake considered himself a girl inside, but she only judged him by his male body, he had written. She ignored the pain he was constantly in trying to be something he was not. She didn’t care about his feelings, only about her own.

She was truly devastated, and finally she understood that her own intolerance had cost the life of her child; it was a hard truth to live with. Then her thoughts turned to Rose, and the guilt descended on her for the way she had treated Rose, who, she now understood, had gone through something similar to Jake.

Marissa’s marriage quickly deteriorated after this. Jack didn’t enjoy being with someone so depressed, and quietly blamed her for their son killing himself, choosing to totally forget about his own attitude and its effects.

-o0o-

All alone now, Marissa found a job, and strove to understand what had happened to her life. She started reading about transgender people, and so much of what she read sounded similar to what she had experienced with Jake. She was appalled at the suicide rate, especially when the trans person had no support from his or her family. In her head she started to deliberately refer to Jake as her, and a daughter. She was sad she had never discovered what his female name would have been.

Three years after this she got an invitation to the Twentieth reunion of her high school class. She didn’t see how she could face them with the shambles her life had become. And she knew she now looked much older than her thirty-eight years. But a few months later, when she received the second notice, it occurred to her that if Rose was going to be in attendance, she could apologize. At least Rose, unlike Jake, was alive—probably—for her to apologize to. She decided she would attend.

-o0o-

Rose had had a rather lonely twenty years, and when she got the reunion invitation, had no intention of going back to that hell hole of a school. True, she hadn’t seen Freddy and Gina for all that time, and wondered how their lives were going. But what if Marissa was there? That was one person she did not want to see again. Although she was a lot more self-assured than she had been twenty years ago, she was still insecure about her personal safety, and hardly ever went anywhere alone at night.

She had held a number of jobs, and made a decent living, but had never found love. She wasn’t home enough to take care of a dog or cat. Instead she had two fat goldfish, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, so that she wasn’t the only living thing in her apartment. Sometimes she would spend all evening gazing at them, swimming back and forth in their tank. There were a couple of casual acquaintances from work she saw from time to time, but they weren’t like best friends. She tried a number of hobbies, but decided she had no talent for any of them, especially the arts or crafts ones.

By the time she got the second notice about the reunion, she was surprised to find she had started to think about going. It would be nice to see Freddy and Gina again, and she figured she would be able to keep an eye out for Marissa and stay away from her.

-o0o-

Paths converge

There was, of course, a dinner at the reunion, and, thank goodness, it was at a hotel, and not at the high school. Rose was able to find Freddy and Gina and their spouses there, and the five of them had a table together. It had been worth it just to see them and get to know them again. They seemed thrilled to see Rose and reconnect, and she was happy to see them too. This time they promised to stay in touch. She didn’t see Marissa, so either she was at a table on the other side of the big room, or had decided not to attend.

There were the usual announcements and bantering addresses by some of the class, some of it amusing, but most of it not. There was dancing afterward, which Rose didn’t join in on. As she sat at the table she saw someone heading toward her. It took a minute, but she finally realized that it was Marissa. Her first impression was that she didn’t look like she’d had an easy time of it. Rose stood up quickly and tried to blend in to some of the clusters of people standing around watching the dancing.

After a while she was pretty sure she had lost Marissa, and then it occurred to her she needed the Ladies Room, so she left the ballroom and headed down the hall. Once she had finished inside, she opened the door, only to find Marissa coming down the hall toward her. She stopped and tremblingly fumbled in her purse and pulled out her pepper spray. Her hand was shaking as she held it out like a gun.

“S-stop right there,” she said, when Marissa was about fifteen feet away.

Marissa’s heart broke a little more, seeing how afraid of her Rose still was. She halted where she was and said, “Rose, I—I just want to apologize to you.”

Rose wondered if she heard that correctly. For one thing Marissa had never called her Rose. And, apologize to her?

“Why?” Rose asked, still afraid.

Her voice breaking, Marissa said, “Rose, my own child chose death because of my attitude. She was like you, but thanks to my intolerance I didn’t allow her to be who she said she was. So I just wanted to apologize to you while I still have the chance. I’ll never be able to apologize to my daughter.”

Rose saw how affected Marissa was, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Rose’s natural compassion came out. She put the pepper spray back in her purse, and the two went to sit on a bench in the hall. Marissa told her the whole story. How Jake liked playing with Penny, how her husband basically ignored Jake, how she tried to train him to be more like a boy, finding his body, her husband leaving her.

“I’m sorry, Marissa. Life sure doesn’t always turn out the way we think it’s supposed to. I admit there were times when I thought it just seemed too hard to go on, but at least my parents weren’t against me.”

There was a silence then, while Rose thought, ‘here I am sitting together with my enemy, and she apologized. I really wasn’t kidding that things don’t turn out like we expect. I guess it was worth coming after all.’

Marissa was thinking about Rose’s last statement, about her parents, which made her ashamed for the role she had played with Jake. But she was also grateful that Rose had allowed her to apologize and talk. It had been worth coming, and she felt a little better.

They turned to each other and both said, at the same time, “Thank you.” This caused them both to smile small smiles.

They didn’t part that evening as friends, but at least not as enemies.

The End.

For the purposes of this story, only time will help the adhesive come off.

In the hallway of his dorm Todd Rhodes saw the flyer about the party on the Quad and decided to go. He was never that great at socializing, but thought this could be a good opportunity to try, try again. Maybe this time he’d even meet a nice girl. Girls generally did not take much notice of him, and he got very nervous talking to them, but hope springs eternal. He was a pretty nice guy, and could be categorized as mildly nerdy. He was not very large or manly, but, he thought, a girl could certainly do worse than him.

He ambled out to the Quad. The weather was beautiful, the band was playing, and plenty of people were there. To his delight, while he was standing there listening to the band, a pretty girl approached him, stood near him for a bit, and then started a conversation.

“Hey,” she said. “Pretty good music, isn’t it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, surprised she had actually talked to him.

“They remind me a little of the Screeching Leeches.”

“I think I’ve heard of them, but I haven’t heard their music.”

“Oh, you’d like them if you like this! It’s so cool that the college puts on parties like this, isn’t it?”

“Yes! It gives people a chance to get outside and, um, socialize. It’s great.”

After a little more small talk, she said, “Hey, I could use a drink. Let’s go over to the drinks table.”

Todd, who would have followed her anywhere, trailed her over to the table, where she got a can of soda. Being very frugal, he asked for water from the pitcher there, and they moved away into the shade of a tree.

“I’m Judy Smythe, by the way,” she said.

“Todd Rhodes.”

She was so engaging and seemed so interested in him that before he knew it he’d told her his major, what his favorite games were, and where his dorm was.

“Hey! Look over there! It’s Cindy Walker!” She waved at someone way across the Quad.

For a while Todd looked where she had pointed, but he couldn’t see anyone waving back, and didn’t know Cindy Walker anyway. He took another drink of his water.

“I guess she couldn’t see me,” said Judy.

Not long after that he told her he had to sit down.

-o0o-

When Todd woke up, he found he was curled up on a couch in the common room of his dorm. He felt really lousy. His head ached, feeling like it was being squeezed in a vise, and his body just didn’t feel right. When he sat up he discovered part of the reason. Looking down, he saw he was dressed in a black, very short, shiny vinyl dress, and he found he was peering down at a realistic-looking cleavage. What the hell? The last thing he recalled was walking to the party on the Quad, and that was it. He had no idea how he’d gotten back to the dorm. The clock on the wall showed 9:35. He’d been asleep for more than twelve hours!! People passing in and out of the room stared at him, but didn’t say anything.

He got up to go to his room and found he was laced into four-inch stilettos. Not equipped to deal with removing them now he tottered into the stairwell, leaning against walls on the way, and somehow made it up to the second floor. At his door he started to pat his pockets for his key, but there were no pockets. Instead there was a tiny clutch purse dangling from one wrist. The key was inside, along with his wallet and a couple of tampons. He attempted to hurry in to use the bathroom, but almost turned an ankle. When he entered the bathroom and tried to take care of business he found his manhood missing, and a vagina in its place. The headache wasn’t helping him process this, and he almost passed out from panic. He was able to pull himself together, drag down some lacy black panties and sit down on the toilet. Somehow, in a way he couldn’t understand, he was still able to pee.

When he was finished and got up to look in the mirror, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl looking back at him looked kind of like how he imagined a hooker would look. The makeup wasn’t overdone, exactly, but with the short black sleeveless dress, dark hose and exposed cleavage, the entire picture—to him—said Hooker. He saw his long hair had been cut and styled, his eyebrows had been plucked into delicate arches, and he now had pierced ears and earrings. He looked much more like a girl than he was willing to admit to himself.

This was all giving him a headache on top of the original headache, and he lurched back into the room and sat down, with his head in his hands. After wrestling the stilettos off, he gradually lay down and fell asleep again, hoping this would turn out to be a nightmare.

-o0o-

When Todd woke up again his head felt much better, but he was disappointed to see he was still dressed as before. Deciding the first thing would be to get out of the tight dress he searched around for an opening on the front, belatedly remembering many dresses had back zippers. Contorting himself in ways he didn’t know he was capable of, he managed to get the zipper down enough to grab it from below, got it the rest of the way down and peeled the dress off.

Now he looked down to see realistic-looking breasts in a black bra. He was able to get the bra off, but to his shock and horror found that the breasts would not come off. Pulling on them just hurt his chest. And they were big, maybe a D cup.

“This cannot be happening!” he moaned.

Pulling the panties down a bit, he tried to look past the breasts and examine his groin, but they really were in the way. He could see there was some sort of garment under the panty, but it, too, was glued on, and presented a very flat front.

“How can I go to class like this?” he asked himself.

Getting up he went to his closet and discovered all his clothes were gone. In their place were one sexy pink blouse with a very plunging neckline, with a micro-miniskirt; a kind of sissy dress, for lack of a better word; and a blue nineteen-fifties housewife dress with a full, frilly skirt in a polka-dot print, short sleeves with white cuffs, and a floppy bow at the neck. On the floor was one pair of blue two-inch pumps with a bow at the pointy toe, which color matched the housewife dress. He stood there looking at all of it, his mind spinning in place.

A thought came to him, and he looked in the dresser drawers, only to find the same story. All his clothes were gone, and in their place were panties, a couple of bras and a cincher.

“Who did I piss off? I can’t believe this…”

Since he was starting to feel a little exposed and cold, he managed to get on the fifties dress, as it seemed the least terrible of the choices. The bow at the neck wouldn’t come off.

He had some candy and crackers in his room, so he ate those rather than appear at the dining hall looking as he did. He was just on the edge of a real panic attack, but managed to keep it at bay.

When he finished the crackers he booted up his laptop and looked in horror at the desktop picture, It had been replaced with one of him in his finery, seated next to three other girls, who all had masks on. In the picture he looked dazed, and they were holding him upright, their arms around his waist. This really was not good. Pictures had been taken. Who knows where they could be by now?

Opening his e-mail he found one from his parents. They had apparently been sent pictures, were shocked at his behavior and put the final nail in his coffin.

“You are no son of ours anymore. Our son would never dress like that or even contemplate the sick act depicted. As of this moment you are cut off.”

Todd just sat there, staring at the e-mail. In just hours his life had changed…been destroyed, in ways he wouldn’t have thought possible. He was adrift. His college education was over. His home life was over. He had very little cash on hand, so once the college threw him out, what was he supposed to do?

-o0o-

Megan Novak was sitting in her apartment with her three girlfriends, Mary, Joyce and Lisa, and they were happily recounting to her how they had fixed up the creep, Todd. Joyce, using a fake name, had approached him at the Quad party, slipped a drug into his drink, and then the three of them had gotten him out of there, to Mary’s apartment, and gone to work, having a good time changing him into a not-bad-looking girl. They’d used industrial-strength glue for the breasts and faux vagina, plucked his eyebrows, shaved everything, styled his hair, pierced his ears and painted his nails. While Mary and Joyce worked on him, Lisa took his sizes and met Megan at the local thrift store, where they picked out the clothes for him. Megan really wanted to be involved in that part! They should be as humiliating as possible. They entered his dorm and had taken all his clothes and tossed them into a dumpster. They took a series of pictures of him, including a risqué one involving a sex toy, then had gotten into his laptop and mailed pictures to his parents, and as a parting gift, used one picture for his desktop background. Once that was all done, they left him in the dorm’s common room.

Megan was pleased. This was all her plan for revenge on Todd for raping her. Somehow he’d gotten off with just a warning, and she wanted to punish him. Her peace of mind and sense of security had been shattered. Why not his? She wasn’t ordinarily a vindictive person, but this attack just went too deep, and humiliation seemed like the best course. Her girlfriends assured her they would take care of carrying out the plan. She’d be in the clear. Joyce, the only one he had seen, was heavily made up, and they doubted he’d ever be able to identify her.

“We thought he’d be a lot bigger, from what you said. But he was pretty easy to handle,” said Mary.

That statement gave Megan pause; she remembered him being good-sized, but maybe he had just lost a lot of weight since the rape.

-o0o-

Todd stayed in his room the rest of the day, in a daze. He could barely think. He needed to form a plan for what to do, but his brain refused to work. Who could he report this to? Did it even matter, since his parents cut him off, and he wouldn’t be attending classes anymore? He could use some good advice, and he looked in the student handbook to see if there were any counseling services.

Above all he still wanted to know why this had happened. He was aware that Barry Fox, his high school nemesis, also went to this college. He’d hoped he would be rid of Barry when they finished high school, but sadly, Barry was going to this school too. He had been very careful to avoid him. Barry, for no reason he could figure out, had always had it in for him, and mercilessly teased him and bullied him. Could he have had anything to do with this?

What was the last thing he remembered? Umm, he had gone to a big party on the Quad. But that’s all he could recall until he woke up at the dorm.

Two days later the college sent him an e-mail informing him he had to be out by the end of term, which was three weeks away.

He had no idea what to do. Where could he go? How could he get the boobs off? How could he buy new clothes? He really needed help. Thinking about any of this was overwhelming him, and he cried a number of times.

-o0o-

Todd wanted to go to see a counselor, but he chickened out each time he went outside. It was one thing to be outside, but quite another to talk with someone looking as he did. With the few dollars he still had he bought a little food at the nearby convenience store to bring back to his dorm room. It was so hard to make himself go out the door and face people, but he steeled his nerves and walked out wearing the pumps, which were much easier to handle than the stilettos. The dress attracted some attention, just because it was so retro-looking, but this was a college campus, and students do sometimes experiment. No one stopped him, no one pointed and stared. One “other” girl wearing a retro dress gave him an approving look, but otherwise no one at all seemed to realize he was a boy.

As the days passed he stayed in his room, eating almost nothing, and spiraling into depression. Finally, just to get out of his dorm, he began to go outside and just walk around, not caring where he was going, but just wandering around campus. He wore the 1950s dress all the time, because the others were just not acceptable. And as soon as he had started coming out of the dorm he’d realized he needed a bra to stop the bouncing around, so he’d been alternating between the two they left for him, choosing not to wear the black, lacy one. It was just too…feminine.

-o0o-

A week and a half after the attack on Todd, Megan happened to see a very thin girl on campus, wandering around in a daze. Megan’s attention was drawn to her because she was wearing the distinctive housewife dress and matching shoes she had helped pick out to humiliate Todd. There couldn’t be two dresses like that. How did this girl end up wearing it? This was too odd. She approached her.

“Excuse me. Do you mind me asking where you got that dress?”

Todd looked at her blankly; his mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Not one person had spoken to him since this had started. Megan started to think that possibly something had gone wrong with her revenge plan. ‘If this is a guy, it’s not the guy who raped me. If it really is a guy, he’s a little, scrawny guy who looks totally lost,’ she thought. ‘If this is who the girls worked on, we have made a really awful mistake.’ With a feeling of dread building in the pit of her stomach, she took his arm and led him, unresisting, to a bench. By now the makeup had worn off and he’d scrubbed it off too, but he still looked like a girl.

She looked into his lost, sad eyes and played her hunch.

“Is your name by any chance Todd Rhodes?”

“Y-, yes. How did you know?”

Her heart sank. And she was a little confused because he pretty much sounded like a girl.

“A terrible mistake has been made, Todd.”

“A mistake,” he said, uncomprehending.

She didn’t really want to admit to her plan of revenge, but it had obviously affected an innocent party, and now she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

“My name’s Megan Novak. Todd, will you come with me? I’d like to hear your story, and I may have some things to explain to you. Have you eaten today?”

He just shook his head. His meal plan was cut off days ago. Besides, he hadn’t felt hungry anyway.

She took his hand and led him to her apartment. Being well off meant she could afford an off-campus dwelling. She kept looking at him. He looked so much like a girl, and even seemed to be moving like a girl. They entered the apartment and she sat him at the table and made him a simple meal. Todd pulled the pumps off of his aching feet.

“I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me,” he said.

“Let me tell you after you’ve gotten some food into you.”

He slowly ate the meal in a sort of stupor, thanked her, and then they went to sit on the couch.

She smiled at him encouragingly and asked, “Will you tell me what happened to you?”

He was a little more alert now, though still a bit numb, and answered, “Well, okay, um, I went to that party on the Quad the other week, and that’s the last thing I remember about it. The next thing I knew I woke up in my dorm, I was dressed like a hooker, and I was all made up. My clothes were all gone, and three pretty bad outfits were left in their place. Then I found out someone had apparently e-mailed my parents pictures of me in the dress, and as a result they disowned me and cut me off. (They’re very conservative.) The boobs and a fake vagina are glued on, and I have no way to get them off. I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”

She looked down, horrified at the results of her plan, and then back up at him. She had broken this person’s life. How in the world could she repair it? She took a deep breath.

“Todd, let me tell you how this happened. A few months ago I was raped, and the rapist’s name was Todd Rhodes. He violated me and took away my sense of security, and I wanted to punish him, because he really only got a slap on the wrists—I don’t know why.”

Todd looked at her sympathetically. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said, and laid a hand on her arm for a moment.

She gave him a sharp look; he seemed completely sincere. She wasn’t used to guys being gentlemen anymore. And she was a bit confused by the feminine gesture.

“I decided to make him suffer, and I hatched the plan that, unfortunately, was unleashed on you by mistake. My friends did the dirty work, so they didn’t know what he looked like. We discovered a Todd Rhodes was going to this school, and the name seemed unusual enough so that we all assumed you were him. So this is my fault. I am so sorry this happened to you, and I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. If you want me to talk to your parents…”

“You’d be wasting your breath,” he interrupted. “They have made up their minds about me. They won’t listen to anyone once they’ve decided something. I know. I could cure cancer and it wouldn’t change their minds. I’m really screwed. I have less than two weeks to vacate my dorm room ”

“Then you’ll stay here with me. It’s the least I can do for ruining your life.”

“I couldn’t do that! You don’t even know me!”

It was against his nature to take advantage of people, even if it meant he’d be on the streets.

“What will you do otherwise? I take it you have no other place to go.”

He hung his head, and she patted his hand.

“It will work out somehow, Todd, while I try and figure out how to help you out of this mess I created.

“There’s some more bad news, though. The glue that was used on you is industrial strength, and we didn’t bother to find a solvent for it. You may have to wear the breasts and vagina until new skin grows and they come off.” She bit her bottom lip, looking for his reaction.

He stared at her for a few moments. “You know what? I don’t care anymore. I’m not going to class anyway, so what does it matter? My life is over.”

‘My god, I’ve screwed this up so bad,’ she thought. ‘How am I going to make this up to him? I can’t give him back his parents, and I can’t exactly pay for his education.’

While she was thinking, Todd had leaned back to relax, and had almost instantly fallen asleep. She thought he looked sweet, and so much like a girl. This eliminated much of the unease she usually felt around men since the rape. The girls had really done a nice job on his hair and eyebrows. She found it interesting that the earrings were still in place. She put an afghan over him and went to her room to contact her three friends.

She texted them all that they had “pranked” the wrong Todd Rhodes, and that the guy they had drugged was innocent. She was aware that Todd could take them to court over drugging him and what really amounted to an assault, although she didn’t mention that. The rest of them were as horrified as Megan over this.

-o0o-

When Todd woke up an hour later he was disoriented and didn’t know where he was. Looking around he started to recognize Megan’s apartment.

“Megan?” he called out, uncertainly.

“Here I am,” she said, appearing in the room.

“Could you please show me where the bathroom is?”

“Sure, it’s just down this hall, on the right. Are you okay?”

“You know, I actually do feel better. A lot of this last week I spent wondering why this had happened to me. It was just so, so… out of the blue. I couldn’t imagine what I had done to piss someone off this much. There’s a guy here who was at high school with me, and he sometimes made my life a living hell. I thought maybe he was behind this.”

“I’m so sorry, Todd. As you know, it was nothing you did.”

He went into the bathroom. By this time Todd knew how to deal with the full skirts when sitting on the toilet. When he was finished, he came back out and asked if he could have some tea.

“Of course. Come in to the kitchen and I’ll show you where things are.”

She gave him a whirlwind tour of the kitchen, and then put the kettle on.

They sat down with their teas, and she asked him about his life.

“Uh, well, as you might have guessed, my parents are very strict, but at least until now they didn’t seem that unfair. My older sister and I weren’t abused or anything, but there were a lot of rules growing up.”

“What were you studying?”

“Oh, computer science. What about you, Megan?”

“My parents are pretty well off, and I have to say I was spoiled growing up. Oh, like you I have an older sister. I’m studying business, and hope to land a job with the multinational firm my father works for. And I’m a junior.”

“I’m a freshman. I mean… I was a freshman. I like computers, but I don’t know what I was going to do with my degree.”

“Will your sister still be friends with you? Or will she do what your parents tell her to do?”

“She’s out of school and on her own. She’s pretty independent. I think she’ll still talk to me, but I don’t want to make trouble for her either, in case they tell her she can’t communicate with me.”

‘He seems like such a thoughtful guy,’ Megan mused, though she was also having a kind of disconnect between what she was hearing and sensing from him, and thinking of him as a man. He just didn’t seem like a man at all.

“Listen, Todd, there’s no reason to wait until you’re kicked out. Why don’t we go get your things from the dorm room and bring them back here?”

“You’re really serious about letting me stay here?”

“Of course I am. I’m not going to let you suffer any more from my mistake if I can help it. Are you game?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh, first, we should find some different clothes for you. That dress really sticks out.”

He was almost as tall as Megan, but so thin now that she couldn’t see her pants fitting him. They went into her room and she looked in the closet.

“Sorry, Todd, but I don’t think my pants are going to work for you, so let’s try a nice top and skirt. Turn around and I’ll unzip you.”

He turned around. A skirt and top was certainly no worse than this old dress. When he pulled off the dress, she saw he had the cincher on. He noticed her eyes on it.

“The dress wouldn’t zip up without this on,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“You’re already so thin; I was just surprised you had to use that too.”

He gratefully took it off, and she handed him the top, a light blue boat neck, long sleeved one, and an almost-knee-length skirt. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to be there with her wearing only panties and a bra. He put the clothes on.

“You look pretty nice in that. Those clothes really suit you much better than that dress. I hesitate to say it, Todd, but you’re very pretty.”

Blushing, he said, “Thank you. Um, you are too.”

-o0o-

On the way to the dorm it suddenly occurred to Todd that he wasn’t having any trouble talking with Megan. Ordinarily he’d be tongue-tied one on one like this, especially with someone so pretty. He mused about this until they arrived.

At the dorm, without his clothes, Todd didn’t have that many possessions to gather. After they had packed his cases, he packed all the girl clothes in too. “So they don’t find them and start thinking how weird I am,” he explained.

They drove back to her apartment and each took a case.

Leading him through the hall, Megan said, “This spare room will be yours, Todd, for as long as you need it.”

She heard a kind of sob behind her, turned and saw tears coming down Todd’s cheeks.

“Sorry. It just kind of got to me,” he sniffled.

Putting down the case, she turned to him and opened her arms. Hesitantly he stepped forward and into the hug. She tightened her arms around him, and he cried on her shoulder.

“We will get you through this,” she whispered.

-o0o-

Hugging Megan felt very wonderful to Todd. He felt so wrung out, and she was being so nice to him. The “prank” seemed like an honest mistake on her friends’ parts. He couldn’t imagine how awful it would feel to be raped, and it was hard to blame her for wanting the guy punished. He hadn’t yet fully examined how he felt about his parents. Their mistake was a lot more about an error in judgment and about intolerance than Megan’s mistake. And she was trying to make it right. His parents were never going to back down, even if they were proven wrong. They really didn’t like being wrong.

What was he going to do, living here with Megan? Was he going to find a job until the glue let go? Then what? And, oh my god! The job would have to be as a girl. He had looked in the mirror once the makeup was off, and he knew he still looked like a girl. The hair and eyebrows just emphasized what turned out to be a feminine face, and of course the big boobs didn’t help him look any more masculine.

“Todd?” she said, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Yes?” he said into her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He took a deep, trembling breath and said, “Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you.”

They let each other go, and brought his things into the room. She handed him a tissue to wipe off his tears.

“I’m going to leave you to put your stuff away. We’ll need to get you some clothes, but that doesn’t have to be today.”

He nodded at her, and gave her a smile.

‘How can he even smile at me after what I’ve done to him?’

She left for her own room and sat there for a while, thinking. They’d have to get him clothes, but they’d have to be female clothes, until he didn’t have a bust anymore. She needed to feed him up somewhat. What was he going to do all day while she was in class?? She didn’t feel it was right to put him to work, but she also realized he couldn’t just sit there all day doing nothing. Was he one of those guys who sat and played video games all day? That couldn’t be healthy.

-o0o-

Sighing, she called Mary and told her what had happened since they last talked. Mary said all the girls wanted to come and apologize to Todd. Megan told her it was probably a little too soon for that, and that he was still very fragile. She then lowered her voice.

“Mary… I’m having trouble thinking of him as a He. He’s so natural as a woman. I don’t want to offend him, but it’s hard not to treat him like a girlfriend.”

“Hmm,” said Mary, who was studying psychology. “Maybe this is actually an opportunity for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he truly is that natural, he may be gender dysphoric. This is a huge chance for him to see what living as a woman would be like.”

“I see. Well, unless someone comes up with a solvent, he is stuck with the breasts and vagina for at least a month if not longer. I was trying to think about what he could do during the day. Whatever it is it will have to be as a woman.”

“I wish I could help with that, Megan, but you’ll have to talk with him and see if he has any ideas. It also might not be a bad idea if he would see one of the counselors, like at the LGBT Center on campus. But you can’t force him into it. And there’s the problem of, what does he tell them about why he’s wearing that stuff?”

“Yeah, you’re right, Mary. O Lord! I wish we hadn’t done this.”

“So do I, but you can’t go back…”

“Right. Thanks Mary.”

-o0o-

Megan made dinner for the two of them that evening. She knew they’d have to start discussing hard topics.

“Todd, do you have any idea at all what you’d like to do while I’m at class during the day?”

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t. I’ve been having trouble thinking straight. Um, if your computer was broken I could probably fix it,” he said, half joking.

“You know, Todd, that’s really not a bad idea. Fixing computers, that is. You could do it freelance!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Megan. I mean, I can probably do it, but I’d have to do it as a girl.”

She reached over and held his hand.

“Todd, I want to tell you something, and it’s not to hurt you or make fun of you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You look and behave a lot like a young woman. In fact I’ve been having trouble thinking of you as a guy. And, confidentially, ever since the rape I’ve been very nervous around men, but I’m very comfortable with you. Listen, you’re not going to be able to get rid of the, um, secondary sexual characteristics any time soon, so I think you’ll find that presenting as a woman is going to make life a lot easier than as a guy with boobs.”

He turned red and looked down at his plate.

“I know I look like a girl. Do I really, like, act like one?”

“I don’t know how you acted before, but it just seems you do it naturally. You have a very gentle manner, you’re graceful... Even the way you sit and some of your gestures. If you were to use a girl’s name, I don’t think anyone would question you at all. Since you have no choice about the breasts, this will give you a unique opportunity to see how the Other Half lives.”

“Oh, wow. This is not how I imagined my first year at college.”

“Todd, I’m going to make a suggestion to you. Why not go see the counselor at the LBGT Center on campus? Maybe they can give you some help dealing with living like this for a while.”

“I guess it couldn’t…hurt,” said Todd. “But what if they ask me why I’m in this kind of odd situation? I don’t want to get you and your friends in trouble.”

“That’s so incredibly sweet that you want to protect us, Todd, after what we did to you. If you don’t want to tell the truth about that, we’ll cook up some story to explain it. Maybe… an accidental use of an industrial adhesive while you were getting ready for a costume party. Um…and then some girl wanted to see how you’d look, so they did your face and hair. And now you’re, say, wondering about your sexuality. Something like that?”

He kind of giggled at that (which Megan did not fail to notice).

“It sort of holds together.”

“Todd, while you were walking around campus, did anyone at all accost you and accuse you of being a guy?”

He reddened again.

“No. No one. You know, that bully I told you about used to tease me about being a fairy, and girlie. I never knew why he thought that, but I’ve looked in the mirror once or twice since this happened. I can see how girlie I look even without that makeup on.”

Still holding his hand, Megan nodded. “Yes, you do. When I first saw you I didn’t have any doubt you were a girl. I couldn’t understand how a girl had gotten hold of that dress that was meant for the other Todd. Would it be okay if we thought of a name for you? If we happen to be out near people, I don’t want to embarrass you by calling you Todd.”

“Okay.”

“So do you have any preferences or ideas? Was there a girl who you had a crush on, or whose name you liked?”

“Uhhh, you’ve been the nicest to me of any girl I ever met.”

She looked at him sadly. “Oh Todd.”

-o0o-

Three months later Todd, now Terri, had just finished up installing a new hard drive for a client. Many of her jobs were for the extensive network of friends of Megan. Terri was working out of Megan’s apartment, and had been thinking of herself as female for about a month. The LGBT Center counselor had helped her realize she was actually more female than male in her brain, though that took a while to accept. Growing up she did admire her sister, Gayle, greatly, but had never had dreams of being her.

“I don’t really understand this. I thought I was a normal boy until this happened to me. Now, suddenly, everyone is telling me I’m so natural as a girl that they can’t even tell,” Terri said to the counselor, recrossing her legs in a feminine way, adjusting her skirt and examining her fingernails, palm down.

“It seems that there had to be a girl hiding in there somewhere, Terri. Just from my observation there is nothing about you that says Boy or Man. I wish I had prior behavior to compare with. You seem very comfortable with this, and I understand you aren’t here for me to talk you out of or into anything, but for you to understand more about how this happened.”

“Right. The only thing I can imagine is that I’m kind of like that Woody Allen character, Zelig, who adapts himself to any person he meets.”

“There could be something to that. Some people often unconsciously mimic an accent when they spend time with someone different than they are. You could have a personality that’s somewhat like that.”

Nothing was put down in stone at these sessions, but Terri came to understand that this was who she was, and she was coming to enjoy it. Men and women treated her with more politeness.

Once she committed she was amazed at how easy she found adapting to life as a female. She reveled in her newfound femininity. Going outside still made her a bit nervous, and she did her best to always be with a friend.

The glue had finally released the breasts and vagina, and she was truly surprised at how much of a sense of loss she felt without them. She just didn’t feel comfortable at all without breasts now, so Megan bought her prosthetics, but a C instead of a D. Since she didn’t like seeing the bulge down below, Megan also got her a replacement gaff.

Terri hadn’t contacted her sister, not wanting to put her at odds with her parents, but she did miss her. The parents had cut off Todd’s phone right away, so her sister couldn’t have called her. She was still sad that she hadn’t even gotten an e-mail from her. Gayle must have taken their parents’ side against Todd, and it made her very sad to think that.

Megan had been nothing but kind and helpful to Terri. She’d bought her clothes, fed her, and gently helped her modify her actions whenever she displayed male behavior. She was endlessly patient, and Terri had fallen in love with her, but wouldn’t have dreamt of acting on it. She was sure Megan would prefer a strong, manly man.

Though she didn’t know yet how far she wanted to go in her transition, after a year she legally changed her name to Terri. She thought about changing the last name to Novak, but thought that might cause some kerfuffle with Megan’s parents.

Megan’s friends, Joyce, Lisa and Mary, had made friends with her, and they all supported her. She was accepted as a member of their little group.

-o0o-

Behind the scenes Megan had contacted Gayle. They spoke on the phone and Megan explained to her all that had happened to Todd, how he was unfairly cut off by his parents, and that he had now realized he had a very strong female side and was living as Terri. At first he hadn’t had much choice, but had ended up really embracing it.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me, Megan. He was never like the other boys in the neighborhood, and he always wanted to hang around with me. I’ve been going crazy worrying about what happened to him. My parents never explained the problem to me; they just warned me to stay out of contact.”

“She was worried about coming between you and your parents, Gayle. She didn’t want to cause you any trouble with them. And maybe she was worried what you’d think of her. She’s one of the most considerate people I think I’ve ever met.”

“That poor kid. Of course I love her! It may take me a while, but I’m going to come visit, and we’ll surprise her. The heck with my parents. I’m so glad you called and told me what was going on!”

“I’m so happy to know that, Gayle. I’ve hurt her so much, and I’m so glad she still has a sister.”

“And I’m glad she has a friend like you, Megan. But from what you tell me, it sounds like this whole experience helped her discover who she really is, and you can’t put a price on that.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but I still feel bad about this, and it certainly showed me that revenge isn’t worth it.”

-o0o-

Three weeks later Terri was at home with Megan. The other three girlfriends were there for a dinner. When the doorbell rang, Megan asked Terri to get it.

Opening the door she found herself face to face with her sister. Tears sprang from her eyes; she lunged forward and threw her arms around her.

“Oh my god. Gayle!! I can’t believe you’re here! I didn’t know if I would ever see you again,” she sobbed.

They just stood there hugging for what, to the other girls, seemed like hours. They all had big smiles on their faces. Finally they got up as a group, circled the two and slowly walked the still-hugging siblings into the room with tiny little steps.

“You can let go of me now, honey,” said Gayle. “Let me get a look at my pretty sister.”

Terri reluctantly let go and stepped back. She had on a white embroidered peasant blouse over a flowing knee-length skirt, both of which were given to her by Megan.

“You hardly look like the same person, Terri! You look lovely, but you might want to go fix your panda eyes.”

“Oh!” She ran into the bathroom and cleaned off the steaks of her makeup. She decided not to apply anything new because she felt like she might cry again at any moment. Todd hadn’t done much crying, but Terri found it much easier to cry when the occasion called for it.

She went back into the living room and sat next to her sister, just staring at her as if she might disappear, while she talked to the others. Gayle reached for her hand and held it while she chatted.

“You can sure tell they’re sisters,” observed Lisa.

“I’ll say. There’s a real resemblance,” agreed Joyce.

This gave Terri a very warm feeling, making her smile.

The others saw how she couldn’t keep her eyes off her sister.

“Well, ladies, let’s eat, shall we?” said Megan, and they all adjourned to the dining area.

Terri sat next to Gayle, wanting to be as close as she could. It meant far more to her than she could express to know that Gayle still loved her. She was no longer a hundred percent cut off from her family.

-o0o-

After dinner the others let the two sisters have some time to talk and become used to each other. They sat together on the couch, turned toward each other. Gayle noted the female behaviors, and compared them to what she remembered of Todd. She had never thought of it that way before, but he had acted in a sort of feminine way. Not enough to draw negative attention, but it was there, at least in retrospect.

“Megan told me all about what happened to you, Terri. It all sounds very traumatic. Do you think you’re going to stay as Terri?

“At this point, I think so. When it first happened I thought it was the worst thing that could ever have happened to me. I really thought my life was over. Now I feel more comfortable, or at least more natural, this way, even though I don’t think I ever felt I was that uncomfortable before. Strangely enough, now I don’t have any trouble talking to girls!”

Gayle smiled. “Well, I’m happy to have a little sister. You seem more outgoing now.”

“It’s strange, Gayle. Mom and Dad judged me for something I didn’t really do, and cut me off. Now that I’m doing it on my own, I’d still be “dead” to them. I was really afraid they had manipulated you into hating me too.”

“Not a chance, sis. I’m so happy Megan got in touch with me. I was really worried about you.”

“And I missed you so much!”

Terri teared up, and the two hugged.

“So, tell me what your plans are.”

“I don’t have much of a plan, really. I’ve been fixing peoples’ computers out of the apartment. That will never make me enough money to go back to school. But I’m not really sure what kind of job I would have gotten with a Computer Science degree anyway. So maybe, down the road I’ll take some more classes. I don’t know.”

“Both of us should try and think about this, Terri. Hey, how is Megan treating you?”

“Oh, she’s wonderful! She’s incredibly kind to me, and so patient. She’s bought me clothes and things and… just helped me.”

From the stars in Terri’s eyes, Gayle could see she was smitten with Megan, and wondered how that would turn out.

“So you don’t hold it against her about how her plan changed your life?”

“No, not at all. It might be the best thing that could have happened.”

Gayle’s eyebrows rose. “That’s saying a lot.”

Terri nodded emphatically.

“So you want to stay here with her? ‘Cause you could come and live with me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stay as long as she’ll have me.”

-o0o-

Before Gayle left for home she had a private talk with Megan.

“You know Terri’s in love with you, don’t you?”

Sighing, she said, “Yes, I know. I love her too, but I still feel guilty about how I changed her life.”

“Megan, she told me that what you all did might have been the best thing that could have happened to her!”

“She said that?? Wow!”

“By harming her you gave her a precious gift: the gift of finding out who she really is.”

“Thank you for telling me, Gayle.”

The two hugged and parted.

“Take care of my little sister!”

“Count on it!”

-o0o-

During Megan’s senior year they kept up the same routine, with Terri fixing computers now and then. Megan taught her to cook, and she assumed most of the meal prep duties.

She was considering applying for a scholarship to go back to school, but when Megan graduated, she didn’t want to be separated from her. The plan would be to apply for a college in Megan’s hometown. One evening she decided it was time to broach this subject.

“Megan, are you still planning to go back home and work for your dad?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I, I want to come with you,” Terri blurted.

“Are you sure, Terri? You could go live with Gayle. You know she gave you an open invitation.”

“Yes I know, but, but…I love you, Megan. I don’t want to be apart from you.” Her eyes were brimming with tears.

“Oh, Terri. I love you too. I’ve loved living with you and teaching you stuff. I was kind of hoping you would want to stay with me.”

Happy tears ran down Terri’s cheeks, and she moved closer to Megan to give her a big hug.

“You really love me? I thought you would want some manly guy.”

“Welllll, to tell you the truth I haven’t felt quite the same about men since, well, you know…”

“Oh, but what about your parents. What would they think about me? You know I wouldn’t want to cause any problems for you.”

“Terri, honey, they will just have to understand.”

“Well, this makes me very happy. I think when we move I may try and go back to school, and apply for a scholarship. Are there any colleges where you live?”

“There are one or two, yes. What do you want to study? Still Computer Science?”

“No, I think I want to go into Gender Studies, to help me understand more about myself.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

-o0o-

When graduation rolled around, in May, Megan’s parents came to town to attend. They were very proud of Megan, who was an excellent student with excellent grades. They arranged to meet Megan the day before graduation and to take her out to dinner. They weren’t expecting her to arrive with another young woman, whose hand she was holding.

“Mom, Dad, this is my partner, Terri Rhodes. Terri, my parents, Richard and Diane Novak.”

They were a bit shocked, but her mother more than her father.

“Um, lovely to meet you, Terri,” said Diane.

Terri, who was scared to death, and feeling a whole new depth of shyness, shook hands with her, and the dad.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sir, Ma’am.”

She stepped back, close to Megan, and grabbed her hand again.

“Well!” said Richard, trying to break the tension. “Why don’t we head for the restaurant?”

They all piled into the Novaks’ car, with the girls in the back. Diane desperately wanted to corner her daughter and question her, but now was not the time, so the ride proceeded mostly in silence.

After they were seated at the restaurant and had ordered their meal, Diane contemplated the best way to find out what she wanted most to know: was her daughter a lesbian? It certainly looked like it, and that wouldn’t be good for the Novak name.

“So, how long have you two been together?” was her opening question.

“Oh, a year and a half, don’t you think?” Megan said, looking at Terri.

“Yes, I think so,” she replied.

“Why didn’t you tell us, sweetie?”

“Oh, there was just way too much going on at the time, Mother. Sorry. I did mean to. The truth is that Terri and I lived together for almost a year before we acknowledged our feelings for each other.”

Megan wasn’t very anxious to tell her parents the real story behind her relationship, even though she knew that there was a chance it would eventually come out. She knew exactly what her mother wanted out of her now though, so she cut to the chase.

“Mother, I know that you want to know if I’m a lesbian,” she said quietly. “Well, truthfully I haven’t really been interested in men at all since the rape, so I suppose you could call me a lesbian. Terri is very dear to me, and I’ve been very happy with her,” she said, looking at Terri, who blushed and smiled.

“Well, I must say, dear, that this surprises me. You never showed any tendency in that direction growing up.”

“Let’s just say that circumstances changed the way I felt about that.”

Her mother sensed that there was more to the story than she was saying, but now wasn’t the time to go into it. The rest of the meal was filled with much more general and lighthearted conversation. Terri didn’t speak much, still not sure of how she was being perceived.

-o0o-

Once Megan and Terri had made the move back to Megan’s hometown and found an apartment, they found themselves dining with the Novaks on a regular basis. Diane still wanted to know the story behind the two young women being together. She considered hiring a detective to find out about Terri’s past, but she thought she just might be able to find out on her own.

“Richard, Megan and Terri are coming to dinner tonight. Do you think you could invite Megan into your study to discuss the idea of purchasing that plot of land in Michigan we discussed earlier? With her business background she might be able to come up with some really good ideas of how to go about it, or if it’s even a good thing to invest in.”

“I suppose I could. It’s not really her area of expertise, but I wouldn’t mind her input.”

When dinner was over, Richard asked Megan to step into his office, leaving Diane and Terri alone. Megan was a bit reluctant to leave Terri with her mother, but assumed the talk wouldn’t take long.

Terri helped bring the dishes into the kitchen, and Diane asked her to sit down at the table.

“So, Terri, how did you meet my daughter?” asked Diane.

“Um, we met at college.”

“You had a class together?”

“No, it was… actually at a party,” she said, hating to have to lie about this.

“Oh, a party. So you saw each other across a crowded room and…?”

“No, not that sort of party. It was on the Quad.”

“And? Then what happened?”

“Well, um, I needed a place to stay, and she said she had a room.”

“You weren’t in a dorm?”

“No, I mean, yes, I was, but I couldn’t afford it anymore.”

“So Megan offered the room and you moved in.”

“That’s right. And, like she said, we lived together for a year before we decided to get together.”

“But she was never a lesbian before.”

“Well, you know, she said she’s had trouble with men since she was raped.”

“Yes, she did say that. But I can’t help thinking that you somehow influenced her into a lesbian lifestyle.”

“N- No, I didn’t. But I did love her for being so kind to me.”

“What I think is that you pushed her until she caved in to your pressure and decided to give you a whirl.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Terri, I didn’t raise my daughter to be a lesbian. She comes from a good background. You are obviously a bad influence on her. What I think is that you need to break this off and leave her alone. You don’t really belong in our social set, and I have ways of putting pressure on you until you will find yourself happy to leave.”

Diane smiled as Terri got up and rushed out of the room, grabbing her coat and hat, and left the house in tears. It was now snowing and she wasn’t really dressed for it, but she kept going.

When Diane finally came out of her dad’s office, and found Terri gone, she asked her mother where Terri was.

“Oh, she said she had to leave.”

She said it in a nonchalant way that raised Megan’s suspicions. Megan knew there was no reason for Terri to leave, nowhere else she had to be. Her suspicions crystalized when her mother followed that with, “You don’t really want to have a relationship with another woman, do you? What would our friends think?”

“What did you say to her, Mother?”

“Oh…not too much. I just asked her about how you two met, and told her you are from a respectable family. That kind of thing.”

Megan could see very well how this line of questioning could have easily led to Terri being guilted into leaving.

She leaned over and got in her mother’s face and said, with controlled anger, “I’m going to try and find her. And don’t expect to see me again until you’re ready to apologize for your poorly thought-out actions.”

She threw on her coat and dashed out to the car. The snow was coming down heavily now and it was hard to see pedestrians through the windshield, the wipers working furiously, especially while trying to drive at the same time.

Two miles down the road she finally spotted a woefully underdressed Terri, trying to plod along in shoes not designed for snow and ice. As Megan drove up she slipped and fell, but just sat there on the snowy sidewalk as Megan pulled up and jumped out of the car.

“Terri!”

Terri barely looked up. She was covered in snow and had obviously been crying. Megan helped her up and got her to the car. She turned the heater on full blast and drove them home.

Once inside she got Terri’s snowy coat and shoes off and wrapped her in a heavy quilt. Then she made hot tea and sat next to her on the sofa and held her. Terri’s fingers and toes tingled like mad as the blood flowed back into them. Holding the tea mug felt good and bad at the same time.

When Terri had warmed up enough to talk, she said, “She was so mean! No one has been that mean to me since Barry Fox, the bully. What did I ever do to her?”

“She’s just Lesbophobic. I’m sorry I left you alone with her, honey. I had a feeling that sooner or later she’d try something like that. Actually, now that I think of it, I’ll bet she asked my dad to have me in for a private talk in order to get you alone. I don’t think he was aware of what she had in mind. He doesn’t seem to have any problem with you and me. Anyhow, I told her she wouldn’t be seeing me again until she apologizes.”

“Megan, I don’t want to be the cause of trouble between you and your parents.”

“It’s not you, Terri, it’s her.”

“Huh. That doesn’t make me feel much better.”

She was quiet for a while.

“Megan, it’s kind of funny—well, not exactly funny—how my parents cut me off due to not having all the facts, and your mother wants to do the same, also not having all the facts. Oh, not that I think she would change her mind just because I’m physically male.”

“Oh no. Not Diane Novak! It looks like a lesbian relationship, and that’s all that matters to her.”

-o0o-

Later that day her father called to ask what had happened.

“Mother was very nasty to Terri, manipulating her until she had almost no choice but to leave. I found her in the snow, practically frozen. She’s already been hurt enough that I’m not going to let some Lesbophobe hurt her any more, even if that person happens to be my mother.”

“I’ll talk to her, Megan, and see what I can do.”

“I hope you can get through to her, because I told her I won’t be coming back if that’s the way she’s going to treat Terri.”

“I hope so too, honey. I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

After she hung up the phone she had a little talk with Terri.

“Terri, honey, you have to stand up for yourself. Don’t let my mother bully you. She knows how to easily manipulate someone as nice as you. I don’t think she’s going to give up.”

“I’ll try, but I’ve never been very good at it.”

-o0o-

Even after Richard talked to Diane, explaining that her attitude could well cost her her relationship with her daughter, she wasn’t quite ready to give up. She made a show of apologizing so she would again have access. She didn’t wish to actually harm the girl, just for her to leave. She felt now that her only option was to hire that detective to dig up some dirt on Terri.

Initially the detective was unable to find out anything, any history at all for Terri. It wasn’t until he dug deeper and found the change of name that things became clearer. Now, how was Diane going to approach this? Megan must already be aware that her girlfriend was just a tranny. Diane did admit to herself that she had no clue that this was the case, but still, she didn’t want to be a laughingstock with her social set when they found out her daughter was in love with such a person. She’d have to expose him, but in a way that wouldn’t be publicly noticed.

Diane acted at modifying her behavior around Megan and Terri, appearing to be accepting, but she started asking questions to find out when she might be able to confront Terri alone. Terri, who hadn’t started school yet, was home during the day, so Diane showed up one afternoon, unannounced. Terri met her at the door.

“Hello Terri. I brought over some fresh fruit for you two.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Novak. Won’t you come in?”

The two of them went into the kitchen.

“Can I offer you a drink?”

“No, Todd, I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me? My name is Terri.”

“I think we both know what you are, Todd. You’re a little tranny who is trying to go after my daughter’s money and prestige.”

Remembering Megan’s advice, she attempted to not cave in to this attitude.

“You know, Mrs. Novak… you are… a bully, and you have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you should leave.”

“I’ll go, but one way or another, you will leave my daughter and this town. I won’t have my family disgraced by someone like you.”

“Let me show you to the door.”

Once she was gone, Terri sat down and cried. She was shaking, even though she had stood up for herself. Why did there have to be such nasty people in the world?

-o0o-

She decided not to tell Megan about this visit, and spare her the misery of knowing what her mother was trying to do. Without Terri’s knowledge, however, Megan had installed Nanny cams in several rooms, anticipating a visit like this. She was her mother’s daughter when it came to deviousness. When she arrived home she could tell Terri was upset, although she claimed nothing was wrong. Megan brought the memory cards from the cams into her home office, and sure enough found the whole exchange between Terri and her mother. Her anger spiked.

She phoned her mother.

“Hi honey!”

“Hello, Mrs. Novak. I think you must know why I’m calling.”

“‘Mrs. Novak’… Oh, your little tranny friend tattled on me?”

“Actually she didn’t, but I have ways of finding out, and I suspected you’d pull some crap like this. You may consider yourself cut off from me. That stunt was the last straw. Goodbye.” And she hung up.

-o0o-

Megan was still steamed up from that exchange, and she waited until she was calmer before coming out of the room to join Terri in the kitchen. She hugged her from behind, nuzzled her ear, and said, “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do. And I love you.”

“I don’t think my mother will be bothering us anymore, at least I hope not.”

Terri turned to face her.

“What… what happened?”

“I know she came here and threatened you. I had warned her not to try any of that, so I have cut her off.”

“How did you… well, it doesn’t matter. Oh Megan… I feel bad for you. I know what it’s like to be cut off. I hope your dad doesn’t join sides with her.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows what kind of person she is. I’m not expecting him to take her side.”

“I sure hope not. It would be too sad if you were cut off from your parents too. Um, should you call him and tell him your side before she tells him?”

“She’s probably already talked to him. If I know her she’ll try and think of something she can use as leverage to get him on her side. I’m afraid your secret will be out. We’ll just have to see how my dad will react.”

“One thing I don’t understand,” said Terri. “I thought if you stood up to bullies they were supposed to back off, because they’re really cowards. That’s not working with your mom.”

“She hasn’t felt threatened yet. We have to show that we’re stronger.”

-o0o-

In the meantime Megan phoned her older sister, Melody, to inform her about the situation.

“Hey Mel.”

“Hi Megan. What’s up?”

“I hope you have a few minutes. I have a situation I want to tell you about.”

“Ooh. Sounds interesting! Yeah, I have the time. Heather’s napping.”

Megan told her that she had been living with Terri, a transwoman, that they had fallen in love, and that, due to her mother’s interference and threats, she had cut her off.

“Oh wow. That sounds exactly how mom would react. I don’t blame you at all, sis.”

“I’m glad, Melody. Terri’s parents disowned her a couple of years ago, and I’ve always felt awful about that,” she said, leaving the impression that the Rhodeses had cut Terri off simply because she was transgender.

“Poor girl. A situation like that is exactly when you’d need your family’s support. Oh! What about dad?”

“So far I haven’t heard from him, but I don’t think he’s going to side with her.”

“Well, if you need my help, let me know.”

“Thanks, Mel. You’re the best.”

Talk turned to Melody’s baby, Heather, and the call was over shortly after that.

-o0o-

The next day Megan received a call from her father.

“Megan, your mother told me some things about your phone call to her, which I took with a grain of salt. I had warned her she might lose you if she continued to harass Terri.”

“I warned her too, dad. I’m sorry if this is going to make things awkward between you and me.”

“I’m sorry too, honey. We’ll just have to work around her. Is what she said true? Is Terri really a—do you call them Transwomen?”

“She’s transgender, yes.”

“I really had no idea. But! Don’t worry! This doesn’t change my opinion. I can easily tell you two are devoted to each other, and I like her.”

“Thanks Dad. That really means a lot.”

-o0o-

From time to time Richard would meet Megan and Terri, usually for a meal. All three studiously avoided Diane as a topic.

For her part, Diane could get no sympathy from her husband or elder daughter, and she was beginning to feel left out whenever Richard joined them. He never said, “I’m going to dinner with Megan.” He’d just tell her he had a dinner engagement. But she knew. It was taking a long time for her to realize she had lost the battle, but one daughter had cut her off, and the other treated her frostily, which meant she had hardly any access to her granddaughter. That hurt, especially when her social set were gushing over their grandchildren. In a show of solidarity with Megan, Melody never came to their house, and never allowed her to visit. She would send a photo from time to time, and that was all.

Richard was still civil to her, but they didn’t have quite the warm relationship they used to enjoy. He wouldn’t speak about either daughter to her.

One day on the phone she asked Melody, “How long is this silliness going to continue?”

“Well, mom, I suppose as long as you continue with your bigoted attitude. There’s no room in my family for someone who treats other human beings so poorly. I certainly don’t want my daughter exposed to that kind of thinking.”

Diane wanted to huff and puff and argue, but she knew it was a lost cause.

“I just don’t understand how you can treat someone like that as a regular person!”

“Until you learn that we’re all human, and we’re all different, but we all deserve to be treated with respect, I guess you won’t be able to understand. Terri is a fine human being, generous, caring, extremely considerate, and that’s more than I can say for you, sorry to say. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend to Heather. Bye.”

And just like that she hung up.

Diane sat there with her mouth open. Her own daughter was talking down to her as if she was a teenager! Like there was something wrong with her!

When Richard came home she was still miffed. After their dinner she told him what Melody had said to her.

“To be perfectly honest, Diane, I see her point. You seem more interested in your social standing than in how you treat another human being. And she’s right about Terri; she is all those things, and I really like her.”

“It’s not a HER.”

“Stop right there, Diane. You really have no idea what you’re talking about, and I won’t have you running her down in front of me. If you are unable or unwilling to adjust your attitude, I’m afraid our marriage might not last much longer. I thought I had married an open-minded, live-and-let-live woman, but that’s not who I have been seeing, and it has been very disappointing. By your words and actions, you are tearing this family apart.”

This was the first time Richard had ever mentioned the possibility of divorce, or spoken to her like that, and it was a rude awakening. It was also a little unpleasant to be reminded that she wasn’t as liberal now as she had been.

-o0o-

During the next few days Diane found several books on gender issues appearing in their house. Due to the shock she had gotten from Richard, she begrudgingly picked one up and began to read. She read through several case histories where the person involved had a parent, or parents, who acted the way she was acting, and they either killed themself or were forever estranged. Either way both sides lost. It didn’t make her feel very good. As she kept on reading, she started to imagine a flow chart in her head. Such and such happened, and that would lead to this, which would lead to that. The way she was handling this situation the flow always led to unhappy endings. Things were already heading in that direction. While reading the third book, she unexpectedly found her Empathy gland coming to life, and her heart opening up a crack. There was an awful lot of suffering for these people, who didn’t seem like they really wanted to feel the way they did, because it meant such a hard road in life. She wanted to insert another arrow into the flow chart, which would lead to an outcome that would straighten things out and make everything better.

Over several days she had a very long think about all of this, and had to admit to herself she really was in the wrong, as well as very ignorant. The fact that she had made threats and treated someone else like that did not make her proud of herself. She did not want to be exiled from her daughters and granddaughter anymore. It looked like the only way forward to a satisfactory conclusion was for her to apologize and really mean it.

Once she had decided on this course, she spoke to Richard.

“Thank you for leaving those books for me. You were right—I really didn’t know what I was talking about. I realize I owe the girls, and Terri especially, an apology. It never occurred to me how hard it could be for someone like her. From what I read she’s very lucky she passes so well.”

“It’s refreshing to hear you talk this way, Diane. I didn’t really relish the way things were going. However, I warn you that if this is another of your tricks, I really don’t think our marriage will survive.”

“I know I deserved that, Richard, but I’m not sure how to demonstrate to you how sincere I am. I guess that probably goes for the girls too. They’re probably not going to believe me either.”

“I think we’d all like to believe you. What if I contact Megan and Terri and explain what you’ve said, and see if they might have something in mind. How far are you willing to go?”

“As far as it takes to get both my daughters—and my granddaughter—back.”

-o0o-

“Megan, your mother says she’s had a change of heart, wants to apologize, but understands that you may not believe she’s sincere.”

“Why would she suddenly change her mind, Dad?”

“I left some appropriate reading material for her, and apparently she’s absorbed it and is feeling bad about her behavior. I told her I’d ask you what you and Terri would like her to do to show she really means it.”

“Terri probably wouldn’t demand anything; she’s just too kindhearted. I’ll talk with her, though, and see what we can come up with.”

“Good. Maybe we can finally put this behind us.”

“Amen to that!”

-o0o-

“Something to demonstrate her sincerity? Really? How about, umm, she has to lick a whole splintery old picnic table with her tongue?”

“Terri!!”

Terri giggled like mad. “I was KIDDING! She’s your mother. You would know better what would show us that she means it.”

“I just don’t know. There may not be any test to really show someone’s sincerity, which means we’d have to just let her back into our lives and see if she tries again to sabotage us.”

“Megan, I have a feeling we’ll be able to tell how sincere she is. We’ll be sensitive as to her behavior, and don’t you think we’d be able to tell if she was being genuine or not?”

“I would like to think you’re right, honey, but I just don’t trust her.”

-o0o-

Another dinner invitation was extended, and this time Megan’s sister, her husband and daughter were invited. Everyone was on a sort of alert, waiting to see if Diane would act up. However, Diane was the most relaxed of them all. She offered what sounded like sincere apologies to everyone for how she had acted, and especially to Terri. She told them she had learned a lot by reading those books, and she said nothing at all which might be construed as a subtle jab. She really enjoyed being able to see her granddaughter again.

As the meal wore on everyone relaxed. That was the first of many meals the whole family shared together. Diane actually tried very hard to be a friend to Terri. Terri was leery of her advances for a couple of months, but could by then sense she was really trying to be friendly, like a normal human being.

Diane had relaxed and was happier inside now. She realized the attitudes she had held before really did not make for inner peace. She had come to like Terri, who turned out to be everything Melody had said she was. One day she asked about Terri’s family.

“I have a sister, Gayle, who I’m very close to.”

“Have your parents passed away?”

Terri squirmed. She didn’t really want to answer that, but she didn’t want to lie either. Diane sensed the inner struggle.

“They disowned me,” she finally said.

“Was it because you’re transgender?” she gently asked.

“Yes, it was.” She looked down, not really enjoying thinking about this part of her life, even though it had led her to where she was now.

Diane’s reading about gender issues had given her an insight into what Terri might have gone through. She put a hand on Terri’s. “I’m sorry, Terri. That must have been awful.”

For some reason Diane’s sympathy triggered tears. She had never cried over this particular issue before. Diane actually held her while she let it out.

“Thank you,” she said, when she had recovered, and was wiping off her tears.

“I’m sorry I added to your burden before, when I was so nasty.”

Terri gave her a grateful little smile.

-o0o-

When Megan and Terri got married, Diane was the proudest parent around. Gayle was Terri’s maid of honor, and Melody was Megan’s matron of honor. It was a small wedding, but beautiful.

“Now that we’re related, Terri, please call us mom and dad. We’ll try and fill in as your parents,” Diane said.

“Thank you… mom. That means a lot to me.”

The End.

Robin
It’s not that easy to walk on grass and gravel in stiletto heels. It took me a while to be able to navigate in the heels at all, and this terrain wasn’t helping. It was a divided two-lane rural highway, and there was no sidewalk. Walking in heels can really slow you down, too.

But hey, no big deal – only sixty or so miles to go!

Was it only a few hours ago that I was forced into this position?

-o0o-

There was no warning that my new girlfriend, Marian, had a cruel streak, but when it did show up this morning I couldn’t believe she would treat me like this.

Yesterday, Saturday, she took us for a nice ride, sixty, seventy miles from the city, just cruising along country roads and admiring the scenery. We took our time, stopping at nice vistas, did a bit of shopping, had dinner, and in general spent a pleasant day together. By the time we were finished with our meal, she had decided we’d get a motel room for the night. It was a decent place, close to the highway, with a cluster of shops nearby, across a plaza.

Marian was well-to-do compared with me, so it was her car (I didn’t have one) and she paid for the motel.

The big surprise came when I woke up this morning. When I opened my eyes it was to see Marian completely dressed in my clothes, and reading a magazine at the desk.

“Morning,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Um, what’s going on? Are you wearing my clothes?”

“Morning, Robin. Yes, I am. I decided I wanted to be the Man today. Since your clothes are always a little baggy on you, they fit me pretty well, don’t you think?”

Looking at her sitting there, I had to admit it. “Well, yes, they do. But what am I supposed to wear?”

She laughed. “You’ll wear my clothes, of course.”

I wasn’t very amused. “Whoa there. That doesn’t sound like a good idea. I don’t want to wear your clothes.”

“Well, that’s too bad, since they’re the only clothes available.”

This was perplexing. Why was she acting this way? I knew she had a strong personality, but in the short time we’d known each other, this side of her had not been at all obvious.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this. If you want to be ‘the man,’ whatever that means, why don’t we just go buy you some men’s clothes?”

“No reason to, when your clothes will work perfectly well. Besides, I want to be The Man in relation to you as my Woman.”

“But, but, I didn’t say I wanted to be ‘The Woman’ today!”

“That’s true, but that’s what I want, and you’ll go along with it, won’t you.”

That was not spoken as a question. And I could feel the ‘or else’ hidden there.

“You’re not leaving me much choice.”

“Nope,” she said, pleased with herself. “Anyhow, it’ll be fun to see what kind of woman you make.”

That didn’t sound like my idea of fun.

“Go take a shower and wash your hair and I’ll help you dress. And use the conditioner.”

I reluctantly got up and went into the bathroom. Strangely the only soap and shampoo in there this morning were for ladies. I went ahead and cleaned up, then came back out with my towel wrapped around my waist, since I didn’t seem to have any choice. It’s not as though I was going to physically fight her for my clothes.

“You need to go back in there and shave your legs,” she told me. “Don’t bother with anything else; I’ve seen your armpits and your smooth face.” She handed me a pink women’s razor and shaving cream, and I went back into the bathroom. As I shaved it started to penetrate that she must have been planning this. Why else would she have brought along a razor and the can?

I didn’t have a whole lot of leg hair, but I was careful not to cut myself. Checking my face there was nothing to shave there, as she had snidely pointed out. I dried off and went back into the room.

She had her clothes laid out on the bed, and supervised while I put them on. She had to help with the bra, and when she brought out these two triangular jelly-like globs of something to put in the cups I knew this had to be pre-planned. I just couldn’t figure out why.

She put the dress over my head and zipped it up. It was a knee-length peasant dress; at least it was on her. On me, it was a bit longer. It had a square neckline and puffy three-quarter sleeves. It fit me fairly well, and I felt ridiculous in it. She went to work on my face with her makeup, and after she dried my hair she combed it into what she called a pixie cut. Lastly, she painted my nails a deep red. This all took quite a while, and I sat there and wondered just what kind of person would force someone to do this. How had I misjudged her this badly? And what else about her didn’t I know?

She put some bangles on my left wrist and a cheap necklace on my neck.

“There! Pretty as a picture!” she said, turning me towards the mirror.

I didn’t agree with her assessment, though I do admit I looked kind of female. That didn’t make me one bit more interested in exposing myself to the public though.

“How long have you been planning this?” I asked. “And why?”

“Actually, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. When I woke up I decided it would be fun, so I went across the plaza to the Wallymart and bought a few things. Ever since I met you I thought you were too small and pretty to be a guy. Put the heels on.”

Too pretty to be a guy, eh? I don’t think so! As far as I was concerned I was just… a normal-looking guy. Looking down now, I was very surprised to see she fit into my shoes. And, by the way, she sure didn’t look like The Man, or even a man! Even in my clothes—a button-down shirt and khakis—she somehow managed to look like a stylish woman. And for “a man” she sure had done her makeup nicely! There was some kind of hidden agenda here. Anyhow, I got the four-inch heels on, stood up, almost fell down, and for the first time found myself looking straight into her eyes.

She handed me her purse. “Well, come on. Let’s go have breakfast.”

“I can’t go out looking like this!”

“Sure you can! You look wonderful. You’re very pretty.”

“I don’t feel wonderful; I feel ridiculous. And I feel like you’re trying to make a fool of me.” I sat back down on the bed.

Her tone changed. “Oh, is that so? Well, your choices are, either come on out with me, or you can walk home.”

I couldn’t believe this! It was blackmail. Did I even want to be with someone so mean-spirited, and so ‘my way or the highway’? I had no desire to go outside and pretend to be a woman, although it looked like either way I would end up outside. But I did not care for her attitude, not one bit.

I just sat there, looking at her with my best sorrowful, accusing expression.

“Fine. I’ll be over there in that IHOP*. You can join me when you get up the nerve. Oh, and keep your legs together, Missy!”

And with that final jab at my male ego, she walked out.

What a crazy situation! If there was any consolation at all, it was knowing now just what kind of person she was. Is the only reason she first spoke to me because she was planning this? Was it just a game of ‘Let’s humiliate the guy’? Or a bet with someone? I had been too timid to approach her, and she had come over to me at a café and kind of swept me off my feet. That was only about three weeks ago. Man! What a stupid sucker I am.

I stayed there thinking and stewing for a couple hours, playing with the bangles on my wrist until almost eleven o’clock, which was checkout time. I do have to admit I had heard that “too pretty to be a guy” when I was growing up, but I always thought they were just teasing me. By the time I hit my twenties, I was sure I had grown out of it. And yes, I was kind of puny, but what did that have to do with anything? The Three Stooges were short, but that didn’t make them “too pretty!”

By ten thirty I had looked out the window and seen that her car was no longer in the lot. She had gone ahead and abandoned me. I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt about that. Now at least I wouldn’t have to deal with this unattractive side of her personality, but I was stranded with no way to get home.

Checking my wallet, which she had put inside the purse, I saw I had eleven dollars. Not enough to buy men’s clothes, if there even was a store in the plaza that carried them. Not enough for a taxi or an Uber. There wasn’t one person I could think of who I could call to come and get me. And would I want whoever that was to see me like this? NO.

It was now quarter to eleven. Taking a deep breath I put on the lightweight, white cotton jacket and the floppy straw sunhat, picked up the purse and walked out the door.

-o0o-

So here I was now, stumbling along the highway, in a dress and high heels. Taking off the heels was such a temptation, but I really didn’t fancy walking on sharp-looking gravel. I was thankful that the weather was very pleasant today. The gentle breeze was nice, but I discovered it meant I had to keep a hand on the hat to stop it from flying off.

Before too long a car slowed down and the passenger window opened.

“Hey babe, can I give you a lift?”

Without looking at him I said, “No, thank you.”

“You sure? It’s a long way to, well, anywhere.”

“Thank you, but no.”

“Suit yourself.” And he took off.

This happened three more times as I struggled along. All three were men. Two of them were more, ah, insistent than the others. Both of them kept pacing me as I walked, ignoring them to my utmost, until they finally got the message. There was no good I could imagine happening from taking a ride with a guy. Although a guy myself, I had no idea how to deal with male advances from the woman’s side of the issue. Saying, “Beat it,” in my lowest voice probably wouldn’t be the wisest option.

As I stumbled along I started to imagine a situation where I was walking along here just like this, but I was, well, a lot stronger. The guy slows down and asks me if I want a ride. I accept and get in. Then he starts coming on to me, putting his hand on my leg, so I grab his wrist and start to crush the bones! Ha! That would show him! Or maybe some martial arts twisting of his thumb or something. Oh, but then he’d probably ask me—politely?—to get out of his car, so I’d be walking again. Oh well. So much for that daydream.

-o0o-

In maybe two hours I’d probably gone a scant three, maybe four miles, still with nothing in sight other than the highway, grass and trees when another car slowed down. Sighing to myself, I waited for the inevitable.

“Hey, Miss. Can I give you a lift?”

This time it was a woman. I stopped, bent over and looked into her car. Dressed very casually, she looked quite pleasant, and just a few years older than I.

“Thank you! I’d love a ride,” I said, in a soft voice I hoped would disguise who I was. I opened the door and got in the way a woman wearing a dress would get in, sitting down first and pivoting over. I had observed women over the years, after all. I took off the hat.

She gave me a close look and asked, “Where are you headed?”

“Back to the city.”

“Well, I can’t take you that far, but at least to the next business district.”

She looked at me again.

“Listen, how would you like to have lunch with me? You can tell me how a nicely dressed girl like you ended up walking alone on the highway,” she said with a smile.

When she mentioned lunch my stomach ordered me to say yes, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything today.

“That would be great, and I’ll try and tell you what happened,” I said, wondering just what in the world I would say.

We didn’t speak further. Maybe seven miles further on there was a business district, and she pulled off into the parking lot of a good-sized family restaurant. We went in and were quickly seated.

Putting out her hand, she said, “I’m Jean Bowden.”

I shook it and thought there was no reason not to use my unisex name. “Robin Gray.”

We ordered lunch (I got the cheapest thing on the menu—a tiny salad with a hard-boiled egg in it) and she looked at me expectantly.

“Well, Robin, how did a pretty girl like you get abandoned on the highway?”

Is this how women normally spoke to each other? Just telling perfect strangers they were good-looking? I knew I looked sort of like a woman, but pretty? Nuh-uh. Blushing, I quickly thought about my options here. And, what the heck, what did I have to lose at this point if I told her the truth?

“It’s like this, Jean. You may or may not have noticed that I’m male—”

“I did wonder,” she said.

“—ah, okay, but… my girlfriend… or maybe I should say ex-girlfriend now…and I went for a drive yesterday. She decided we’d stay at a motel overnight since it was getting late. When I woke up this morning she was wearing my clothes! She said she’d decided to ‘be the Man’ today! My only option was to wear her clothes, but I didn’t want to leave the room. So she pretty much deserted me there. I don’t have much money, so I just started walking.”

“She sounds like one crazy bitch,” she remarked. “So you get to ‘take a walk on the wild side’ through no wish of your own.”

I nodded. “I don’t know anyone I could call to come get me, and I wouldn’t want them to see me dressed up like this anyway.”

“Well I think you look very good,” she said.

“Um, thank you?”

“It is a compliment. You look better than some women I know. Have you ever dressed up before?”

I blushed again. Even as a man I didn’t know how to handle personal compliments, which were rare in any case.

“Um, no, never,” I answered her.

Our food was delivered, and we got down to the business of eating, each thinking his or her thoughts, I’m sure. I kept glancing surreptitiously at her. I felt she had a very nice face. Light brown hair in a kind of messy bob. She looked sturdy but feminine.

“Robin, I don’t know what your plans are, but I’d like to help you. Here’s what I can do: I can’t take you back to the city until the end of the week, but I have a good feeling about you. So I’m willing to let you stay at my place until then. Maybe not the best solution, but it’s what I can offer. After all, you are a maiden in distress!”

I ignored that last bit. “Well, that’s very generous of you. I’m not sure what I should do. I didn’t leave the motel with an actual plan, but I had to be out by eleven, so I was. I didn’t think I would be able to walk all the way home—well, especially in these heels!—but I had to go somewhere. Umm, why don’t I shut up and stop babbling.”

Jean giggled about the heels, and maybe about my last comment.

“Do you have a job, Robin?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t pay much. If I don’t come in until Friday, or, that would probably be Monday, I’ll probably be fired, but it’s not as if that would be a terrible loss. I’m sure I could find another low-paying job!”

“Can’t you call them and explain?”

“It’s not that kind of place. You don’t show up, you lose.”

“Okay, so you’ll be staying at my place?”

“Yeah, I guess I will, if you’re sure. Thank you so much!”

We were done with our meal. Reminding me to grab the purse Jean took me into the Ladies room and coached me on how to touch up my lipstick, which I found in the purse. She also saw I was still very nervous and self-conscious—especially in there!—and she gave me a nice little hug.

“You’re doing fine, Robin.”

“Thank you. I feel like a complete idiot.”

“Not at all. You seem to be a natural. It was only the way you moved out on the highway that told me you might not be female.”

-o0o-

We paid and left, and she took me to her home, a small, one-story, single-family house in a residential area not terribly far from the restaurant. She pointed out the kitchen and the bathroom.

“Listen, I’m sorry to leave you alone, but I have some work I need to take care of at the office. Make yourself at home for a few hours, and when I get back we’ll have dinner, okay?”

“Uh, sure. I can’t thank you enough for your kindness.”

She smiled and left. I stood there, having no idea at all what to do with myself. Standing there reminded me of one thing I could do: take off those heels!

It was hard to believe a perfect stranger would just let me stay in her home, alone. I wandered around the place, just to see it, and to see if there was anything to do. There was one good-sized bedroom and a small one she apparently used as an office. It was pretty basic, but it felt comfortable and homey and with a woman’s touch. In the kitchen, I saw she’d left her breakfast dishes, so I washed them. Then I decided I might as well tidy up a little, as a way of saying thank you. It wasn’t hard to find her vacuum, and I vacuumed the carpet.

If I thought that doing these mundane tasks would help me forget about the surreal life I was living today, I was wrong. As I moved the skirt swirled around my legs in a way I found myself enjoying. Every time I reached for something I saw the little three-quarter sleeves with their little ruffles at the end, not to mention the red nails, and thought ‘Is that my arm?’ It was all so odd. As I vacuumed I started to daydream that I was taking care of the house, as if I was Jean’s wife, looking forward to her coming home to me— Hey! Wait a minute!! What was wrong with me?! I shook my head to clear that daydream out of it.

Once I was done cleaning I went into the living room to sit down. There was a little pile of knitting to one side. I didn’t know anyone knit anymore. I found a news magazine to read, watched a little TV, thought once more about this peculiar situation, and, not knowing what else to do, I curled up on the couch and was quickly asleep.

-o0o-

Next thing I knew Jean was gently shaking me.

“Robin, oh Robin.”

I blinked, saw her and remembered where I was. It was dark outside.

“Oh, hi,” I said and stretched. “Did you get done what you needed to get done?”

“Yes, thanks for asking. Sorry it took me so long. Oh, and it was very sweet of you to clean up. I should hire you as my housekeeper.”

“It was the least I could do,” I said and smiled at her.

“Want to help me make dinner?”

“Um, sure.”

I stood up, and without the heels on was surprised to find that Jean was at least four inches taller. Changing height in one day wasn’t something I was used to.

-o0o-

We had a pleasant time preparing a simple meal together, and it felt nicely intimate eating it there with her. I decided I really liked her and thought we were getting along very well. Being with her was helping Marian recede towards the back of my mind.

“So Robin, tell me a little about yourself.”

“There’s really not that much to tell. I grew up in the city, and when I finished high school I started working. My dad told my sister and me that we should be prepared to be on our own when we turned eighteen. He had been on his own at that age, and he thought it was character-building, so everyone should do the same. But really, I don’t think he liked either of us. That was just his way of getting rid of us. Jill—that’s my sister—got married and moved far away to Washington State, while I went from one crappy job to the next. I think she got married only to get away from him.”

“What did your mother say?”

“She died when I was eleven. So Jill and I were close, or at least I thought so, but I just about never hear from her.”

“That’s sad. So how long have you been on your own?”

“Uh, let’s see… I’m twenty-two, so four years now.”

“Your dad sounds kind of tough.”

“Oh, you better believe it! Jill and I did all the housework and cooking, and we’d be in big trouble if it wasn’t done to his satisfaction. And then, when Jill left, I had to do all of it alone. I haven’t been back to that house since I turned eighteen. How in the world does he keep it clean now?”

“And how about your love life, Robin? One girl after another?”

“I know you’re joking, Jean. No, Marian was the first woman to show any interest in me, and now I feel like the only reason she spoke to me was so she could get me into a dress.”

“You could be right, but I’m glad she did. Otherwise, we would never have met, and I am already very glad I met you. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

Smiling at her, I blushed once more. I needed to change the subject.

“What about you, Jean? What’s your story?”

“Well, I grew up in the outer suburbs of the city, the oldest of a family of five girls, went to a good private school and a decent college. My friend, Carole, and I started a business about eight years ago, and it’s doing pretty well if I do say so.”

“Did you ever get married?”

“No, but I came close a few years ago, but as we got serious about each other I realized there was no real spark between us. When we discussed it he admitted he felt the same way, so we broke it off before we made a big mistake.”

“I guess I can understand that. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

She smiled. “No, I don’t mind. I’m ten years older than you.”

“Gee, I had no idea. I thought you were maybe twenty-seven tops.”

“That’s sweet of you, Robin. What do you say we watch a little TV before bedtime?”

“Okay, sure.”

-o0o-

When I came to sit down next to her, she commented on my appearance.

“You know, you really do look nice in that dress. Very cute.”

I grabbed the hem and fanned it out. “What? This old thing?” I said, and we both burst out laughing. Somehow I found I didn’t mind when she complimented me, the way I had when Marian did, and I gave her a nice smile. Though that line wasn’t so awfully hilarious, we both found ourselves snickering at it on and off. That created a nice shared sense of intimacy.

I don’t know why I was so tired, having already had a nap, but I found myself falling asleep, with my head gradually leaning on her shoulder.

-o0o-

“Come on, sleepy head. I think it’s time for bed.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I’ll just stay here on the sofa.”

She gave me an amused look.

“That’s silly. I have a king-sized bed. I’m sure we could both sleep there without getting in each other’s way,” she said, pulling me to my feet.

She used the bathroom first and then sent me in there with a cotton nightgown and instructions on how to clean the makeup off. I had to ask her to come in and unzip me, as well as unhook the bra. It was embarrassing, but not too embarrassing, since, for some reason, I felt very comfortable with her. She suggested I wash out the panties, and briefly explained the process. Although I was familiar with doing laundry, hand washing wasn’t something I had ever learned.

When I finished I came into the room in the nightgown and got into bed as far from her as I could, so as not to invade her space or make her uncomfortable. She smiled and we said goodnight to each other.

Was I really so non-threatening? Wouldn’t most women make the guy sleep on the sofa?

Did she even see me as a guy?

-o0o-

When the alarm went off in the morning I found myself closer to the middle of the bed, with Jean spooning me, her arm around my stomach. It felt wonderful, but I panicked.

“I’m so sorry, Jean. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m not,” she interrupted. “I slept really well,” she said in a very cheery way, striking me as a real morning person. That was interesting…she didn’t seem bothered at all about sleeping with me and touching me, a total stranger!

She hopped out of bed and took care of her morning routines, while I waited for the bathroom.

When I was finished she said, “Listen, unless you want to wear your dress again, all I think I can offer you is a skirt and blouse. My pants would all be too long for you.”

Since all of it was women’s clothing I supposed it didn’t really matter which, and I assumed Marian’s dress might need a wash by now. So I opted for the skirt and a long-sleeved blouse, not bothering with the bra. I thought about asking to borrow some money from Jean to buy a shirt and pants, but I felt I didn’t know her well enough to do that. And I couldn’t even imagine when I’d be able to pay her back.

“What do you think you’ll do today?” she asked.

“I really have no idea. I still can’t think of a way to get home.”

“What if you were to come to the office with me? We might be able to find you something to do there, and it would have to be more interesting than just hanging around here and watching TV.”

Being out in public was certainly not my first choice, but admittedly I was much more used to looking like this now than I was twenty-four hours ago. And really, no one but Jean had figured out what I was. Not those drivers, no one at the restaurant…

“You know, you’re right. Maybe I could do something useful there.”

She asked me to go put the bra on with the fillers, explaining the easiest way to do it. Then she helped me with my hair and makeup. When she was done she smiled.

“There, every inch the professional girl.”

No guy really understands how to respond to compliments like that, so I just smiled.

“Pity our feet aren’t the same size because I’ll bet you’d like to wear something other than those heels!”

“You got that right!”

-o0o-

We had a quick breakfast and then she drove us to her place of business, back a few miles past where the motel was. Her office was some kind of accounting place. Along the way she tried to give me some pointers about female behavior and walking and gestures, but I didn’t think I would remember most of it. We parked at the side of a low, freestanding brick building and went around the front to enter. The place was basically a big room. There were about ten employees, all working at computer stations in cubicles.

Jean took me to her partner, Carole, in a small office off the back of the main room. She struck me as a take-charge kind of woman, in a casual business suit.

“Morning, Carole, this is Robin Gray. I met her yesterday and she’s had some hard luck, so I’m letting her stay with me for a few days. I thought rather than leave her at home with nothing to do, she could hang out here, maybe help out, if that’s no problem.”

Carole looked me over carefully, making me feel self-conscious.

“Of course, Jean. Nice to meet you, Robin,” she said, shaking my hand. “I’m not sure what we have for you here, but would you be willing to do things like make coffee and be a kind of Girl Friday?”

“I’m happy to help out,” I said. “I’ve worked as a barista before,” I added.

Carole laughed. “That’s a little more involved than what I had in mind, but good to know! If we get an espresso machine in the next couple of days, you can be the coffee girl!”

I blushed yet again. Everything and everyone reminded me of my changed status. All those female pronouns really drove home the point…to me, anyway.

“Jean, why don’t you introduce her to our staff. Robin, after that why not wander around a bit and see what we do here. Maybe something will pop up that you can help with.”

“Thank you, Carole. I will.”

One by one Jean introduced me to the mostly female staff and told them I’d be willing to bring them coffee and help out. They all gave me smiles. The couple of men there eyed me in an appraising way I was not used to experiencing. It made me uncomfortable.

After Jean went to work, in her own little office, I wandered around the place. During the morning I got coffee for several of them, fixed a jam in the copier, and actually was able to help one of the women with a little problem in her spreadsheet program. A woman named Joyce showed me where the office supplies were stored, and a couple times I was asked to go there and get something from the stash. I tried to be as polite as possible, and they were all friendly in return, and I found that by the end of the day, I had done something for every woman in the place.

-o0o-

.
Jean
Let me just start by saying I had never been attracted to a woman before. But when I saw a nicely dressed but awkward young lady incongruously picking her way along the side of the highway, trying to hold on to her sun hat, I just knew I had to stop for her. There was something so innocent yet sexy about that picture. To my eye, she moved a little bit like a guy, but I could see the terrain was pretty rough for heels. However, when she got in and took off her hat and I got a good look at her face all I could see was a pretty young woman.

I had an impulse to invite her to lunch, and there she told me her story. I felt bad for her that her “friend” had treated her so poorly. Sounded like that woman had a real agenda. I couldn’t help but notice that even as Robin talked and ate she came across as female, and I could certainly see why that woman had been tempted to try this. Not that I agreed with forcing a guy to do something such as this… but it really made me wonder just how effeminate she—I mean he—was as a male.

When she told me she was a boy—well, a man, I suppose—I felt very intrigued. There was something so feminine about her that just sparked a low flame of arousal in me. How could a man come across like this? Especially one who claimed he had never done it before?

I can’t even talk about her as being a man, and yet, there was something about that little fact that made this whole situation sensually stimulating. It was fascinating.

When we were finished with our meal I took her into the ladies room to touch up her lipstick. The poor thing was so nervous I gave her a little hug and told her she was doing well. I wonder if she enjoyed it as much as I did. My impression was that she was very unused to compliments.

She seemed so helpless, and I could see that for her it really was a difficult situation. I couldn’t help liking her, so I decided to do what I could for her. I took her to my home and dropped her off, then went back to the office to finish up a few important bits of time-sensitive paperwork. (I’m co-owner of an accounting firm, and make a modest living.) This also seemed like a good test of my intuition. If she had a bad character she’d steal something and leave, but I didn’t think that was going to happen.

-o0o-

When I got home and walked in, much later than planned, it was dark inside, which seemed odd. When I turned on the kitchen light I could instantly tell that she had cleaned the place up. That was very kind of her, and, not to be sexist, but it didn’t seem like something the average man would have done. But where was she? Had she gone after all? When I went into the living room there she was, asleep on the couch. She looked so sweet, and so young, curled up there in her peasant dress.

I gently woke her, and she was polite enough to ask about my work. So few people nowadays seem to want to talk about anything but themselves, so that impressed me. And without the heels, when she stood up she only came up to my chin. Could this really be a man?

She helped me fix dinner, which was pleasant, and seemed to know her way around a kitchen. We ate and then chatted about our histories. It didn’t sound as though she had grown up very happily. The tragedy of her mother dying so early… And what kind of father kicks his kids out at eighteen, just ‘because?’

After that, we sat down together to watch TV. Soon she fell asleep against my shoulder. She was pushing buttons I didn’t even know I had. So darned cute!

When I woke her to tell her it was bedtime, she actually offered to sleep on the couch! I almost laughed, as I really couldn’t see someone like her trying to take advantage of me. Just looking at her I didn’t even believe she could be stronger than I am anyway, so I said we would share my big bed.

When I sent her into the bathroom with a nightie I told her how to remove her makeup. In two minutes she opened the door and asked me to help her with the dress and bra, which I was happy to do. I did notice she wasn’t hairy like a man and certainly did not have the broadest shoulders

When she came back out, in the nightie, I could still easily see the girl, even without the makeup and breasts. I admit I was attracted, and it was odd feeling that way about someone who seemed to be a woman. However, I couldn’t deny the way I felt.

It was amusing to see how she got into the bed at the very edge of her side. During the night, as I looked at her over there at the edge of the bed, I developed a real desire to have her close to me, and I managed to slide her over some and spoon her, all without waking her up. The satin sheets made that fairly easy, or else she was a heavy sleeper!

As I said earlier, I had never been attracted to a woman, and yet this small, cute boy was really nothing like a man. I enjoyed being the older and bigger partner for a change when I held her while we were in bed. It was quite a new sensation. I wanted to protect her. And she sure didn’t feel like a man! She smelled like flowers, which is not the usual scent of a man. I slept well!

-o0o-

In the morning I suggested Robin come to the office with me, sure Carole and I could find her something to do. She had no way to get back to the city, and, she said, very little money. Coming in would be better than just hanging out at my house all day. I found a nice blouse and skirt for her; not much else of mine would have fit her, and even these were on the large size. I usually wore pantsuits to the office.

After I did her makeup she really looked good. I knew she was nervous about meeting other people with me, but I assured her she looked very nice and she smiled, and it was a nice smile.

-o0o-

Once she met Carole, my business partner, I introduced her to all the other employees. Not one seemed to have any idea she wasn’t a woman, although I was beginning to think that maybe she really was a woman… inside. The idea of a man/woman mix was rather enchanting.

It wasn’t long before she proved herself useful at the office, and I started scheming how to create a position for her. She had as much as said that her job back home wouldn’t be waiting for her, so why not stay here and work for me? From what I observed, the women all took a real shine to her. Dennis and Craig mostly seemed to ignore her, although I saw Craig’s eyes following her at least once. I have no idea what she was like as a man, but something about her just made you want to be nice to her.

There was something else, too. I could have afforded to buy her men’s clothes, but what would that mean if she showed up at the office as a man the next day? I didn’t want to subject her to possible nasty comments or attitudes. No, better for her to keep her in her women’s things. Better for me, too!

-o0o-

During the week Robin fitted in quite well at the office. Everyone seemed to appreciate the little things she did, and I was pleased. Every so often I had meetings at different locations during the day, and on Tuesday while I was out I went and bought her a dress in her size, another skirt and two blouses. I wanted her to wear things that actually fit her. These were a bit more feminine than the clothes I had been loaning her, but by Wednesday I didn’t think she would have any objections. She would wear whatever I gave her each morning with no complaints. I also picked up a pair of sneakers to give her at least one alternative to the heels, in which she was now a reluctant expert.

On Tuesday and Thursday evening, when we had finished work early enough, I took her to the park near my home and we went for a walk for exercise. I found it very pleasant to share the walk with someone, especially Robin, whose company I was enjoying more and more. She was no intellectual, but she was funny and self-deprecating, and she was filling a hole in my life I had almost forgotten was there.

By Wednesday some of the girls liked her enough to ask her to come with them to lunch, and I’m sure they wanted to grill her. She looked at me, scared, but then said, “I really don’t have the money, sorry.”

“I’ll treat you, Robin,” I said and went with them.

-o0o-

At the restaurant, Rita, one of our accountants, started off the questioning.

“So Robin, tell us your story. Where did you come from?”

“Um, well, I was walking along the highway on Sunday and Jean picked me up. I don’t have the money to get back to the city, so I’m just staying here for a few days.”

“Walking along the highway?” asked Joyce. “Wait. Back up. Why in the world were you doing that?”

“My, um, boyfriend, abandoned me at a motel.”

“What a louse! He didn’t hit you, did he?”

“No, no, nothing like that. We just had a…a disagreement. Then he said he was going to breakfast, and he expected me to join him as if everything was fine and decided. And if I didn’t come with him I could walk home. I just thought, well, if he’s going to act like that, I don’t need to be with him!”

“Good for you, girl!”

I thought Robin was doing really well with this, although I could tell she wasn’t enjoying it.

“Where do you work in the city?” asked Martha.

“Oh, I was just a clerk at an aquarium store. You know, equipment, little fish, stuff like that.”

“Was? Aren’t they holding your job for you until you can get back?”

“Well, um, no, you’re only allowed one unexplained absence, so I’ll be looking for another job, probably, when I get back.”

“Oh, forget about that, Robin. You should stay here, with us!” said Joyce.

“That’s a great idea, Joyce! Jean, you and Carole can come up with something for her, can’t you?”

Robin turned to me with panic in her eyes.

“I’ll have to discuss it with Carole.”

“But, but…”

“No buts, Robin,” said Rita. “We all like you. You should stay here.”

“Absolutely,” said Martha.

I looked at Robin and her eyes were actually brimming with tears! She must be lonelier than I thought. I handed her a tissue, leaned over and whispered, “Just dab at the corners of your eyes.”

“Thank you all. I’m not used to anyone sticking up for me.”

-o0o-

She continued to prove helpful at work, and I discussed with Carole creating a job for her. We finally came up with a kind of Receptionist/Girl Friday position. It wouldn’t pay much, but if my plans worked out that wouldn’t matter.

“When do you want to offer her the job?” Carole asked.

“Let’s see what happens when I take her back to the city on Saturday. My feeling is that she has enjoyed being here. Everyone seems to like her, and I get the impression that she was just tolerated at her other job, which she says will no longer be hers by now.”

“Sounds fine to me, Jean. You can handle it.”

.
Robin
I was able to settle down and enjoy what I was doing at Jean’s office. Each morning she would give me a skirt and blouse to wear, although on Wednesday, for a change, she handed me a dress, and it actually fit me. When I asked, she said she had bought it for me and also gave me a pair of sneakers, for which I was very thankful! For a minute I wondered why she didn’t get me men’s clothes, but by now everyone at the office thought I was female, and coming in as a guy would have been, just… well, bad.

The people at the office were very kind to me, and I kept finding little things to do which kept me more or less busy. It was kind of cool to make up my own job. The two guys mostly ignored me, and I was content with that. I still had no idea how to interact with men as a woman. The one or two times we passed each other I felt very small and very vulnerable. I didn’t recall feeling like that as my normal, male self.

At Jean’s house we got along so well. Twice we went to the park to walk, for exercise, and I really enjoyed that. In my real life, my main exercise was just walking back and forth to work. Walking with someone—someone you liked—was a big improvement on that!

And it was kind of weird, but just about every morning I would wake up and find that Jean was holding me. Don’t get me wrong – I really loved the feeling, but couldn’t figure out how we got so close to each other while asleep.

-o0o-

When we left work at the end of the day on Friday, Carole gave me an envelope with two hundred dollars in it!

“What’s this for, Carole?”

“You’ve been here all week, Robin, helping out. I think you deserve some compensation.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you very much, but I was just helping out.”

She smiled and said, “I hope you come back to visit us, Robin. It’s been very nice to have you here.”

I smiled back. Everyone here was so nice to me. But I did have a sort of life back in the city, and it was hard to imagine wearing a dress just to visit. Soon enough, back in the real world, I would have to try and find money for rent. Ugh.

-o0o-

Saturday morning Jean and I were up and had breakfast, and pretty soon we were speeding along toward the city. I was back in Marian’s dress, now clean, and it felt pretty normal by now, having worn skirts all week. The same for the bra. Jean had taught me a little bit about makeup, and I was able to do a halfway decent job of it. During the week I discovered I enjoyed wearing skirts, especially in this nice weather. Still, I did look forward to wearing my own clothes again and going back to being a man. As much as Jean thought everyone saw me as a woman, I didn’t know anything about being female. I do have to admit, though, that I liked how people were treating me; they were much kinder than I was used to. And by now I kind of liked looking nice, and the women at the office would compliment me. I’d never really given a lot of thought to my appearance before.

Jean spoke, bringing my attention back to the present.

“So do you have a plan for what to do if you’ve lost your job?”

“Well, there’s this guy at a tool and die factory who might know of a job there.”

“Robin, I don’t want to discourage you, but you don’t look strong enough to work at a factory. You’re not trained in tool and die-making, are you?”

“No, I’m not. But maybe they’ll have some kind of office position?”

“You never can tell,” she said, looking thoughtful.

We reached the outskirts of the city, and not long after, my neighborhood. When we got to my street and came close to my place my jaw fell open. My small apartment building was a charred ruin. Either there had been a fire or a meteor had hit it. There was yellow “Keep Out” tape all around it. It was so shocking I could hardly think. All my stuff! I mean, not that I had a lot of stuff, or even anything very good, but every single thing I owned was gone!

“Oh my,” said Jean. “This kind of changes things. Did you have renter’s insurance?”

Being in a daze I didn’t hear her and she had to repeat the question.

“Uh, no. My job didn’t pay that well. I mean, I guess I could have afforded it, but…”

“Would you like to see if the building owner was insured, so maybe you could collect some sort of payment? Your security deposit, if nothing else.”

“Well, I do know where the office is that owns the building, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go in there asking about it as a woman.”

“They know Robin is a man?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jean,” I said, despondent. “I have no idea what to do now. I literally have nothing.” I leaned over and put my head in my hands.

She put a comforting hand on my back. “That’s not exactly true… you have me. Listen, Robin, don’t worry, I know what to do. We’re going back home, and you’ll stay with me until you decide what to do with yourself. I’ve loved having you as a guest, and I’m pretty sure Carole would be happy to hire you for that helper position. You already know everyone there likes you.”

“Hmm.”

She patted my knee. “You think about it on the way back. It’ll all work out.”

And I did.

My life seemed to be spiraling out of control. A mere week ago all was well. Now I’m kind of living as a woman, and living with a woman I really like but barely know. I have almost no money. Everything I own is gone. And… I just realized that means I don’t own one scrap of men’s clothing. No clothes except the dress I was wearing. No one at the office seemed to think I was a man masquerading as a woman, which was just beyond my comprehension. Why couldn’t they see how obvious it was I was a man?

Well, I should try and think of the positive aspects…ummm…Well, Jean was really nice to me. She was feeding me, giving me a place to stay, and lending me clothes. She seemed totally non-judgmental about me being a man dressed like a woman. And to be honest with myself, I wasn’t actually having a lot of trouble acting like a woman, whatever that actually meant. The things I was doing weren’t much different than they would have been if I were doing them as a man. Yeah, you had to keep your legs closed and not bend over and expose anything… Oh, and I had to try and sound more like a woman. But really, I didn’t think I was acting much different than my usual self.

What else? Oh, the ladies I worked with all treated me well. They were all older than I was, and they always seemed appreciative when I did something for them. I guess I felt like they treated me as a little sister? I felt that the two guys took me more for granted.

They were all really nice yesterday when we all thought I’d go back to my life in the city and that would be that. It wasn’t exactly a party, but someone did bring in a box of cupcakes. I’ve never worked with people before who would go to that kind of trouble for me.

Oh my god! I just realized something else: if I had been home, I might have died in the fire! I can’t say I knew my neighbors, but I hope none of them died because of this.

Anyway, the real question was: did I want to continue for the foreseeable future as a woman? And if I didn’t, what were my options… if any?

-o0o-

Jean left me alone to think while we were driving. I hardly noticed when she turned off into a shopping plaza, only snapping back to reality when the car stopped.

“Where are we?”

“We’re going to get you some sensible shoes.”

“But Jean, I shouldn’t spend money on stuff like that!”

She smiled. “I’ll pay for them. You’ve helped out so much at work that I owe you at least that!”

We went into a big box shoe store and she helped me pick out some nice shoes with a two-inch block heel I could more easily deal with. They were much more comfortable than the stilettos, and my calves and toes said, ‘Ahhhh. Thanks.’

She paid for them and we walked out, with me wearing them. I stopped and turned to her and hugged her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you very much!”

“My pleasure, honey.”
.

Jean
It was quite a shock when we found that Robin’s building had burned down, and she was devastated. The neighborhood was kind of seedy, and there were other buildings in bad shape. When I suggested trying to get her security deposit back she was afraid they’d have an issue with her showing up as a woman, which I thought was silly, although I didn’t say so.

She was depressed and had no idea what to do, so I brought her back home with me. After a somber lunch, we sat on the couch together and I put my arm around her. She leaned into me and put her head on my shoulder. I was very pleased that she felt comfortable enough to do that, though I’m sure it was mostly because in her distress she was seeking comfort.

“Jean, what am I gonna do? I’ve got no job, no place to live. No men’s clothes… I don’t see how I’ll ever be able to afford to replace anything.”

“You want to know what I really think, honey?”

“Yes.”

“I think you should stay right here with me and go to work with me. I’ve grown very fond of you over the last week, and we get along great together. Plus, you seem happy helping out at work.”

She looked up at me.

“But then I’d have to stay as a woman.”

“Is that so terrible? Is your life so different now? Are you unhappy like this?”

She looked down. “Well, no, it’s not all that different and I have been happy staying with you, but it seems like a big change.”

“If you say it’s not all that different, then maybe the main change is just the clothes. They don’t change who you are, Robin. From what I have observed over the last six days, you very naturally act like a woman. Almost nothing about you suggests anything different.”

“You’re serious? And here I’ve been so confused why no one has guessed about me. When I look in the mirror I still see a guy.”

I turned her face toward me. “And what I see when I look at you is a pretty young woman… whom I like a lot.”

She stared at me, and I leaned over and kissed her gently. She looked at me in a kind of goofy, dazed way, and I tightened my arm around her.

“I would love for you to stay here and be my girl.”

“But, but Jean, I’m not a girl.”

“But honey, you really are; deep inside I can tell there’s a girl in there. A very delightful girl who grows on me every day.”

There was a silence as she digested that.

“Do you really mean that?”

I kissed her again, deeply. “Yes, I really do. I know we haven’t even known each other a whole week, but I already adore you.”

She put her head back down and snuggled into me. God! This girl!

“I feel the same way about you, Jean. You have been so good to me, and I feel very comfortable with you. If you hadn’t picked me up that day…I don’t know what would have become of me.”

.
Marian
I admit that when I first met Robin I thought he was so feminine that I’d eventually have to find out what he looked like dressed up. So I did come on to him, and it was easy to start a relationship, which might have been his first. Yeah, he was a nice guy, but naïve, and totally clueless about how he comes across. He always let me make all the decisions. I feel I’m a very feminine person, but I have to just say I’m more of a man than he is. Anyhow, when the opportunity presented itself, on our long drive, to swap clothes, I jumped at the chance.

We had stopped at a motel for the night. Waking up early the next day I got into his clothes and walked over to the Wallymart across the plaza from the motel. I got some toiletries, a ladies razor, shaving cream, some chicken fillets to fill his bra, a few bangles and a necklace. This was going to be a blast, and I felt sure he would enjoy it too.

When he woke up he balked at putting my clothes on, but I didn’t leave him any choice, so he had to wear them or go naked. He sat still while I did his hair and makeup, and I was not disappointed with the end result. But then he refused to leave the room with me to go eat, which made me angry. I gave him an ultimatum, and when he wouldn’t get up and come with me, I left him in the room. I went and had breakfast, and when he still hadn’t come out I got in my car and started home.

I’d driven about forty-five minutes when my conscience forced me to turn back. I’m not heartless. I really thought the whole swap thing would be a lot of fun. Anyhow, I got back to the motel at 11:45, and found the room empty and someone cleaning it. I expected I’d find him hanging around outside there, or in the motel office, but there was no trace. Having looked in his wallet earlier I knew he didn’t have enough money to get home, so where could he be? I looked around the area for almost a half hour, and then threw my hands up and drove home.

Back in the city, on the way home, I stopped by his grungy little apartment, but there was no answer when I buzzed, and no messages on my phone. Every day I kept expecting to get an angry phone call, but there was nothing. It was as if he’d just vanished. I half wondered if he had hitched a ride with some maniac who found out he was a man and did something awful to him. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.

Four days after I left him, I read that his apartment building had burned down! There were two unidentified bodies in the rubble, and I really hoped he wasn’t one of them. But I never did hear from him again, so maybe he had died after all. I vowed to be more sensitive to how I treated people in the future.

The End.

*International House of Pancakes (and also known to a select few as I Hate Other People)

Author’s Note: For those who wondered why, when Marian was driving back, she didn’t see Robin walking on the highway, it’s because she wasn’t expecting him to be there, and also because she was not paying attention to that side of the road.

It was Tuesday evening, and all the youth were hanging out in the church basement. That was our spot. There was no organized activity this evening, so people were just talking, playing music and hanging out. Most of them were two to four years younger than I was. I was just out of high school, but had nothing else to do, so I hung out there too.

I slipped away from them to the hallway in back of the little stage. A couple days a week this area was used as part of the secondhand shop, and there was a lot of stuff crowding the hallway. I wanted to look over the rack of used dresses. Quietly, in the dim light, I looked through them, found one I really liked that I thought would fit, and pulled it off the hanger. Looking around, there really wasn’t a good place to try it on. This was kind of a dangerous thing to do, with the rest of the group only a few steps away, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity.

There was a small inset of sorts, where a door led to the backstage area, and it seemed a little more protected than the rest of the hall, so I stepped over and pulled off my shirt. Only a single bulb provided illumination back here, so it was pretty dimly lit, but I got the dress over my head and straightened it out. Looking down, I saw it covered my shorts, which pleased me.

At that moment Sarah Chandler, an older girl and unofficial youth counselor I really liked, called out. “Robbie? Are you back here?”

I froze, scared out of my mind that she would discover me. I almost stopped breathing.

“Robbie? I saw you come back here. Where are you?”

I stayed frozen, hoping she would give up. I was not known for practical jokes, and there was a stairway on either side I could have used, as far as she knew.

My heart was beating so loudly I thought she must be able to hear it, but I stood there as still as a store mannequin.

After a few more seconds I could hear her turn around and leave. I let a breath out. That was too close. I was an idiot to think I could have privacy back here. I carefully pulled the dress back off and slid it back onto the hanger. Once my shirt was back on I took a couple deep breaths to get my heart rate back down, and made my way out of there.

Sarah was standing right by the doorway.

“Robbie! Where were you?”

“I was in the mens room, why?”

“I thought you were back in the hallway. Thought I saw you go back there.”

“Nope. Just taking care of business.”

For some reason she narrowed her eyes at me.

“Why is your tee-shirt on backwards? You had to take your shirt off to pee?”

I looked down to see the Sucker! on my front, when it should say See My Back for the Answer.

“I had to look at something on my chest. I didn’t even notice I’d put it on backwards, but now that you mention it, it’s not that comfortable.”

“Look at what?”

“Hey! What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?! I have an itchy spot.”

“Oh.”

“So, Sarah. What did you want?” I said, hoping to get the attention off me.

“It’s so nice out, I thought I’d go for a little drive. Want to come?”

“Well sure! It’s very nice of you to offer. But let me go turn my shirt around first! I’ll meet you at your car.”

-o0o-

This was something new, her inviting me anywhere. As far as I could remember she had never shown any obvious interest in me. As I said, I really liked her, but had no idea how to tell her so, or to ask her on a date. I felt like when we spoke I only said stupid or obvious things.

As I got into her sporty little car she looked at me and smiled. I melted inside. She had a job as an occupational therapist, but her folks were pretty well off and I’m sure they bought her the car. As for me, I had a job at a chain store as a stock boy. We were not in the same social class.

She just drove around and then to the lake, parking there. The temperature was perfect, there was a gentle breeze, and we just sat there in the car and chatted about nothing and looked at the lake. She put me at ease enough to be able to hold a conversation. At one point she put her hand on my thigh, and that felt really nice. But then…

“Do you like me?”

That was sure out of left field, and I sputtered as my mind went blank.

“Robbie?”

“Um. Yes! Yes, of course I like you! I’ve always liked you!”

“Why haven’t you asked me on a date?”

Shrugging, I said, “I figured I never had a chance with you. You’re older than I am, and also, I have no money,” which was all the truth.

“You’ll never know until you try. My age isn’t important and neither is the money.”

“Well, it is to me. You don’t ask someone on a date and then not pay for them. Anyhow, I’m not sure I could take a rejection.”

“What if I guaranteed you that there wouldn’t be any rejection?”

This conversation was making me sweat. She smiled and laid off the questions.

Only later did I wonder why didn’t she ask me on a date?

-o0o-

A few days later, on Friday evening, Sarah invited me to her apartment, also a first. When I arrived, she let me in and she said she was doing something in the kitchen.

“…but I left some things for you on my bed.”

Mystified I went to her bedroom and walked in. There on the bed was the dress I had tried on at church! There was also a bra, panties and pantyhose. I couldn’t believe this. How did she know that was the dress I had tried on? Was I supposed to put it on? Now? I mean, I would have loved to. But to do it front of someone? A girl I liked? I didn’t think I had that kind of courage.

I walked back out, to the kitchen. Sarah looked disappointed.

“Sarah, did you really expect me to put all that on?”

“I already know you like that dress. You probably didn’t realize there was a mirror close to you in that hallway at church. I didn’t want to freak you out so I stepped back before I called out.”

Well now I was freaked out! “Oh my god!” My mind went blank and the blood rushed out of my head. I had been found out. I really had no idea what to do. I stood there frozen. Sarah stopped what she was doing and came over and embraced me.

“It’s okay, Robbie, really. I don’t think any lesser of you because you like girl’s clothes.”

That was like ripping a bandage off with no warning, and taking a bunch of sensitive hair with it. This was my Big Secret! And the girl I liked knew all about it. I felt I had to get out of there. I stepped away from her and started for the door. She grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Please don’t leave, Robbie. You don’t need to be worried about this. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

I still didn’t say anything, but almost collapsed onto her couch. She sat down next to me.

“I’m so embarrassed,” I finally choked out.

“No need to be. I think it’s pretty cool, actually. In fact, when I saw you put that dress on is when I decided to get to know you better.”

I looked at her in disbelief.

“I admit that not every boy would look good in a dress, but for the brief moment I saw you, I could tell that you did look good. And I already liked you. Why shouldn’t boys be able to wear any clothes they want?”

“Because other guys would probably kill them? Or make their life a living hell?”

“Yeah, I never understood why that kind of thing upset so many guys.”

“It’s not only guys, Sarah. I’ve heard stories where it upsets a woman too. Maybe not to the point of killing, but of throwing the guy out, making fun of him, or disowning him. It’s a really big deal to some people.”

I took a deep breath, and went on, in barely a whisper.

“My parents caught me in a dress during the last school year. They let me stay until my eighteenth birthday and then they kicked me out of the house because of my perverted behavior.”

She looked horrified.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea,” she said. “That’s just so wrong and so sad for a parent to treat their own flesh and blood that way.”

“I can understand. I mean, there’s something wrong with me.”

“No, Robbie, there isn’t. Tell me, do you want to be a girl?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I like the clothes. I like the way your bodies look and move.”

“Hmm. But for you, I’m guessing that when you see a pretty girl the first thing on your mind is probably not ‘Gee, I’d love to screw her,’ right?”

“Well, yeah. It’s more like ‘I wonder what it would feel like to wear that, or to have nice breasts.’”

I clapped my hands over my mouth, even though it was too late. Did I just say that out loud? Oh. My. God! I really needed to hear, ‘We now return control of your mouth to you.’

“Robbie, there are all different kinds of people, and not everyone fits into the socially-acceptable molds we were raised with. That doesn’t make them wrong, or deviant. It just makes them a unique individual.”

I looked at her. She was so pretty, and so understanding. My eyes started brimming with tears. She was too good for me.

“Sarah… you should really stay away from me. I’m a loser. I have nothing to give you in a relationship.”

“Robbie! You’re not listening to me! I like you just as you are! And you’re not a loser; I wouldn’t be interested in a loser! Oh man! I hate it that your parents have made you feel like this!”

I curled in on myself. Her kindness was killing me. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. Sarah put her arm around my shoulders and put her head against mine. We just sat there like that for what seemed like a long time.

“How can you like me?” I whispered.

She turned her head a little bit. “Let me ask you the same thing – how can you like me?”

“That’s easy. You have a fantastic personality, you’re beautiful and kind.”

“Well that’s the same way I feel about you.”

I turned to look at her in disbelief.

“You must have me confused with someone else.”

“You idiot! I have known you for two years. I’ve seen how you help out at the youth group, and how nice you are to everyone. Someone with a bad personality is not going to act like that.”

I said nothing.

“You need to get it through your thick head that you are worth something! People like you. Try not to define yourself by what other people did to you, or by your job.”

Tears were slowly dripping down my cheeks, and I relaxed just a little bit. Sarah felt it and moved her arm down to my waist. I turned my head to look at her and she leaned in and gave me a kiss on the lips. It lit a small fire in me and I relaxed a little further. Soon we had our arms around each other, just holding each other. I felt strength coming from her, and soon we were kissing and kissing. It was as if she saved my life just then.

-o0o-

After thirty minutes or so we were just relaxing on the couch with our arms around each other.

“Now, would you like to put on that dress?”

A part of me clenched up at those words, but I did want to be stronger and better.

“I would love to.”

We both got up. She went to back whatever she was doing in the kitchen and I went into the bedroom and put on everything she had laid out. She had included some inserts for the bra, which made the whole experience much more satisfying. I had never had access to a bra before. This time I pulled up the zipper on the dress. There was a pair of clogs that kind of fit. My foot was only a little too long.

Trembling, I opened the door and very slowly came out. She heard the door open and came over to see me. I couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Robbie, you look wonderful in that! You have good taste.”

I blushed and she came over and gave me a hug and a kiss.

“Would you like me to do something with your hair?”

Shyly I nodded. It was still very unnerving to be dressed like this in front of someone.

She pulled me back into her bedroom, sat me down and went to work with a brush and comb. She soon had me in a more feminine hairstyle. We looked in the mirror together.

“With your fine features, I’m not sure you need any makeup. Earrings would help, but you don’t have holes.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had mostly avoided looking at myself the few times I had been dressed. It would have been too disappointing to see my boy’s head and body in a dress. Now I was impressed with how much difference just the breasts and hairdo made.

Sarah leaned down behind me and put her arms around me. She kissed me on the cheek.

“How do you feel?”

“Um. Amazed, scared, happy.”

“Sounds about right. Come into the kitchen with me,” she said, taking me by the hand.

-o0o-

She had been preparing some very nice-smelling food. Of course most real food smelled nice compared with the microwaved meals I was used to. She had me sit at the kitchen table, and she served us both and then sat down. It was very, very weird to be sitting there in a dress.

As we ate I started to forget what I had on—well, except for when my arm bumped against my fake breast—and enjoy her company and the food.

“Do you have a girl’s name? I mean, Robbie works either way, but do you?”

“No, I never really thought about it, but I think I would find something a lot different than Robbie.”

“hmm. How about Emma? Mia? Abby? Grace? Any of those appeal?”

“I’d say… either Emma or Mia. You choose.”

“Oh, thank you for the honor, Miss Mia!”

We laughed.

“Well, Mia, where have you been living?”

“I rent a room in this lady’s attic. She lets me have a hotplate and microwave.”

“What would you think about moving in here with me?”

I was astounded. “Are you serious?”

“Very serious.”

“I pay her a hundred and fifty dollars a month. Would that be enough?”

She smiled. “Robbie, my parents pay for this apartment. You can live here rent-free, and start to save up some money.”

I still didn’t know exactly what sort of relationship we were in, or how I could pay back her kindness.

“I’d love to live with you, Sarah, but you might feel kind of cramped with someone else here. And what if your parents found out?”

“I think we could probably work around any cramped feelings, adjust our lifestyles, adapt. As for my parents, they’re pretty liberal, and I’m over twenty-one.”

Living alone in that attic was pretty lonely, and of all people I could choose to live with, Sarah would be at the top of the list.

-o0o-

“Would you like to stay here tonight? Or does that lady keep tabs on you?”

“I have my own entrance, so she wouldn’t know if I was there or not. I would really love to stay with you tonight, yes.”

She smiled.

“Good!”

She took a shower and told me to take one, and said she’d leave me something to wear in the bathroom. Fortunately we were about the same size. I kind of regretfully took off the dress and lingerie and stepped in to the shower. There was a shower cap there, so I used it, and once I stepped out and dried myself off I found a short nightgown on the toilet seat, and put it on.

Stepping back into the bedroom, she was waiting for me in the bed, in her own nightgown. I felt extremely shy, and just stood there.

“Come on, Mia. Come lie down.”

I slowly walked to the bed and sat down, looking at her the whole time. I had never had a girlfriend before, and had certainly never slept with a girl before.

“You’ve had a tough day, Mia. We’re just going to snuggle up and sleep together, so try and relax.”

I lay down on my back and tried to relax my muscles. Sarah put an arm over me and one behind my neck and scooted close. That made me feel so good, and combined with the feel of the nylon was almost overpoweringly sensuous. It didn’t give me an erection—I actually seldom had them—it just made me feel loved and comfortable.

-o0o-

I woke up on my side, feeling good but not remembering where I was. I felt an arm around my waist and then recalled I was at Sarah’s. I smiled to myself and put my arm on top of hers for comfort. I lay there until I realized I really needed to get up. Sarah started to make waking noises. I turned over to look at her. She smiled.

“Good morning, Mia. What a nice way to wake up!”

I leaned over and kissed her, and then got up to use the bathroom.

“You look very nice in that nightie, Mia!” she called after me.

“Not as nice as you, Sarah!”

When I was done in the bathroom she ran past me to use it herself. I didn’t know what to wear, so I just sat on the bed and waited for her. When she returned she asked, “What would you like to wear today?”

“I have no idea. Are we spending the day together?”

“Well, it’s Saturday and I have no plans. I’d love to spend time with you.”

“If you haven’t changed your mind about me moving in here, then I should probably go let my landlady know I’ll be moving out.”

“No, I haven’t changed my mind. Hmm. I’m thinking that if there is any possibility that this lady is reporting to you parents, you should go in alone.”

“Sarah, my parents—or maybe ex-parents is more accurate—don’t know where I am and don’t care. I had never met this lady before I got the room. She’s very nice. In fact it was Sally, the Youth Minister, who recommended her. My parents don’t even go to this church.”

She hugged me.

“It’s just so hard to understand how people who consider themselves Christians can be so un-Christian, and towards their own flesh and blood.”

I said nothing, just enjoying the hug.

-o0o-

She drove me back to my place, and stayed in the car while I talked to the landlady to tell her I’d be moving out at the end of the next week. I thanked her for her kindness in renting me the room, and she wished me well, and told me I was a very good tenant.

During the next week Sarah helped me move my things to her apartment. I didn’t have very much; my parents only allowed me to take things I had paid for, like clothes, a few books, an old iPod.

She had only the one bed, so we always slept together, which was really enjoyable. I guess I didn’t have a very active libido, because I was content to just cuddle with her as we fell asleep.

She encouraged me to wear my dress and some of her clothes if I felt like it, but I did so only there, at the apartment. No way was I going out in public! I also worked on sounding more like a girl, because when I looked in the mirror and spoke, it just seemed wrong for my own voice to come out of that person. It wasn’t that masculine, but it was boy-like.

-o0o-

I still had my job, stocking shelves, but I was starting to think about finding a better job, maybe one with some possibility of advancement. Living with Sarah I started feeling better about myself, as if I was capable of doing more.

We both still helped out with the youth group, so we weren’t hanging out at the apartment all the time.

-o0o-

A few weeks later on a Sunday afternoon, I was all dressed up, and even made up a bit. I admit I was kind of overdressed for everyday activities, but I liked it, and Sarah enjoyed seeing me enjoying myself.

It came as quite a surprise to hear a knock on the door. Sarah got up to answer it, and I got up and headed toward the bedroom, to hide. I stood at the door, listening.

“Oh! Hi Mom, Dad! Come on in,” I heard. Yikes!

“This is unexpected. What brings you over here?”

“We ran an errand near here and decided to come see our favorite daughter.”

I heard them come in and take a seat.

“I hope you mean your only daughter!” she said, humorously.

The next thing I heard filled me with dread.

“Mia! Come out here and meet my parents.”

Forcing my feet to move was a real chore, but I did it.

“There you are! Mia, I’d like you to meet my parents, John and Marie Chandler. This is Mia Parker, my roommate.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” I said in my Mia voice, and sat down next to Sarah, opposite them.

“That’s a very pretty dress you have on, Mia,” said her mother. “Are you coming from a party?”

“No Mom, she had an event to go to.”

“We didn’t know you had a roommate, dear.”

“Well, it only happened a few weeks ago. I met Mia at church, and she seemed like she could use some help, so I invited her to stay here.”

I just sat there, scared, and looked down at my hands in my lap.

“Do you have a job, Mia?” asked her dad.

“She works at a drugstore,” Sarah answered for me. “But she’s looking for something better.”

“Oh? Any college, Mia?” asked her dad.

“No sir,” I said, still looking down.

I’m sure her mother could tell I was nervous, and she decided to put an end to the questions.

“John and I will keep our eyes open for a starter position for you.”

“That’s very kind of you, ma’am. Sarah, do you mind if I go and lie down?”

“Go ahead, Mia.”

“Nice to have met you,” said her parents.

I briefly looked at them and smiled, and vanished into the bedroom.

“She’s extremely shy, isn’t she,” I heard her mother say.

“She’s had some pretty awful things happen to her,” replied Sarah.

They chatted for another half hour and then took their leave.

Sarah came back to the bedroom, where I was lying down, and lay down next to me.

“Are you okay, Mia?”

“Yes, but I was scared out of my mind meeting anyone while I’m dressed up.”

“You did great. I think they like you.”

“Sarah, why did you ask me to come out and meet them?”

“They’re good people, Mia, and they would not have made any trouble for you. You’re important to me and I would have felt bad if you had to hide in the bedroom the whole time. However, you should realize that if they do find a job for you, you know it’s going to be a job for Mia, not Robbie.”

My eyes widened at that. How could that not have occurred to me?!

-o0o-

A week later we, meaning Sarah and Mia, had a dinner invitation to the Chandlers. I really didn’t want to go, but Sarah convinced me it would be fine, and that her parents wouldn’t try and out me or make trouble. We even found me another dress at the secondhand store at the church.

We arrived and I was able to speak a little more than at our first meeting. After dinner Sarah’s dad asked her to come into his study to talk, and so I helped her mother clear up the dishes. I offered to do the washing, and she gave me an apron to wear, to protect my dress. I was still pretty frightened, especially without Sarah by my side, and Mrs. Chandler tried to put me more at ease.

“It’s very nice of you to help out, Mia,” she said.

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am. I really enjoyed the dinner.”

“Thank you. Mia, you seem like a very nice girl, and I don’t want to upset you, but I would like to ask if you are transgendered.”

I almost dropped the plate I was washing. I was able to drop it back in the soapy water, and then I felt so faint that I grabbed the edge of the sink and slid down to the floor.

This was just what I had feared. Well, actually not this; what I really feared was an angry accusation.

Mrs. Chandler knelt down next to me and grabbed my soapy hand.

“I’m so sorry, dear. Are you feeling okay? I really didn’t mean to scare you. Can I help you back up?”

I took a few breaths and felt a little easing of my anxiety, and nodded yes. We got up and she grabbed a towel for us to dry our hands. She led me to the kitchen table and we sat down.

“How… how did you know?” I asked.

“You have a little bit of an Adams Apple, and some rough edges, but I would say you pass very well,” she said, smiling.

My hand went to my throat. Sure enough, there was some poking out there.

“I have never been outside dressed before, Mrs. Chandler, but Sarah felt it was important for us to be here.”

“Call me Marie, honey. I appreciate that you made the effort. But back to my question—are you transgendered?”

“I… I really don’t know, Mrs…. Marie. Sarah asked me once if I wanted to actually be a girl, and I said no. But I have to admit I have been very comfortable dressing up.”

“Mia, a good friend of mine is a gender therapist. I am going to suggest you go see her and find out more about what you really want.”

“Oh, I could never afford that.”

“It would be my treat. As I said, she’s a good friend, and I really think she could help you.”

I looked at her doubtfully. I thought I was just a guy who liked to dress up in girls’ clothes once in a while.

“There are many degrees of transgenderism, dear,” she said, reading my mind. “It might be very helpful to you to know where you fall in the spectrum. Considering my husband and I have our eye out for a job for a young lady, you might want to know if you would actually like to hold a job as a female.”

I nodded yes to that; it had been on my mind as well.

“How long have you been dressing as a girl, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Well, I, um, first tried a dress on when I was about fourteen, but I was only able to do it just a few times. When my parents caught me one day when I was seventeen, they kicked me out of the house and their lives once I turned eighteen.”

She looked at me very sympathetically and took my hand.

“Since then Sarah has been the only good thing in my life.” I thought about that. “Well, that’s not entirely true. A nice lady let me rent out a room in her attic until I moved in with Sarah.”

She smiled. “Well, we think very highly of Sarah too.

“Will you go and see my friend, Mia?”

“Yes, thank you.”

We were just getting up from the table when Sarah came in.

“Everything okay here?” she asked, looking at me.

“Yes,” I smiled. “Everything’s fine.”

I finished up the dishes and both Sarah and her mother dried.

When we were leaving her mother gave us both a very nice hug.

-o0o-

On the drive home Sarah asked me what had happened in the kitchen; she could feel something was different. I told her that her mother knew about me and offered me a session with a gender therapist to see where I fell on the transgender spectrum.

She looked thoughtful.

“Yes, that would probably be useful to know.”

“And your mom mentioned about them looking for a job for a young woman, and did I think I could work as a woman. So it seems like a good idea.”

-o0o-

A year later I had been working at a business office as a file clerk for four months, and I was working as Mia, not Robbie. I was also taking one class a semester at the local community college. The gender therapist had diagnosed me as transgender, but saying I would probably be at ease working either as a male or female. I was still Robbie on occasion—like at church—but I mostly looked a lot more like Mia, having had my hair styled and lightened, and had learned a lot about makeup. I was a lot more confident and happy.

Sarah and I worked close enough to each other to be able to meet for lunch a few times a week. We were getting along incredibly well, and I really loved her. My life would have been so much different without her.

Today we met at a restaurant for lunch when I noticed two women come in. One of them… was my mother, whom I had not seen for well over a year. They were seated a few tables away. I leaned over to Sarah and whispered, “That’s my mother over there,” pointing with my eyes. Her presence there made me very nervous. I was afraid she’d see me and jump up and scream at the whole restaurant that I was a tranny.

Sarah put her hand on mine and said, “Mia, you looking nothing like you looked a year ago. I don’t think you need to be scared of her.”

“It’s just that seeing her brings up so many negative feelings.”

As I finished the sentence I saw her eyes sweep past our table. They never stopped on me. Maybe Sarah was right. This gave me a bit more confidence.

When we were finished with our meal and had paid I had a sort of wicked thought, and I decided to act on it before I could talk myself out of it. As we started toward the exit I stopped ever-so briefly at her table and looked her in the eye.

“I just want to thank you for helping me on my journey to find out who I really am.”

With her mouth gaping open, I then swept out of the place.

“I can’t believe you did that, Mia!” said Sarah, laughing.

“But it’s true. Without them kicking me out, I wouldn’t have had the courage or the impetus to start on this path. I mean, it was really you who saved my life, but I think it was part of a domino effect.

“Do you think she had a clue who I was?”

“That’s something we may never know, honey.”

-o0o-

Back at the restaurant Thelma Parker was still trying to understand why a strange young woman would say that to her. Her friend was as astonished as she was.

“Who was that, Thelma?”

“I have no idea, Cathy! I don’t know what on earth she was talking about!”

But really, deep inside she suspected she did know who it was. That pretty and confident young lady was her son. She had gone along with her husband’s wishes about kicking him out, although it felt wrong to her, very un-Christian. It was only her intervention that stopped Robert from becoming violent. Robert never spoke another word to Robbie in the two months until his eighteenth birthday. She had spent many an hour wondering where he was and how he was getting along. She really wanted to run after him– her, but trying to put herself in his, um, her position, would such a confrontation really be welcome? No doubt Robbie hated her, although she didn’t think he—she looked at her angrily. She would have loved to ask her to come home, but Robert would never go for that. She was just glad to see that she looked as if she was doing well. Maybe some day…

The End.

Continued in Sarah and Mia Part II

The beginning of the school year is never something that excites me. I was so glad that I had only three years left. Since I had been bullied often, my mom had signed me up for a self-defense class, and it had since proven useful, especially since bullies are essentially cowards. To protect myself inwardly, I constructed a hard shell around me: I didn’t need any of them; I was fine by myself. And I had slowly learned that it was best to tune them out, at worst to let the comments and taunts roll off me like water off a duck. It sure didn’t do me any good to get angry.

I wasn’t precisely an outcast at school, but I sure wasn’t well-liked. Neither the guys nor the girls were very nice to me, and I was never sure why. I was the shortest boy in our class, but I don’t know why that should have made any difference; it’s not as if I was shorter on purpose. And it never used to happen before everyone else hit puberty and shot up, or blossomed.

So today I was in the cafeteria, stuck at a table with a few other kids, but minding my own business as usual, and picking at what the school termed Food. We didn’t have so many tables in our cafeteria that I could have one to myself, or that’s where I would have been. Unsurprisingly the other kids started to talk about me, trying to get a rise out of me. When it really started to get nasty I sighed to myself, and got up, disposed of my tray and uneaten food, and went to sit outside. Taunts followed me as I exited the cafeteria doors. Interesting how no lunchroom monitors were ever able to pick up on this behavior.

Going outside I sat under a tree on the school grounds and opened a book. Before too long a shadow fell over me, and a voice asked, “Why do you let them walk all over you?”

Looking up I recognized the new girl, Sharon? She was tall and beautiful.

“Fighting them accomplishes nothing,” I said. “They’re actually hoping I do want to fight.”

“Why?”

“That would give them the opportunity to try and knock the stuffing out of me. But since I started self-defense class, that hasn’t worked out very well for them,” I snickered. “Also, they really hope a teacher will somehow notice and assume that it was I who started the fight, thus getting me into trouble. And finally, responding only feeds the fire.”

“Well that really sucks,” she said. “I’m Sharon, by the way. Sharon Kensington.”

“Nice to meet you, Sharon. I’m Peter Brock.” A funny look danced across her face. “Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me? It could be bad for your reputation.”

“Let me worry about my reputation,” she said, and gracefully sat down next to me. “So what have you done, to be shunned like this?” she asked.

“I have the temerity to be short, is the only thing I can figure out. I’ve never done anything at all to any of those poor misguided souls in there. Apparently in this school district being short is a serious crime.”

She giggled, which was a nice sound.

“So what grade are you in?” she asked.

“Tenth, you?”

“Eleventh. We just moved here from Pennsylvania.”

“Man! That sucks to have to move when you’re almost done with school. But anyway, let me be the last to welcome you to Mayfield.”

“The last?”

“I’m sure most of the other kids have said hello already?”

“Actually very few have spoken to me. I had imagined it would be friendlier here, since it’s a smaller town than where I used to live. But thank you! And moving isn’t really such a big deal. We’ve moved three times in the last ten years. My dad’s work…”

“Oh believe me, Sharon, small doesn’t always equal friendly! This town is a bit on the conservative side, and you need to fit in to be accorded friendliness and acceptance. Right now you’re an unknown factor.”

The bell rang and it was time to go back inside, so we got up and I discovered she was at least five inches taller than me. That probably eliminated me as possible boyfriend material, not that I had any hopes anyway. We said goodbye to each other, and finished off the school day.

-o0o-

Walking on my way home I was thinking about her, and how pleasant she seemed, but I was also a little apprehensive that once she made friends with some of the others, she’d back off from her initial friendliness. I had to be prepared, mentally, for the rejection.

“Peter!!” I heard from somewhere behind me.

Turning around I saw Sharon hurrying to catch up to me. I stopped to wait.

“Thanks for stopping. I guess we live in the same direction,” she said. “I’m on Poplar street. I hope you don’t mind if I walk with you.”

“I’m on Sycamore,” I said. “Just three streets further on down Main. And no, I’d be glad of your company.”

Talking as we walked, we discovered we both really loved Art, but whereas I loved sketching, she was more into sculpture. We liked some of the same music and found a few other things we had in common. I smiled up at her, admiring her beauty and height. I still kept a small barrier up, though, in case she changed her mind about being friendly.

When we reached Poplar street she hesitated, and then said, “Would you like to come to my house? Like, just for a coke or something?”

“Um, sure. Sounds good,” I said. This was unexpected; I was never invited anywhere.

We turned onto her street and the house was the sixth from the corner, a nice, neat-looking blue Colonial. She unlocked the door and we entered.

“You can just leave your book bag there on the table. Come on in to the kitchen.”

She was already in the refrigerator, and pulling out a two-liter bottle of coke. She reached into the cupboard and got two glasses and poured. As she handed me my glass we had a clumsy moment, resulting in the drink splashing all over my shirt and pants.

“Peter, I’m so sorry! It was all my fault.”

“Sharon, it doesn’t matter whose fault it was. I’m not blaming you. Listen, I’m just going to go home.”

“Oh, no, no! You can’t walk home like that! You’ll be an incredibly sticky mess by the time you get there. Come with me and let’s see if there’s anything here you can wear.”

So saying, she grabbed my hand and led me upstairs, and into her room.

“I’m sure I have a t-shirt and shorts you could wear, and I’ll put your clothes in the wash,” she said, rooting around in her dresser drawers.

As she searched, I was taking in her bedroom, which was fresh and pleasant, with the requisite stuffed animals and cute comforter on the high bed. There were a couple actual paintings hung on the wall, rustic scenes, which I thought might be unusual for a girl. Not having any sisters or girl friends, I thought they all had boy-band posters on their walls. There were also a few very small ceramic sculptures of animals I guessed she had made.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’m sure you’d like to get out of those clothes and wash the coke off yourself. The bathroom is right through that door; I’ll bring you a washcloth and towel.”

I went inside and stripped. The coke had soaked through to my skin and it was already sticky. Just then there was a knock and I cracked the door open to see her hand holding the linens.

“Thanks,” I said, and got busy washing up. When I was done I wrapped the towel around my waist and went back into her room.

“Peter, this is about all I can find,” she said, holding up a long, light-pink t-shirt, with flowers all over the front. She also had a pair of short-shorts. “Or I can get you a blouse, if you prefer.”

I didn’t really care which, and took the shirt and put it over my head. It came down to mid thigh, which made her giggle. I looked at her balefully, but then grinned.

“Um, was your underwear sticky too?” she asked.

“I’m afraid it was, yes.”

“I brought out a pair of panties, just in case,” she said. “I hope they’ll stay up.”

Sighing, I grabbed the towel through the shirt and pulled it loose, then pulled the panties on, not the easiest maneuver while wearing a long shirt and trying to remain modest. They were pretty loose, but not falling down. Then I tried the shorts, which were definitely too big. They didn’t have belt loops in them, as they were designed for a shapely girl whose hips would do the job. I didn’t really want to wander around in just a long t-shirt, but I didn’t see what choice I had.

“Let me go put your clothes in the washer. I’ll be right back.”

I pulled myself on to her bed and put my head against the wall. This was turning into a screwed-up day.

Sharon eventually reappeared, and she had some sort of pants with her. She looked embarrassed and said they were her little sister’s, and would at least stay up. She handed them to me and I put them on. They turned out to be culottes, and stuck out from under the shirt another several inches, looking, of course, just like a skirt.

“They actually look pretty good on you,” she said. “I know you probably don’t want to wear them, but it’s only until your clothes are washed and dried.”

I didn’t know what to do. I felt forced into this situation, although at least I didn’t think it was preplanned in order to humiliate me. I should just act like it was no big deal and wait until my clothes were dry.

“So what do you want to do in the meantime?” I asked. “I have a little bit of homework I could get started on.”

“Me too. Let’s get our books and sit at the dining room table.”

We set ourselves up there and started to work. Forty-five minutes later her little sister showed up. She looked about thirteen to me.

“Hi Sis,” she sang out. “Oh, who’s your friend, and why is she wearing my culottes?”

I could see Sharon’s probable dilemma. Does she pretend I’m a girl or tell the truth? The truth might mean her sister laughs at me and makes me a target. The lie means that sooner or later she will discover I’m a boy, and then things could get bad. There were no good choices. Instead I heard,

“Cindy, this is Peter, a new friend of mine. I spilled some coke on him and we had to wash his clothes. These are all I could come up with, and your culottes were all I could find around his size.”

“Oh, sorry Peter. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine, Cindy. Honest mistake. I hope you don’t mind that I’m wearing this.” I said.

“No, not at all. They actually look pretty good on you. Sis, is there anything for a snack?”

And just like that it was a non-issue for Cindy. I was surprised and relieved. Both girls seemed like very nice people. Still, I hoped the wash would be done before the parents arrived home!

Her comment really made me wonder, though. It was the same thing Sharon had said about the culottes. Why would a girl think such a garment would look good on a boy? I didn’t understand.

After Cindy had gone upstairs I asked Sharon about it.

“Why do you and Cindy both think this looks good on me?”

“To tell you the truth, both that and the top look pretty natural on you. You saw that Cindy thought you were a girl, and I’m afraid that’s what I thought too the first time I saw you.”

Well, I was just flabbergasted. I never saw a girl when I looked in the mirror. Yes, my hair was maybe a little bit long, but… I’d have to look again. And what could I do about it? A buzz cut?

“I, I can hardly believe it. I’ve been blocking out the nasty comments for so long maybe I had no idea what they were trying to tease me about. I thought it was just that I was short. But if they all think I’m a sissy or gay or something… It just never occurred to me.”

Sharon could see how shocked I was, and she was very sympathetic. She put a hand on my shoulder.

“Well, I don’t care what they’ve been saying. I’m glad we met.”

“Thank you. Same here, but I think I should consider cutting my hair.”

“Do you really think that will stop the comments and teasing?” she asked.

My shoulders slumped, and I replied, “No, it won’t make a damned bit of difference.”

“It’s probably not any consolation to you, but I think you’d make a very cute girl.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “No, not really a consolation. I don’t think any guy wants to hear that.”

“What if I said that there are some girls who find guys like that very attractive?”

My eyes snapped over to her, to find her blushing.

“Um. I think I really need to go. Are my clothes ready yet?” I was very uncomfortable about this. I mean, I liked Sharon, maybe even a lot, but did I want to be defined as a girly guy, and that’s why she liked me? I’d have to think about that.

She looked a little disappointed and a bit embarrassed, but said she’d check, and went off to the laundry room. She returned with my clothes, saying they were mostly dry. I didn’t care. We went up to her room and I changed back into them, thanked her and walked home.

-o0o-

My emotions were jumping all over the place. It looked like I could probably have myself a hot girlfriend, but at the cost of being thought of as girly. Having her as my girlfriend would probably piss off my teasers and tormentors, but did I even have a reputation to protect?! Maybe everyone already thought of me as girly!

What would it mean for a relationship? Would she expect me to wear a dress?!

And then again… maybe that first reaction of mine would turn her against me and I wouldn’t have to think about it.

-o0o-

When I reached home I went straight to the bathroom to look in the mirror. My first thought was no, I did not look anything like a girl. It was hard, but I tried to pretend I was looking at a stranger, and I started to see why someone else might think I looked feminine. Obviously, no beard. My face didn’t have all those angular lines most of the guys my age had. Hairline: rounded. Maybe my eyes looked a little large—I don’t know. My lips have always been a little puffier than I would have liked had I had been in charge when I was being designed. And granted, not the widest, manliest shoulders.

But then, the big picture… longish hair, short, kind of ill-fitting clothes, which were not feminine clothes at all. I was still confused about it. How could I be so clueless?

When my mom got home and settled down, I sat down next to her on the couch and asked, “Mom, do you think I look at all like a girl?”

That got her attention fast.

“Did someone tell you that?”

“Kind of. Two people I met today thought I was a girl, and it kind of freaked me out. Short does not automatically equal girly.”

She searched for the right words… “Honey, when you were a toddler a lot of people assumed you were a girl, in spite of the fact that you were dressed as a boy. And then, when you stopped growing taller as your peers did, it made you look younger, and I’m afraid that even lately I have had people ask me if you were my daughter. You do have fine features, and combined with your long hair, that is going to make some people see you as a girl.”

She stroked my hair and said, “But you know that it’s what inside that really counts, right?”

“Of course I do. It’s just, I never ever thought of myself as the least bit feminine, and now, suddenly, two people assumed I was a girl. Do I, like, swish when I walk or something?”

She laughed and said she had never noticed a swish.

-o0o-

The next day at school I skipped the lunch room and just came outside to sit, hoping to avoid Sharon. To make that more of a sure thing, I sat behind the tree, and the lunch period passed without anyone noticing me. I still had to think about getting home unnoticed, so after classes I went to the school library to do my homework there.

I was able to keep this up for three days without running into Sharon, and then it was the weekend. I spent a lot of time wondering what I wanted to happen, and how far I was willing to go. I didn’t really come to any solid conclusions. It would be great to have a girlfriend, but would it be worth the price…

-o0o-

On Monday I again avoided seeing her at lunch, but when I came out of the building after I was done in the library at 4, she was waiting for me.

“Peter, I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable last week,” she started.

I held up a hand. “No apology necessary, Sharon. No one can make a person feel a certain way.”

That startled her a little bit. “You mean… I can’t make you angry, or happy?”

“Right. We are all responsible for our own thoughts and emotions. How I respond or react is always going to be up to me.”

“Huh. I never thought about it like that before,” she said, looking introspective.

I started walking, and she fell in beside me.

“Do you think we could start over? I thought we mostly had a pretty nice time,” she said. “I know you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Sharon, let me tell you something about myself. I’ve been teased and bullied for so long that it’s very difficult for me to trust anyone, to let anyone in. It’s just really hard to let down my guard, and I’m always thinking if I do I’ll get sucker-punched. None of that is your fault. You did startle me with what you said, and it’s been on my mind the last five days. But if the only reason you’re interested in me is because you think I’d make an attractive girl, then I will have to say no thanks. I don’t see myself as the least bit feminine, although now I understand that others might. That was a big shock to me.”

“I appreciate you telling me this, Peter. With that background it’s understandable you don’t want to be burned. It’s true I did think you were a girl at first, but I also liked the little time we spent together, and we seem to have a lot in common. It’s kind of hard to make new friends when you’re at a new school and you don’t know anyone, and that has happened to me a lot. You and I already made a start at being friends, and I would enjoy it if we could continue. It would be sad to think you’re shutting me out because of something that hasn’t even happened.”

I stopped and looked at her. She seemed completely sincere.

“Okay then, but please don’t be insulted if it takes me a while to trust you.”

She smiled then, a very nice warm smile, which I couldn’t help but return.

“Do you mind if I give you a hug?” she asked.

“Um, that would be nice.”

She put her arms around my waist, so I put mine around her neck, and she gave me a very nice, warm hug. It made me feel very good. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a hug from anyone not family.

-o0o-

Over the next few months we would get together a lot, and many times she ate with me at school. Once when she didn’t, she was at a nearby table with a few other girls, and I heard one of them none-too-subtly ask why she was wasting her time with “that loser.”

“Why do you ask?” she said.

“He’s such a dweeb, and kind of girly,” was the reply.

“If you would take the time to actually get to know him,” she said, “you’d find that he is a very nice human being, and one who doesn’t judge people without even knowing them.” She said this all in a calm way. Then she got up from the table and came and sat next to me.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” she quietly said.

“What? Hear you defend me? That was worth hearing. Thank you! I can’t remember anyone ever sticking up for me. I just hope it doesn’t turn you into an outcast too.”

“Well, if it does, I’ll be in good company,” she smiled.

-o0o-

It wasn’t long after this that she and I were walking home, and a couple of good-sized football players accosted us. They plainly weren’t there to ask directions.

Oaf One said “Listen, Fag, we’re here to teach you a lesson, and that goes for your Fag Hag too.”

“Really? You guys teach? I’m really surprised,” I retorted. “And for the record, I’m heterosexual, if you know what that means.”

Oaf One’s face began to turn red. It seemed like he couldn’t think of a smart reply to that, so he simply decided to skip the reply, and started to throw a punch at me. I leaned back to avoid it and kicked him in the ribs. He was none too pleased with that, and started to try and circle me, looking for an opening.

I could see Oaf Two going to make a grab at Sharon. She saw it too, and kicked him in the nuts. He fell to the ground, moaning and grabbing his crotch.

Oaf One was distracted by this, so I grabbed his thumb and twisted it into an unnatural position, forcing him to his knees.

“Let me make this simple for you two,” I said. “I’m doing well in school and don’t need any lessons from you. I suggest you leave both of us alone, or next time we won’t go so easy on you. Do you agree? If not, I could continue and break this joint.”

Oaf Two was in no shape to say anything, but did let out another groan. Oaf One evidently took a little more convincing, so I put some extra pressure on the joint, until he yelped, “Yeah, fine! We’ll leave you alone.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but hate and bigotry is mostly due to ignorance,” I said, letting him go.

Sharon and I then continued on our way, and I complimented her on her strategic kick. She thanked me for helping the situation not get too out of control. And then she took my hand as we walked. I could tell she was shaking a little, as the encounter sank into her brain.

When we got to her house I came inside with her, and she dragged me over to the couch and just held me, trying to calm herself down. Then she moved me so that my back was against her and then wrapped her arms around me, putting her head down by my neck. After my surprise subsided I leaned back into her and patted her arm.

She held me like that for some minutes, and then said, “Peter, I was so scared that both of us were going to get beaten up. And I’ve never purposely kicked anyone like that before.”

“That’s why I take martial arts classes,” I said. “Guys like that were always waylaying me, so I needed to be able to defend myself. You wouldn’t believe how many black eyes and bruises I used to get. But I guess there are always guys who think that since I’m so small it won’t matter how much fighting I know. But see? Now that they know we’re friends, you have become a target too. I’m sorry for that.”

After some time she let go and turned me, leaned over and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. I was very surprised; I didn’t think she had any interest in me like that. She pulled back and looked at me, and I think my surprise must have showed on my face. She leaned back in and gave me a passionate kiss, to which I responded. We continued to kiss and caress until we heard the key in the front door, and then pulled apart.

Cindy walked in and saw us on the couch, and could somehow sense the atmosphere. She grinned. “Hey, you two. Whatcha doing?”

“Just talking,” said Sharon.

“Uh huh,” said Cindy, with a knowing look. “It’s about time you two got together.” She went into the kitchen.

Sharon was smiling at me, and said, “Yes, it is; she’s right.”

I must have had a really glazed or dazed look on my face, because Sharon asked if I agreed.

“Oh… yeah. It’s just that I never thought you would ever consider me boyfriend material. You’re tall and beautiful, smart, nice – you could have your pick of the guys.”

“You have a few things to learn about girls, Peter. We don’t all go for the big jocks. Sometimes we go for the guys who are also smart and nice, and have integrity, no matter their height. In fact, I was wondering how long it would be before you let down your barriers enough to allow me in.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt bad about having kept her at arm’s length, but I had had bitter experience to draw on.

-o0o-

So we became officially a couple. She was my best friend – really, my only friend. Some idiots at school still razzed me, and some of them gave her grief, but she was very level-headed and didn’t feel the need to talk back. I, of course, ignored them, as long as they left me alone.

I felt myself growing very close to her, and—dare I say it—in love. My mom liked her; her parents liked me.

-o0o-

A few months later we were walking home from school again, and as we got to her street, the skies suddenly opened. It was the kind of rain where even five seconds in it will get you totally soaked. It wasn’t worth running, but we did anyway, and made it into her house.

We took off our shoes in the foyer and she ran to get some towels. Once we were dry enough not to drip all over the house we went upstairs. As with that first time, I stripped in the bathroom and came back out wearing the towel. She took some clothes in with her and did the same. I was a little chilly, and when she came back out I asked for a blanket. Instead she came over and started making out with me. She pushed me down on the bed and got on top of me and we continued.

Suddenly she broke off, smiled, rolled off me and sat up.

“I know we talked about this once, but I don’t really have much of a clothing choice for you, so how about wearing something of Cindy’s again? Unless you’d prefer to wear the towel until your clothes are dry?”

I could guess where this was going, and the way I cared for her now, I didn’t feel like she was trying to take advantage of me, so I just said, “Okay, what the heck.”

She left for Cindy’s room, coming back holding a girly white blouse and navy blue pleated skirt. From her own room she found a pair of panties, and handed it all to me. I went into the bathroom and put it all on. I glanced in the mirror, but still basically saw myself, wearing girls’ clothes.

She gave me a big smile when I came out, and had me sit down while she dried my hair and arranged it somehow, so that when I looked in her mirror I now saw a passable girl. I couldn’t believe how much difference that made. As I said earlier, I could kind of see how people thought I looked a little girly, but now, with the blouse and hairdo, there was almost no doubt. I felt a little faint, that with almost no effort she could make me look like a girl. Not a super-attractive one, but not too ugly either.

She was looking at me in the mirror and seemed to understand my reaction, especially since my jaw was hanging open. She leaned over and put her arms around me.

“Do you see what I mean now, about you making an attractive girl?”

“Well, um, kind of. Not ugly, anyway.”

“Peter, you’re very good looking, and I find you attractive, boy or girl. Now come back over to the bed.”

I did that, and we went back to making out, only this time I felt my senses kind of heightened. I was very aware of the fabric of the blouse, and the skirt on my legs. I was getting pretty aroused, we were both breathing pretty heavily. I pulled back. As much as I liked or loved Sharon, I wasn’t ready to make a baby. And I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I was ready to lose my virginity.

“I’m really sorry, Sharon, but I’m just not ready to go any further.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but you’re right – it’s probably not a great idea,” she answered. “And on another subject, I never put our clothes in the dryer! Come with me and we’ll do that.”

We gathered up the wet clothes and went down to the laundry room, got the dryer started, and then went to the kitchen for a snack. Of course she told me to sweep my skirt as I sat down. I was about to ask how Cindy was going to react when we heard her come in.

“Sharon? Can you get me a towel? I’m soaked through.” She called out.

“Coming, sis!” she yelled back, and left me in the kitchen. I was kind of dreading what she might say, even though I knew she was a mature and accepting person. But once she had gotten the towel from Sharon she went straight up the stairs to dry off and get out of her wet clothes. Sharon returned to the kitchen.

“What’s she going to say when she sees me, and in her clothes?”

“Cindy is a pretty laid back person, and I really don’t think she’ll make fun of you. If you want I’ll go up and tell her what happened, and why you’re wearing her things.”

That seemed like a better idea than her just walking in and discovering me, so I said yes, please.

Shortly after Sharon returned, Cindy came down, dressed very casually in a white top and shorts. She looked me over and said, “You look very pretty, Peter. But Sharon, why didn’t you just give him a pair of my pants and a tee?”

“Because I wanted to see what he’d look like girled up,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

“I can understand that,” Cindy said, knowingly. “You should have a girl name,” she added.

“Cindy, I’m just wearing these until my clothes are dry; I’m not trying to make a lifestyle change.”

“Yeah, but calling you Peter while you’re wearing those just doesn’t seem right,” she said.

Sharon closed her eyes for a minute and thought about it. Then she said, “How about… Gwen?”

It didn’t really matter much to me, since I wasn’t planning on making this a regular thing, although I admit I really enjoyed that make-out session.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

I could tell she wanted me to be a little more involved in the naming decision, but if it made her happy, then it was okay with me.

Crooking her finger at me, she said, “Come with me, Gwen.” And she led us back upstairs while Cindy grinned like mad.

After another lengthy and very stimulating round of kissing, etc., the dryer was finished, and I changed back into my clothes only minutes before her mom arrived home.

“Did any of you get caught in that sudden downpour? I could see it from my office window and it looked pretty heavy,” she said.

“Yes, mom. Peter and I got pretty wet, but I got him dried off,” she said, causing her mother to raise her eyebrows. Cindy kept her mouth shut.

Sharon, noting the eyebrow, just briefly said, “Blow dryer.”

I’m not sure her mother bought it, but we didn’t look too guilty. I mean, we didn’t actually do anything wrong.

-o0o-

After that whenever we made out I couldn’t stop myself from comparing it with how I felt doing it while dressed up. It was good, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t as intense. So though I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it, I found myself asking her to dress me up again.

“I’d be very happy to dress you up!” she said, almost too gleefully. “Any special reason for the request?”

I hemmed and hawed and finally got out that it just felt more intense.

“You’re right. It was better for me too,” she said, and went off to find something else of Cindy’s for me.

This time she returned with a dress. It had short puffy sleeves and a full skirt, which wasn’t as long as I would have liked. She pulled out a pair of panties from her drawers, and also got out a bra. That caused me to raise my eyebrows.

“This will enhance the experience, I’m sure,” she said, in explanation to my unspoken question. “Take off your shirt now so I can help you with it.”

I did, and she got it on me, using the tightest set of hooks (although they weren’t all that tight on me), and adjusted the little straps. Then she stuck a pair of tights in each cup and sent me into the bathroom to change. It was a little different this time, with these two objects kind of in my way. However, I was intelligent enough to figure out how to get my underwear off and the panties on with my limited line of sight. I dropped the dress over my head but was having trouble getting the zipper up. How did girls do that??

Coming out of the bathroom I just turned my back to her. She zipped the zipper up the rest of the way and I felt the dress tighten around me in a rather pleasant way. But it also seemed to make the, um, boobs stick out more. I turned around and Sharon was smiling. “Hi Gwen!” she said. She sat me down and did whatever it was she did to my hair to make it look like a girl’s hair, and then almost leaped on to me, pushing me on to the bed.

“You look so pretty!” she said, between kissing and nibbling. I was getting very turned on by her getting turned on, and yes, the clothes were adding to that feeling. I felt suddenly hot, my breathing sped up, and there was a definite straining down below, and before I knew it, I came, in what felt like the most spectacular way I ever had.

Sharon could easily tell, since I went limp as a rag doll.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling very embarrassed.

“Why?” she asked. “It’s a perfectly natural reaction.” She was still smiling at me, and leaned over to kiss me some more. I looked up at her and was amazed at this wonderful girl, and how kind she was to me. My eyes suddenly filled with tears as I realized how lucky I was.

“What’s the matter, Gwen?” she asked, very tenderly.

“I’m… I’m just grateful that you’re my friend. It’s been a long time, and like I said, I never had any expectations that you’d want to be anything more than friends.”

“You poor thing. You’ve had a lonely life, haven’t you.”

“I told myself I didn’t need friends, that I was fine by myself. Now look at me. Here I am, lying on the bed in a dress, making out with a wonderful girl, and needing a wash. Life can certainly be unpredictable!”

She laughed and rolled off me so I could get up and go wash myself. I glanced at the time and decided to change back to my own clothes. I looked in the mirror first, and now I was seeing a girl, one younger than I was. Shaking my head I somehow got the zipper down and was able to get the dress off and clean myself up. I was also relieved that nothing got on the dress. Actually, I was kind of hoping that Cindy never wore this dress anymore!

Sharon looked disappointed when I came back into her room in my own clothes, but I just pointed to the clock and she understood.

-o0o-

On the weekend I invited her over to my house, and she brought some girls clothes with her. Mom wasn’t home, and it wasn’t long before Sharon had me dressed up in another dress, and wearing pantyhose. We got right down to some serious necking, and enjoying ourselves. Afterwards we were just sitting on my bed talking, with our arms around each other when there was a knock and my door opened up. Mom had come home in stealth mode, it seemed. She was about to say something when she caught sight of me. I froze.

“Oh!” was her first remark.

Then, “That looks very nice on you, Peter.”

“Her name is Gwen, Mrs. Brock,” said Sharon, as if a mother bursting in on her cross-dressed son was an everyday occurrence. “She does look nice, doesn’t she!”

“Um, Gwen, does this have anything to do with our discussion of several months ago?”

“I think it just might, Mom. Sharon was the first person I knew who actually told me she thought I was a girl at first.”

“And obviously you have no problem with that, Sharon,” said my mom. “I’m glad, as he’s been mistaken for a girl ever since he was a toddler.”

“I’m glad to know I’m not the first one to think so, Mrs. Brock. Gwen really is a beauty.”

“I have to agree with you, Sharon. Ah, Gwen, you and I will talk tonight,” she said and left, actually closing the door. Maybe she thought two girls couldn’t get up to any mischief?

“I’m glad that’s out of the way!” said Sharon. “I was afraid there was going to be a big, unpleasant scene some day when your mom discovered you in a dress.”

“You thought this was going to happen?” I said, hardly believing it.

“It just seemed inevitable it would happen at some point,” she replied.

We talked on for a while and then decided to get a snack and a drink. There was no reason for me to hide from mom now, so we just went to the kitchen as is. Mom was sitting at the table with a coffee.

“Some refreshments, girls?”

It seemed stupid to me that I had any negative feelings about being called a girl and “she” when I was dressed as I was, and looking like a girl. But I knew mom wasn’t saying it in a condescending way.

“Don’t worry, mom, we’ll help ourselves.”

We got ourselves some cookies and drinks and sat down with her. The three of us chatted about inconsequential things for a while, until mom asked if I had been bullied lately.

“Not recently, no. The last time was a few months ago. Sharon was with me, but together we kicked their butts!”

“Peter was able to defuse the situation with a minimum of violence,” said Sharon. “I was very impressed.”

“Hey, you helped too, by kicking that other guy in the balls. He certainly would have hurt you otherwise.”

Mom looked a little horrified, but I reassured her that we had had no trouble from either one of those guys since then.

When Sharon was ready to leave, mom asked if she could leave the clothes with us for now. Sharon gave her a knowing look and said that was fine. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. She drove Sharon home, as it was getting late. I was too chicken to go outside like that, but she did ask me to stay dressed.

We fixed dinner together, which was nice, and then sat on the couch next to each other after we had finished cleaning up.

“So, how do you feel about being dressed like that?” she asked.

“Not as bad as I would have thought,” I answered. “There are some aspects of this I like.” Not that I would ever have gone into detail about my prime motivating factor with her!

“For me it’s a rare opportunity to see the daughter I never had,” she said. “And I’m grateful for that. You really are very pretty.”

“Well, um, thank you. I take after my mother.”

We both laughed at that.

“Are you thinking you might want to do it some more? Especially now that your mother is aware?”

“I really don’t know, mom, but I’m thinking probably yes.”

“Then we should probably get some of your own clothes. Those obviously aren’t Sharon’s. You told me she has a little sister, didn’t you?”

“Yes, they’re very likely Cindy’s, since we’re close to the same size, even though she’s thirteen! NOT that I’m jealous that she’ll still be growing!”

“Oh, in that case maybe you’ll get her hand-me-downs!” she teased.

“Ha Ha, mother. No, Cindy is a good sport, and a very nice person.”

“Still, when you take that dress off, let me check the size.”

We hugged, and she held me longer than usual, and then we went to prepare for bed.

“Goodnight, Gwen.”

“’Night, mom.”

-o0o-

Somehow Sharon’s parents never seemed to encounter us when I was dressed. We had progressed to the stage where I felt comfortable outside, and we’d go out sometimes to buy me some more girls clothes at a secondhand shop, so we wouldn’t have to raid Cindy’s closet. Sharon made sure I had the correct size bra, instead of using hers, and she bought me girls’ underwear.

She schooled me in the way I moved, gestures, how I talked, so that I wouldn’t stand out.

Our make-out sessions were wonderful, and I looked forward to them eagerly. When she came to our house I was always dressed, and sometimes she and mom and I would have dinner together. Mom even took us out to dinner—in the next town over—a few times. When we went out like that Sharon would change my hairdo and do full makeup on me to make sure I wasn’t easy to recognize. I really started to enjoy being Gwen.

-o0o-

I suppose it was only a matter of time before Sharon’s parents cottoned on to what was going on, practically under their noses. The two of us were in a neighboring town at the mall one day, with me as Gwen, and her mother happened to see us, though we didn’t see her. She was cool enough not to come over and say anything then, but when we got back to the Kensington’s house late that afternoon (via my house, to change), her mother was waiting for us.

“Sharon, I happened to see you and another girl today at the mall.”

Both of us had mini heart attacks on hearing that.

“Peter, the girl looked like she could be your sister.”

“Okay mom, stop toying with us. You obviously know it was Peter, except that en femme her name is Gwen. It’s a little game we play that started by accident when I spilled a coke on him the first day we met. We both liked it, and have been doing it ever since.”

I was really impressed with Sharon for that speech. She let her mother know we didn’t feel guilty, that it was not a big deal, that it wasn’t a sex thing, and that no one was being forced, and she did it in a calm, relaxed way.

“Why didn’t you let us know?”

“Why was it necessary to tell you? We aren’t doing anything illegal, and are just enjoying ourselves.”

“That’s a good point, Sharon. Peter—I mean Gwen, you looked very pretty, and I had no idea you were anything other than how you presented yourself.”

“Thanks, Mrs. K, but I’m in Peter mode now. Sharon has been a good teacher. My mom told me that ever since I was little people have been mistaking me for a girl. I really had no clue until I met Sharon.”

She took a longer look at me.

“Yes, I guess I can see how people might make that mistake.”

“Mom, how do you think Dad would react to Gwen?”

She thought for a bit, and said, “I’m really not sure. He’s never shown any homophobic behavior, to my knowledge. Should we watch Mrs. Doubtfire and see how he reacts?”

“Maybe it would be best to just let it alone for now. Dad doesn’t really have to know,” said Sharon.

“It would be safer,” said her mother, “and I agree that it’s not such an important issue.”

-o0o-

Well, the best-laid plans, and all that… Sharon and Gwen were walking about a block away from my house when a car slowed to a halt near us. Yes, it was her dad. He called out to Sharon, offering us a ride.

“We’re just going to Peter’s house, Dad, but thanks.”

“Hop in and I’ll take you there.”

If Sharon started arguing about it that would just probably raise a red flag, so we got in, with me in the back seat.

He turned in his seat to introduce himself, but after I saw a few expressions flit across his face I could tell he had figured out who I was.

“I’m Mark Kensington, Sharon’s father, obviously. What’s your name?”

Sighing, I said, “Gwen Brock, Mr. K.”

“Peter’s twin sister, I presume?”

“Even closer than that, Mr. K.”

Sharon was looking very nervous, which her dad noticed.

He started to laugh, and said, “Relax, honey, I’m not going to suddenly throw a fit and start yelling. Some day I need to show you my college yearbook, with the Powder Puff game photos.”

“YOU, Dad?”

Mr. K was a big, manly man. It was next to impossible to picture him in any sort of feminine garb.

“Yes, me. I was just as tall, but not quite as bulked out as I am now. And I didn’t make nearly as good an impression as Gwen here. Women and children screamed in horror when they saw me at the game.”

“I kind of doubt that, Dad, since they came to the game expecting to see sights exactly like you!”

“Okay, you got me, but it was a close thing. Were you two really heading to Peter’s house, or was this just a move to put me off the scent?”

“No, we really were. Thanks for the lift. I’m invited to have dinner there tonight, so don’t expect home me for a while,” said Sharon.

“Okay, honey. Call if you need a ride. Bye Gwen, nice to meet you.”

“See you, Mr. K. Thanks for the lift.”

He let us off at my driveway and took off.

“Guess we were worried for nothing, eh Sharon?”

“It was the best outcome, Gwen!”

-o0o-

A few years later Sharon and I had both graduated from high school. She had gone to the local community college until I was done with twelfth grade, so we could go off to university together. We were very close, as both girlfriends and girlfriend and boyfriend. And no, I never did get any taller, or bulk out, or sound manly. Nothing was wrong with me—my mom found an old photo of her grandfather, and it turned out he was also a real shrimp, though he did have muscles! She told me that part of his job was hauling 50 lb. sacks of potatoes around, draped over his shoulder.

Cindy did indeed outgrow her clothes, and Sharon took many of them for my wardrobe, although I didn’t think they were really what a girl my age would wear.

At college we lived in a small apartment off-campus, so our dress-up games continued. Many of the people we went to college with were, fortunately, far more mature than at our high school, so I wasn’t ostracized. But I did continue to get a lot of people thinking I was a girl.

After two years I still couldn’t decide what I wanted to put my energy into, so I dropped out and went to work in an office, putting the business classes I had taken to some use.

Sharon got a degree in social work. After a few years of that she went on to get a second Master’s degree in Counseling. When she opened her own office, I became her office manager/secretary/bookkeeper, as Gwen, and was accepted at face value by all.

I was now always Gwen, and didn’t really miss Peter, so I legally changed my name to make life easier. My mom loved having a daughter, and the Kensingtons liked me either way. The whole family was really great, not uptight at all, and they had raised their daughters very well. But I always felt like a midget when we visited them, Cindy having grown into a tall, lovely young woman, just like her sister.

We married, but decided not to have kids. The only thing I did to become more feminine was to get breast implants, which both of us enjoyed. I was a long way from the bullied short kid I’d started out as.

The End.