Sam is accused of date-rape, but the girl's mother offers him an alternative to jail.

by Vickie Tern

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i.
 
I'd been listening patiently forever, it seemed like forever, as my Mom laid out the proposal with my Dad mostly listening but occasionally interjecting things like, "Well, what did you expect?" and "You brought it on yourself!" and sometimes angrily, "Don't interrupt your mother, just listen, young man!" Finally she stopped talking, and we all three sat silent for a while.

I finally found my breath. I was furious, beside myself, but this wasn't the best time to show it, so I just shouted out in an injured voice, "Mom! How could you think I'd ever agree to that? No way! Noooo way! I won't do it!"

The two of them glanced at each other. Mom let out a long sigh, then wearily looked down at the kitchen table, studying the sugar bowl. Dad sat silent, glaring unhappily into the middle distance. Neither of them was willing to look me in the eye. My God, I suddenly realized, this was not like the other times. This one was real bad!

A long pause. "Can you think of any alternative, Sam?" my Dad asked me quietly, sadly.

"Yes, the alternative is I just don't do it! I don't care! No way! And that's final!"

Flat and final refusals had sometimes worked in the past. My folks loved me, and they hated to see me unhappy, and I suppose you could say I was pretty spoiled Especially after my older sister Beth went away to college and then got married and moved downstate, and I was the only kid still living at home. All through my teens I'd say 'No!' firmly whenever I felt like it and they'd quit insisting, usually. They'd leave me home Sundays when they wanted to visit Aunt Julia and I wanted to watch football or just hang out. And if I was grounded or I'd earned myself a curfew, but protested vigorously enough, they'd always relent.

Not this time. Dad turned to Mom and said quietly, with deep sadness, as if I weren't even in the room, as if he was trying to write me off, distance himself to save himself anguish, "OK then. He takes the consequences. He doesn't go to college this fall. He goes to jail, and that's the least of it. For five years they told me. We tried. Let him ruin his life and ours. Maybe it's already ruined. Do you want to call and tell her it's no go, or should I?"

"This isn't something for the phone," Mom replied. "I'd better just go next door and talk to her. I'll tell her we're sorry, we tried, but she'll just have to do what she feels she has to do." There were tears in her eyes. She looked around for her purse and prepared to stand up. "Maybe she'll ...."

"No," Dad said. "She won't."

"I guess not," Mom said. "I wouldn't."

Another long pause. Mom stood up and went over to the counter where she'd stowed her purse, and opened it, and took out a tissue to dab her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Sam!" Dad said suddenly, sternly. He'd seen how Mom was unable to hold back her tears. He turned to face me for one last try. I tried to grin, but his face was granite. Jeez, scary! Maybe this really was serious? I listened. There was an edge of grief in his voice I'd never heard before. "Sam, you still don't understand! You're old enough to be a man but you're still pulling these childish stunts on us. You still think that bullshit of yours applies, hang tough and it'll all go away."

My God, he knows how I always act when he makes demands on me? And yet he gives in?

"Well, this won't go away. If your mother walks out that door the police will be here inside of fifteen minutes, and you'll be taken away in handcuffs, and that will be that. Your life will change from then on. It's a mandatory five year sentence, Sam! Minimum! What was about to be your college years will be instead your years in the State Penitentiary. That's where soft ripe boys like you very quickly find out how Jennifer felt when you forced her to have sex with you. When you and Charlie forced her. It isn't called 'rape' there, it's called 'bitching.' Or more commonly, 'fucking'!"

"Dad," I said, as ingratiatingly as I could, realizing that this was the first time I'd ever heard him use that word, "Calm down! This isn't that big a deal! She was asking for it! She wanted it, same as all the others! All this past year girls have been after me to do it with them so they can tell their friends 'I made it with the Captain of the football team,' or 'I made it with the cutest boy in the class!' I know it! I've heard them talk about me the next day! I can't help it if I'm popular!" I grinned.

For once, my charm failed me. Dad's face turned black! "Sam," he said in the lowest growl I've ever heard from his throat. "You may think this is funny, but it's not funny! It's tragic! It's killing me and your mother both, and it may well kill you literally. I mean, prison is a cruel place. In prison, if you can't play your boyfriends off against each other, they'll kill you to save face so no one else can have you. To save what they call 'cred'. Then you're dead. I don't care what you thought you were doing, or what she thought she was doing, or what you know Jennifer's done in the past. It was rape, clear and unmistakable, and you will be convicted of rape, so cut the crap! That's what it was! You and Charlie raped your own neighbor's daughter! Your own classmate!"

"No way, Dad!" In my class, half the girls had already put out even before they were sixteen, way before they got to the age where their parents couldn't claim it was statutory rape any longer. Fathers now and then tried to bring the charge anyhow, to avenge themselves because their dearest darling daughters had become sexually active. But even their own lawyers laughed in their faces. I mean, I'd heard that Jennifer took on the whole soccer team the year she made cheerleader, when she was only fourteen. That's what they claimed. By now, I figured, what with all those comings and goings in and out of her, and all those since then, her cunt was probably like a downtown parking lot.

That's why this was bullshit! "It's her word against Charlie's and mine," I said firmly, in an 'I rest my case' tone of voice. "Two against one!"

Now Dad got towering mad! I was shocked, I'd never seen him like this! "You asshole! Now you're a lawyer? Well, I'm the lawyer in this family, and I tell you right now that if this goes to court you don't have a chance. You are dead meat! You will go to jail where your ass is Bubba's to use or to swap with some other Bubba! The whole thing's on their home security tape! Voices and all! Her voice saying 'No!' over and over, and she sounds frightened! And her sobbing afterward? Heartbreaking! I've seen that tape! I've heard it! I've spared your mother the sight of it, but no defense lawyer would ever want to allow that tape to be played to a jury. It would put you away for life! But it's admissible, obviously, so no defense lawyer would ever be able to suppress it. Asshole!"

I'd never heard him like this. Jeez, he sounded scared as well as furious. Mom was waiting by the door, a little astonished herself by his vehemence. I just stared.

"She even has your semen sampled and registered and witnessed, you stupid shit! Yours and Charlie's all mixed together! God! My own son, forcing himself on a helpless girl! A neighbor's daughter! And not just any neighbor, a woman doctor neighbor. Not just any doctor, a forensic pathologist who knows all about how to gather the evidence and what to tell the D.A.! A woman who deals with scum like you all the time! Her own daughter! Can you imagine? How did I spawn anyone as stupid as you?"

He was right, I guess. It was beginning to get through to me. I had been a stupid shit. I don't know why I'd insisted on ... doing it with Jennifer. Maybe to prove to my pal Charlie that all the girls really do want me and even though I hadn't even tried this one yet, she was no exception. I'd been batting a thousand all year. Home runs every time! And there was this one was sunbathing in her bikini in her back yard and we saw her and we'd gone over to chat and we'd asked her to show us something she had in her bedroom and .... well, the rest of it just followed. Same as it always did. But now for the first time I began to feel a little scared. All of a sudden my bravado collapsed.

"I thought she wanted to do it," I said weakly.

"No you didn't," was all my Dad said. "You knew she didn't want to do it. She told her mother she was terrified and mortified and felt violated, and her mother's still outraged, simply furious. So you say 'No deal'? All right then. Tonight you sleep in the county jail, and your life takes a very different turn?"

That wasn't acceptable. I knew that now. "If I do what you say, this thing Jennifer's mother says, my life takes a very different turn anyhow," I said morosely.

Mom heard me. She set her purse back down on the counter and just stood there silently.

"Yes, it does," my Dad said. "It will. But it might be quite pleasant, some of it anyhow. It'll be a lot better than jail. And you'll still be able to live here this summer. And go to college in the Fall. We can still be a family." His voice broke as he repeated the word. "A family."

"Please," I heard my Mom whisper under her breath, as if reciting a prayer. "Please, Sam!"

They were right. I'd been a stupid shit and they loved me and I owed them. Above all I owed Jennifer and her family. After what I'd done I suppose I ought to make amends. Give them what they wanted. I suppose I should call myself lucky they were offering me an alternative to jail.

"OK," I said. "What do I have to do exactly? You say you'll help me? How do I do it?"

They both stared at me, unable to believe their ears. And at that moment the phone rang. Dad lifted his eyes to Mom, standing by it, and she answered it. "Yes," I heard her say. "Sam too, just now. Finally." She paused. "Bertha, I'm so relieved! Yes, at least we'll still have them home, and they can still see each other, that's a blessing."

As she hung up she said simply , "Charlie's mother. He agreed right off. He's already ... wherever Dr. Taylor sent him, and his mother says he'll be back home again in only a day or so. Away hardly any time at all! Thank God!" And she sat down and buried her face in her arms and began to cry.

I never felt so terrible in my whole life. For a while we all three just sat there, my Mom's shoulders shaking, an occasional wail stifled by her arms.

"What do you have to do, you ask?" Dad said finally, resuming our conversation. "Well, that's more your mother's department than mine. She'll have to tell you."

We waited some more. Mom gradually got control over herself and sat back, and took a few deep breaths.

"Sam," she said. "Honey, really, it won't be that bad. It can be a lot of fun in fact, if you just look at it the right way."

"What way is that?" I asked. "Look at what?" I was feeling dragooned, and I wasn't happy about it. It wasn't fair, really. Five minutes of my ... imposing myself on Jennifer paid for by giving up a whole summer? Still, as Dad pointed out, giving up a summer's better than giving up five years. Or more. I drew in a deep breath, and in a mild voice I told them that. That what they were proposing now sounded reasonable. I thought they'd be pleased to hear I was reconciled to it.

Mom looked worried. "Maybe you don't understand, Sam," she said. "It isn't just the summer you'll be giving up."

"Let's not worry about that right now," Dad broke in abruptly. "One thing at a time, I think. One day at a time. Shouldn't we be calling Jennifer's mother now and telling her that you're willing to cooperate? That you want to do everything you can to set things right?"

"Sam has to do that," Mom said. "She said that she'll need to hear his voice when he says it. It isn't too late to call now, do you think?"

"No," Dad said. "It's only 7:00 pm. She said any time before 9:00 pm. After that she calls the cops."

"Well, Sam, call her. Talk to her," Mom said. "Just remember, this isn't a punishment. Call it a kind of therapy. For Jennifer. Your job is to restore her self-confidence, her self-respect. Her feeling of control over her own life. You took those things away, and now you need to give them back. Think of it that way."

"By being her friend, doing everything she wants me to do all summer long, satisfying her least little whim?" I asked a little resentfully, trying to wrap my mind around the idea. "By being her servant in effect?"

"By being helpful to her," Mom corrected me. "By being agreeable. Yes, by being her friend." Mom's eyes were looking into mine insistently. I couldn't look away. "Don't avoid the issue. If she wants, by being her personal maid and waiting on her hand and foot, that's true, but I don't think she wants that. She wants you to be her companion. Like a girlfriend. As near as you can get to that. That's the main reason for this. And that's not negotiable."

"Why not negotiable?" I asked. I suppose I still had a shred of hope that maybe I could talk myself out of the most humiliating part of this job. Pretending I'm a girl. All summer!

"I've told you and I've told you, Sam," Mom said wearily. "Right now any male her own age is a threat to her. That's what her mother says. It often happens that way. She needs to feel reassured that boys aren't threatening, that they can even be nice. She knows you're a boy and that you've done more than threaten her, you've forced yourself on her. She needs to know now that you're no more of a threat to her than any girl would be. That you're willing to be a girl. So she and her mother can still live here as neighbors and yet not be constantly reminded or threatened."

"Stupid kid," Dad muttered to himself. "To a neighbor he's known half his life yet!"

Mom paid no attention. "Jennifer also needs to act out her resentments. Seeing you humiliated by being feminized is one way, and the least painful way for you of many available to her, Sam. Keep that in mind. She needs to feel comfortable with you, so all her apprehensions and feelings of helplessness can dissipate. If you can become genuine friends, sharing everything, enjoying each other's company, telling each other your little secrets, being girls together, she'll lose her fear of you. She'll learn to trust you. Girls like to trust each other."

"And frankly," Dad then added, "Dr. Taylor wants to be quite sure that you know how it feels, what it's like to be a girl who's subject to the will of any boy who fancies himself irresistible, just because he's stronger. She's quite firm about that. She means to see to it! I don't know how, because you are a boy after all, and you're relatively strong compared with most girls. Luckily, your adolescence began late, so there aren't many physical differences yet."

"All right," I said, dispirited. "I'll try. Like you say, Charlie'll be going through the same thing, so I won't feel like a complete fool."

"I don't know what Dr. Taylor has in mind for Charlie," Dad said, looking away. "We only talked about you. Something else, I have the impression. You better get on the phone with her now. Be apologetic. Sound genuinely sorry. Be sorry. But don't expect her sympathy, you won't get it."

Dad was right. She listened to me tell her that I agreed to do everything she or Jennifer asked me to do, everything, no matter what, respectfully and without hesitation, the whole summer long. The full three months. She heard me say I was sorry, and that I wanted to do everything I could do to make it up.

"Don't expect a medal," her voice replied coldly. "Just be here at eight tomorrow morning properly dressed for the day. Be sure to call me 'Ma'am' and 'Dr. Taylor" always, and Jenn 'Miss Jennifer' if that's what she wants. Plan to go home after the dinner dishes are cleared unless we have some further use for you. Goodbye!"

The hone went dead. "She wants me properly dressed," I told my mother after hanging it up.

"That's no problem," Mom said. "We still have lots of your sister's clothes, all her high school things and a lot of her later bangles and dresses and things she didn't think were appropriate after she got married and was no longer -- as she'd say -- 'on the prowl.' We have her sportswear and her dating clothes, even some outfits I refused to allow her to wear, you know the kind. She kept everything. They'll fit you, and some of them are really lovely. You might even enjoy wearing them. Though we'd better see that your hairdo is cut and set tonight, so it'll look nice tomorrow. You'll be too busy to fuss with it I suspect."

"If you don't mind," my Dad said. "I don't want to hear any more of this girl talk. I'll leave you two now." He looked at me. "I'm glad you've decided to stay with us, son." He paused. "I guess I should say 'daughter.' Whatever. We both need to get used to a new you. This is your life now."

"For the next three months," I said, trying to sound breezy.

He didn't say anything. Just disappeared into the living room with his newspaper.

Mom just stared at me a little, weighing something. She was now more preoccupied than sorrowful. Suddenly she stirred. "Go to your to your room now and wait for me ... Samantha," she said. "That's got to be your name now, 'Samantha,' so you won't forget for a single moment that's who you are. Sam no longer lives here. And when I say 'your room' I mean your sister Beth's old room. That's where she left all her dolls and dresses and stuffed toys, and they're all yours now. You'd better learn to love them the way she did, because they're now as much a part of your life as they were hers. Your old room is absolutely off limits! You will not enter it again, starting right now! This minute! You hear me?"

"But all my clothes ...." I started to object. Then I stopped in my tracks.

"You're suddenly beginning to catch on, aren't you?" my mother said, a spiteful as well as regretful tone in her voice.

Beth's room was all pink and cream and frilly, mirrors everywhere and Mick Jagger and Leonardo deCaprio posters and so on where there weren't mirrors. A girl's room. Since she'd gone off to college it'd been left pretty much as she abandoned it. Neat. Supernaturally tidy. Unlike my room, with its sports stuff and game controllers and last week's clothes piled on every chair and half the bed and every inch of the floor and all on top of each other. "Why can't you be like your sister?" my mother would cry out exasperated whenever she entered my pad to try to clean anything, or find something. "This place is a pigsty!" It wasn't, though there were half-eaten sandwiches and soiled dishes spilling here and there. Her cry usually meant she'd given up on me. So I never paid it any attention.

Now I'd better. I have to be like my sister, I was thinking. Well, not exactly like her -- I could be my own version. We'll see. I began feeling a little better.

Off limits or not, I decided to stop off in my own room and pick up at least my Wiii to use as minimal survival gear anyhow. I could get through this with a few decent computer games to distract me.

But as usual Mom was ahead of me. "Go directly to Beth's room," she said sternly. "Don't stop in Sam's old room for anything. Not clothes, not his computer games, not even his cell phone. There's nothing there you'll need for the foreseeable future." She paused. "You aren't Sam any more, you're Samantha," she said sternly. Then, "What's your name now?"

"Samantha," I said gently, trying to humor her.

"That's right. Where's Sam?"

"Gone away," I said, hoping that was the right answer.

She may not have heard. She was looking at me critically, speculatively, appraisingly, absorbed, exactly the way she'd look at herself in the mirror just before heading out somewhere fancy with Dad. "I'm going to see if I can get Holly over here tonight yet," she said half to herself. "Maybe she'll be willing to do your hair and maybe help you look a little more appropriate, even though here and not at her salon. She's better at that kind of thing. If we can get you well-squared away with all this right away, then Dr. Taylor will know that you're serious when she sees you tomorrow and maybe she won't feel quite so vindictive. More important, you'll know that this is serious, that this is a real commitment. So you'll feel better about it too when you go next door and begin your new life. If you can start out looking like a real girl, everyone will treat you like one, and it'll be easier to live like one and become one."

As I went upstairs I heard her talking to Holly on the phone. "Everything!" she was saying. "A total wipe-out. He has to begin again, be someone altogether new. She has to, I mean. The less she remembers about what she once was, how she looked, the better!" A long pause. "That's right! No more of that Goth dark hair hanging straight down. Something very different. I was thinking blonde and curly and sort of sprightly. Yes, that would be adorable given the shape of his ... of her face. I do want Samantha looking cute and bright, right from the beginning. Beth was also blonde, so her clothes and make-up will match up with no problem, and we can fill in the more recent styles gradually. And of course tight curls are a lot easier to care for."

Her voice paused. "That's right, 'Samantha.'. Oh, Holly, I don't know what to think, it's too soon. Within a half hour? Wonderful, you're an angel, I'll see to it she's ready."

Was that a sigh or a sob? Mom hung up, and I moved on.

Weird. Passing my old room, I again considered zipping into it and snagging my Wiii despite everything, but then decided against it. Things were difficult enough right now. Certainly for my mother.

I went into Beth's room and sat down on the edge of Beth's bed. And just stared at all the tubes and boxes and pads and pots and bottles, all the stuff still laid out on her "vanity" as she called it -- her creams and ointments for maintaining her body and her face. Though she hadn't lived here for years she'd insisted on leaving it just the way she'd left it, so whenever she came to visit she'd feel right at home.

Mom came in a moment later and went directly to Beth's closet and bureau and began taking things out and looking things over and nodding. "Holly's coming over right away to design your hairdo and show you how to fix your face," she said. "She also suggested a few things. Strip down so we can get you dressed appropriately."

"I'm wearing jeans and a T-shirt," I said. "How's that not appropriate?"

She just looked at me. "Sam ... Samantha, this is hard enough without you making more trouble. It'll help if Holly can imagine she's working on a girl when she does your hair and your face. That way she'll be more likely to come up with something pretty. You're thin and your features are regular and not too large -- I think you'll look quite nice, done right! As adorable as Beth when she was your age. So no more back talk! Strip down and then put these on!"

She handed me some frilly pink panties and a pink frilly bra, and tossed a skirt and blouse down on the bed beside me.

"A bra?" I looked at it and made a face. "I have to wear this? What for?"

Now Mom looked grim. Grim enough to scare me! "I'll give you what for! From now to the end of the summer you will not leave this room without wearing a bra, young man! It isn't decent for any girl your age and you will NOT!" She heard what she'd just called me and it broke her irritation. She actually grinned at herself! "I mean, young lady! This was your choice! You chose it. You're a girl now! A girl is what you are, so you will behave the way all girls behave! Am I understood? Young lady?"

I nodded. There was nothing to say.

"Call me if you need help putting anything on!" She started to leave.

Suddenly she turned back and came toward me and grasped me by the shoulders and looked me earnestly in the eyes. "Sam...Samantha honey, this is not easy for any of us and it's hardest of all for you, I'm sure, but it's done, settled, and it's way better than the alternative, so stop giving us both a hard time. Go with it! Be glad you have the option. You're a girl and that's that! When I got my first bra and when Beth got hers, we were both of us overjoyed! It meant we were becoming women at last! Well, so are you. You're becoming a woman, and this bra is especially pretty, and as you can see it matches your panties and that gives a girl a special feeling of being ... complete. So wear them both proudly! Feel as feminine as they look. I'll see you downstairs in fifteen minutes, girl!" And she turned quickly and left.

Sheesh! I said to myself. 'Girl!' she calls me. But then, what else should she call me? What else had I agreed to become? I was stuck. A girl for the summer. That's what I was.
 
 
ii.
 
So I slipped out of my clothes and into the panties and figured out how to deal with the bra -- clip the band first, then twist it around and slip the straps up onto my shoulders. And tighten them with that slide they put on them. Easy. The cups lay flat, folded across my chest. OK, no matter. It was a denim skirt, pale blue and buttoned in front with brass 'Levi's' buttons, not too girly, except that it was a skirt. But the blouse was bright blue and silky and had a small lacy collar, and lots of space in front for where girls usually bulge. I slipped it on and buttoned its tens of thousands of teeny little buttons and felt silly. Mom had laid out sandals for me, I saw, but no socks.

So I flip-flopped my way downstairs feeling a little foolish, the hem of the skirt brushing unfamiliarly against my calves. Holly had arrived, I saw, this friend of my mother's who ran a beauty salon. She was in the dining room with Mom, laying out on our dining room table all sorts of hair rollers and bottles and girl things from a huge backpack she'd brought with her.

"Ahh, there you are!" said Holly, looking at me, her eyes inexpressive. Then after a moment she added merely, "Sit down here."

I did.

"You'd better understand that I have no sympathy for you, Samantha," she said right off, as she grasped my long black hair and lifted it off the nape of my neck and tugged it here and there, inspecting it speculatively. "Boys who rape girls get no sympathy from me, even if they're the sons of my best friend. Especially if that's who they are, because I know they've been properly raised but even so they've made my best friend miserable."

I looked straight ahead and let her talk -- I figured she had to get it out of her system. She was right, what she said, and I didn't feel good about it.

"And I don't think being a girl is punishment. I think it's a blessing most boys won't ever understand and don't deserve!" She was tucking a towel into my neckline to keep hair and goop off my blouse, I suppose. 'My' neckline I noticed I was calling it. And 'my' blouse. This playing at being a girl was catching! "So, Samantha, I'll just have to think of you as a girl, someone who always was and always will be a girl, and go from there. Does that work for you?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. What else could I say?

"You should do the same thing. Realize that you're a girl. Have you had your first period yet?" She asked me that weird question as she led me into the kitchen the first of what turned out to be three different times, this first time just to wash my hair and get started.

"No, not yet," I said, going along with the gag.

She seemed shocked. "At your age?" she said. "I'd think it could happen any time now. You're very late, you know. And it would stain that skirt -- that's a very pretty blouse, incidentally, I love the collar. My first period was also delayed, and then it came on very suddenly and in gushes! I was in school at the time, in class, and I had to rush to the little girls' room to clean up and get a pad. It was so embarrassing! Ruined a perfectly beautiful plaid skirt, too. So be prepared! You should be carrying tampons, Samantha. Are you?"

"No," I said, beginning to wonder what she was raving about.

"Has your mother shown you how to use them? Maybe also sanitary napkins for your days of heaviest flow?" she asked. Her voice was kind, but with a strange edge to it.

"No, ma'am," I replied.

Instead of replying to me she turned to my Mom, standing at the other end of the dining room and watching the whole procedure, prepared to snuff out any rebellious gestures on my part before they could bother Holly.

"Claire," she said to my Mom. "What do you say? Shouldn't we show Samantha how we deal with our monthlies? Isn't it time she joined the sisterhood?"

She was by now rinsing my hair off with the sprayer on the kitchen sink, and applying some kind of thick cream to it in small batches, rubbing it in with her fingertips.

"I suppose it is," my Mom replied, a little puzzled but hesitating to ask Holly what she meant.

"Then why don't you bring me one of your tampons," she said. "While Samantha's still standing and bending over the sink and this lotion is doing its work is the ideal moment, I think, for her to learn that we aren't made entirely of sugar and spice. It's way past time she became one of us."

Mom saw what she meant and nodded, though I didn't, and turned to go to her room for one.

I'd seen them, I knew what they were. Beth used to leave boxes of tampons all over the house, I supposed to advertise that she was now all grown up. Mom would bawl her out for it -- it wasn't ladylike. Only when one of her friends told her it wasn't cool was when the boxes finally disappeared. "And some vaginal cream too," Holly shouted after my Mom. "For lubricant! We don't want to hurt her the first time around. It should be pleasant for her. Fulfill her, in a way!" She grinned at me, inviting me share her pleasure in her pun. I didn't.

"Vaginal cream? I have something for yeast infections," my mother called back. "But that won't do. And I have Premarin cream. Do you think ...?"

"Premarin's perfect!" Holly replied. "It's poetic justice, in a way. He lubricated Jennifer with the testosterone in his sperm, so we'll lubricate him with the estrogen in his vaginal cream. When the tampon's in place it'll absorb fairly quickly, maybe begin doing wonders for her complexion! Be sure Dr. Taylor knows when she begins her own hormone treatment. We won't want to overdose the poor girl right off."

I didn't like the sound of any of this. But Mom didn't seem worried, and I knew she meant me no harm, so I just waited, bent over the sink with my eyes shut while Holly did stuff to my hair.

"You're wearing very pretty panties, Samantha," Holly's voice declared just over my shoulder, as I felt her pulling them down. I guess the skirt was so short anyone could get their hands up there. But what was she up to now? "Now just stick your tush way out for me." I did. "Relax!" I didn't know what she meant.

But suddenly I felt pressure on my anus. Then something slippery sliding into it. "Oh!" I said in a high pitched voice. Was she was goosing me? Then something sliding out. And something like a turd still in there.

"There! Now you're a woman, Samantha," Holly said. "Wasn't that easy?" She sounded faintly triumphant. "I suggest you change these a few times a day for the next few days, and use this tube of cream to ease the way each time. By the time your period ends you'll be used to it and well on your way, whatever Dr. Taylor is planning for you! Your mother will show you how. All girls have this problem. Solving it becomes second nature. Now sit back in that chair in the dining room, and we'll get started."

I walked ... no, waddled back. It felt like a waddle, but it must have been a twisting sway of some kind, because behind me, Holly whistled and called out to me in an imitation man's voice, "Hey, shake it any more and it'll unscrew itself and fall off, lady! Or maybe it's already been screwed so often it can't possibly fall off?"

"Holly!" my Mom called out in mock disapproval. Meaning real disapproval but she didn't want to seem critical. I understood what she was saying well enough, and I looked back over my shoulder and exaggerated my wriggle.

It was funny though. With that thing in there -- a cotton tube I suppose -- it didn't feel exaggerated. Walking with my ass crammed and rotating just seemed ... the way to walk. Maybe that was the idea? "Samantha, stop that!" my Mom then called to me. "I won't have you undulating your hips like a tramp!"

"No, Mommy," I replied with a grin. To show her I was being a good sport.

But she didn't realize I was joking, calling her 'Mommy' and all, being a good sport. "I mean it!" she said, glaring. "If you must wave your ass at the boys, not in this house!" She was really into this, my being a girl! All her reflexes as Beth's mother were triggered by the sight of me in Beth's clothes! I was her daughter all right!

"I won't," I said soberly, and she looked mollified. Even managed a wan smile. I tried to hold my hips still as I moved to the chair and sat down, but that damn thing in my ass felt strange, and I didn't quite succeed. She really thought I wanted to attract boys? Jeeze!

"Let her, Claire," Holly said mildly. "She needs to practice waving her ass somewhere, or she won't be popular. We both did it. She has a whole new world ahead of her to cope with."

I didn't know if she was serious or kidding, and I certainly didn't want to know.

Two hours later Holly was packing all of her stuff back into her bag, and I was still occupying a dining room chair. I'd had my "comb out" and I was waiting for my nails to dry.

"Those stains on her lips and eyelids will last a good long while," Holly was saying with great satisfaction to my Mom. "It's a new process. Maybe even longer than the year they guarantee."

"A year!" I shouted it out, horrified. "But this ...."

"Samantha!" Mom called out.

I shut up.

"You're a girl, have you forgotten?" Holly said. "Girls are girls, period! You agreed that's what you are, so that's what you are! Don't fret. Permanent tinting on your lips and eyes doesn't prevent you from matching different lipcolors and eyeshadows to your different outfits. Your usual make-up will cover it every time. But it's distinctive enough so any time at all, day or night, waking up or going to sleep, you'll look ... well, the way a girl should look. The way you look right now. Pretty!"

She smiled reassuringly at me. While she'd been working on me for the past few hours, I realized, I'd altered in her mind's eye. I was no longer the delinquent son of her friend but a girl who was sitting there listening to her impatiently, as girls my age do when their elders lecture them. Just as my mother'd hoped when she'd put me into this denim skirt. For the last hour or so Holly really had been beautifying her friend's daughter 'Samantha.'

"Thank you," I said. Several times during the evening my mother had insisted that when complimented, I should reply politely. And Holly had complimented me several times.

"You said a year, Holly?" I added in a small voice. This whole punishment was supposed to last only through the summer. As I understood it. A few months. "How about when I want to look like a boy again?"

"Girls sometimes love to try out a boy look," Holly said. "I understand. No problem. You'd look just darling done up like a boy. Just cover the stains with 'natural' shades of ordinary make-up. Of course even the natural shades have their own matte or gloss finishes, and both of those are so associated with girl looks that they can only approximate the way boys look. They'll work for you, though with the shape of your face and the hairdo I've given you, you'll never fool anyone that you're a boy. You're simply too cute! I envy you, Samantha!"

"You do look very nice, dear," my Mom said. "I suggest you worry about the future another time. You have a lot to cope with right now. I'm pleased for you. What Holly did for you will make your transition a lot easier. You need to thank her."

"Yes, thank you Holly," I said. I stood up and curtsied. They'd taught me that while chatting with each other about likely ways I'll need to know to behave tomorrow, at least in the beginning, to make a good impression. If anyone tried to challenge me, or mock me, my usual aggressive response wouldn't do at all, they'd decided. But exaggerated politeness including curtsying just might. That move -- that sort of bob my body down and up while standing with my back straight, one foot in back of the other -- made the tampon in my butt feel a little peculiar. Not unpleasant, just peculiar. I'd practiced it a few times and decided that even though it was something only girls did, mostly servant girls in movies but sometimes ordinary girls trying to be especially polite, it was ... sort of nice.

But Mom knew that polite or not, by now I felt stressed. She spoke gently. "When Holly leaves us, honey, change your tampon and then go straight to bed. You have a big day tomorrow. I'll show you how, there's nothing to it. Have you seen yourself yet?"

I hadn't. Holly and my Mom exchanged swift glances, as if privy to a secret I wasn't, and Mom then saw her to the front door. I heard her car start. Mom returned.

"To your room, young lady," she said. This time with no harshness, more as a suggestion that should be complied with. "You remember how Beth loved mirrors? How she covered her walls with them? I think you'll appreciate them too now that you'll see something worth seeing in them."

I wasn't worth seeing when I was a boy? Annoyed, I followed her. She passed on into Beth's room, mine now, and flipped on the wall switch, and stood aside and waited for me to enter. I did.

And was astonished. There on the opposite wall, facing the door I was passing through and passing through that very same door, was a rather pretty girl! Her face was small and pert and her hair was a halo of pale blonde curls, almost platinum blonde but with golden highlights. She breathed delicacy, sweetness, daintiness. And she was looking at me amazed, as astonished to see me as I was to see her, yet approving everything she saw. I looked back at her equally astonished.

She suddenly smiled a crooked, radiant, come hither smile at me, and I melted! She wanted me, and I wanted her! Only then did I come to my senses -- I recognized it. That was my standard smile, the reflexive way I informed pretty girls that the captain of their football team likes the way they look and wants to show his appreciation more ... intimately. It was me, that girl! Smiling back at me with a promise of ... oh, all sorts of earthly delights when we found time to... get a little closer!

Holly wasn't exaggerating! Even I'd want to date me! I was a dish! A doll with a sly, knowing look on her face. A teen age temptress! I fell in love with me at first sight!

Mom saw the whole thing happen, each attitude flash across my face. "See, it isn't so bad, being a girl, now is it?" she said.

I couldn't reply. I was speechless.

"Here's what girls wear when they go to bed." She held out a delicate garment of some kind. "Doesn't this babydoll make you feel all scrumptious, just looking at it? A dainty, filmy top that just barely reaches your you-know-what, and a large, comfy pair of matching lacy panties to cover your bottom and keep you decent? It's a set. Here, put it on. Careful of your hairdo when you pull off your blouse, honey. If it tangles it'll be easy to comb out -- Holly made your do wonderfully convenient that way, same as with that permanent make-up you made such a fuss over. But the less trouble we need to take with our daily routines the better."

If I'd seen that babydoll set on the girl in the mirror I'd have gotten hard for her immediately. But I wanted to preserve some semblance of me as I knew myself to be at least from the skin on in. "Mom," I said, trying not to sound querulous. "That ... nightgown is awfully effeminate. I mean, even Beth used to wear pjs to bed, not ... stuff like that."

"These were hers," Mom said insistently, in a tone of voice suggesting that no more objections would be tolerated.. "She's worn them. And there're other things just like it in her drawers and closet. All sorts of undies, nighties, lingerie -- she had her frilly side. She just never thought it proper to show it to her brother, that's all. She wore things like this when she wanted to feel really feminine, sexy. Which you will want to feel too from now on. Feminine anyhow, so no one doubts it, least of all you. So from now on you'll wear all of her frivolous things. Don't worry, they'll feel marvelous and look marvelous on you, and you'll feel just lovely. You'll enjoy them. So no more complaining!"

"Yes'm," I said. I didn't want to give her any reason to overdo this feminizing thing.

"But first, to the bathroom. Each week from now on you'll depillate, you're lucky you don't have much body hair to begin with, but from now on you'll have none. And every night you'll cream your complexion. All over. That's how we keep ourselves clear and smooth and soft. And kissable."

With that last she looked straight at me, and I resolved, no more objecting to anything. Do everything she says or hints. "Yes'm," I replied. "Clear and smooth and soft and kissable."

An hour later I was wearing the babydolls and tucked into Beth's bed, which was now my bed. I was also hairless, except for my head and around my cock. Not that I'd ever grown much hair. Mom had shown me some elaborate night-time cleansing rituals. And also how to change my tampon. There was a little string hanging out of my rear end -- Mom insisted on calling it my 'pussy,' though I never knew she knew such words. Tug on it to pull out the old cotton tampon, take a soft plastic tube out of the box, lubricate it with the tube of 'Premarin' and snake it into your ass, get used to the weird feeling, push in the smaller tube behind it all the way, and that pushes a new cotton tampon way deep into you. Pull out the whole assembly, feel for the new tampon's string to make sure you can get the thing out again. Voila!

"Thatta girl!" she told me when I'd done it successfully and looked up at her with an embarrassed grin.. "Your responsibility now! At least a few times every day, for at least a few days every month. Let's say five days, shall we? Nothing to it! Now let me tuck you in."

She hadn't tucked either Beth or me in for years, so I figured she had something else on her mind. Sure enough. I got into bed and she adjusted a blanket, then leaned over me. "Now, Samantha, here's a real secret you should know. Girls sometimes get to sleep by ... relaxing themselves. Moving their hands over their clits, diddling it and imagining what it would be like if it was a boy's hand. It makes them feel so deliciously girly! You'll want to try it and see for yourself. Every night. I think pretty soon you'll soon love it!"

As she left my room and was closing the door behind her, she repeated her suggestion. "It'll be a girl's hand doing it, yours, but try to imagine it's a boy's hand anyhow. That's one of the

pleasures you can enjoy now that you're a girl. You do look very attractive, very feminine, sweetheart. So feel it, don't deny yourself."

And there I was in the dark. My 'clit,' huh? I slipped my hand into the full, silky panties of my babydolls and began to rub on my 'clit.' Yes! A boy's hand! You bet! Mine!

But then I began to think about the way my fingers, the very fingers clutching my cock at that moment, were red-tipped. It was a girl's hand that was caressing that sensitive, erogenously high-powered part of my body. The way some of the girls in my class did when I dated them and they didn't want to put out for me but did agree to jack me off. It was a girl's hand even though it was attached to the rest of me. I considered how feminine I looked now. And felt the seductive babydoll sliding and drifting over my skin. My lotioned body. My girl's body. A girl's hand? On my 'clit'? Boy or girl, that became a kind of kaleidoscope. Now I was a boy, so it was a boy's hand like mine was when I made moves on all those girls' cunts, getting them excited by stroking those soft wet places and slipping my fingers into their slits, and rubbing their clits, like mine. Like I was rubbing my own clit now. Did it feel as good to those other girls as this does to me? Maybe!

Years ago, Charlie's hand and my hand had jerked each other's cocks off experimentally, when we were kids first checking out the sensations, finding out what it was like. We'd greased our palms and pulled on each other and he'd diddled my clit faster and faster and I'd tried to imagine he was a girl but he'd remained Charlie, and then suddenly he'd squirted on my shoes, and I'd reached for the kleenex just in time to catch my own cum as it spurted out of my own clit. I mean cock!

I'd just cum! I lay there, pleased, my drippy girl parts still contained by my babydoll panties. My pretty babydoll panties....
 
 
iii.
 
I heard knocking and opened my eyes. Daylight. "Time, honey!" my mother said. "Your first full day as a girl! Remember to change your tampon when you take your shower, and check for any last hairs where they don't belong." She looked at me. She saw me glance down. "Yes," she repeated. "There too next time, girly, I think bare is nicer for a pussy. More attractive." She briefly looked flustered, as if she hadn't meant to say that. Then "Always glance under your arms to check for fuzz, and use a shower cap to protect your hairdo. And use lotion all over yourself afterward always -- you'll want to feel soft and smell nice. Then come for breakfast."

This time slipping that plastic sleeve into my ... pussy and pushing in the cotton wad piston wasn't a problem at all. In, push, pull out. Done. Set! "Hey, I can do this!" I was thinking. Mom left out a big bottle of body lotion alongside the sink, so I used it to finish up. Better not try to use make-up yet -- a glance at my face showed me that the dark pink stain Holly'd put on my lips and the gray stain on my eyelids served well enough. Very girlish. When I took off my shower cap, I saw that my curly blonde hair was already presentable. Just a little fluffing with my fingertips in the mirror and .... my God that was an incredibly girlish gesture! My instinct was to feel ashamed, make myself feel more manly, even ape-like, but I realized immediately that I'd better suppress that reflex. That I better practice more girly stuff if this is supposed to come off right. So I lifted my elbows a little bit higher and fluffed my hair again, this time shrugging my shoulders with each hand motion. And did that ever look cutesy-pie? I smiled slyly at my all-girl mirror image. I'd just made a conquest of my first male!

That thought then made me uneasy, so I pushed it out of mind.

I found when I got back to Beth's -- I mean, my -- room that while I was showering Mom had laid out on the bed a chemise and a simple red cotton dress, a kind with a few ruffles gathered together up the front to hide the buttons, and also hide the absence of boobs. Clever! Also a belt -- I recalled that last night Mom and Holly had decided that with my narrow hips I should wear belts for the time being, to pull in my waistline and create the illusion that I had curves. Why'd they say 'for the time being'? I wondered. She'd also laid out a bra and a fresh pair of panties.

OK, no sweat, this is my life, I said to myself. So I clipped on the bra same as before, and pulled on the panties, and took the chemise and then the dress and raised them over my head and let them fall onto me one after the other, then belted the dress. On the floor were "flats" I remembered they were called, as against "heels." Shoes that looked a little like slippers, so I slipped my feet into them. And checked myself in the mirrors, and gave a little twirl.

Very nice!! This wasn't too bad! If I was a girl, I'd go for me, I decided. Hey, I'd better be one, I then realized! No 'ifs'! I better seem to be one for real or I'm in big trouble.

Anyhow, I sure looked real! I tried to mince my way downstairs and ended up skipping down. That new full feeling in my rear end was now kind of ... reassuring. Comforting. I liked it!

When I got downstairs there was Dad just leaving the house for work. He looked me over gravely and said nothing. Then finally, "Well, anyhow, Samantha, you won't disgrace us. You look very nice, dear. Enjoy your day."

"Thank you, daddy," I said. He looked surprised, then smiled at me pleasantly and left. Only afterward, staring at the closed door behind him, did I realize what I had called him. Well, if he didn't mind ....

Mom had laid out a full breakfast for me. Juice and cereal and bacon and eggs and toast and everything. Trying to cheer me up, I supposed. Or to reward me for going along with this ... silliness, was how I still viewed it, though oddly, some of it was interesting, even exciting. Considering that the alternative was hard time in jail, this wasn't so bad.

"Will Charlie be doing stuff at Dr. Taylor's and Jennifer's place today too?" I asked her with my mouth full. "Same as me?"

Mom looked embarrassed. "No. Charlie's ... doing his ... new things in another place Dr. Taylor knows about. You'll see him later she tells me, don't worry about it. Take smaller bites! Try to be dainty, honey!"

Changing the subject? Big mystery? "OK," I said cheerily.

As I left the house to walk the short distance to their door, she handed me a purse. "No girl ever goes out without one," she cautioned me. "You never know. Your tampons and your house keys are in there in case you come home late, and there's make-up in there too. Don't try to use it yet without someone helping you, but get used to always having some with you. A girl needs to feel confident about her appearance."

"Yes ma'am," I replied. What else was there to say?

"Make us proud, Samantha!" And she hugged me harder than I could remember. "Remember to tell Dr. Taylor about the Premarin you're using on your tampons -- it's a prescription drug so it may matter. And be the best girl you can be! You do look very nice."

I was moved. She didn't seem to want to leave me -- it was as if she were saying goodbye to me for a long time, maybe even for good. There were tears in her eyes. "Thank you. I will, Mommy," I said. It somehow seemed fitting to say that. "Don't you worry even a teensy bit!"

Good God! 'Mommy'! 'Teensy'! Still, she seemed consoled by those words. I stepped outside. No one visible anywhere, not up or down the street either, praises be. I walked down the sidewalk, feeling my tampon press gently inside my anus and the hem of my dress swish against my legs. I decided to help them by swishing my hips, and that felt even nicer. The sun was shining. I arrived at Jennifer's door much too soon, and rang the bell.

Jennifer answered and stared expressionlessly at me. She didn't recognize me! I smiled, it was a triumph of sorts, I guess! Then suddenly, "Oh yes, you're ... the new girl come to help out. I'll call my mother." She turned and shouted out, "Mom! He's here!" And disappeared,

"She's here, dear!" Dr. Taylor's voice answered from somewhere inside. As if chiding her. "Every day from now on she's a 'she'! And there's no need to announce her. Samantha? I'm in the dining room!"

I took this as an invitation and went in. She was sitting at her dining room table, an empty coffee cup alongside, making notes on a narrow pad. She glanced at me. "The prodigal returns," she said in a neutral voice. "My daughter's rapist." Then she looked me over carefully, top to bottom.

There was no warmth at all in her eyes. I said nothing.

Finally she set down her pen. "I see your mother's trying to spare you humiliation. I'm sorry to say she's succeeded -- you're quite passable, Samantha. A pity, I was hoping you'd look ludicrous, a sissified disgrace to the neighborhood, so I could parade you up and down the street inviting put downs and humiliation." She paused. She seemed to be expecting some kind of response from me.

"Yes'm," I said finally. "I'm sorry, ma'am." I wasn't, of course. This was a triumph of sorts. The more I looked and acted like a normal girl, the more I'd disappoint her. I'd better remember that, I told myself, and decided then and there that I'd go as far as I could, I'd in no way resemble a boy for the next few months. So I let one of my wrists droop, the way the girls in school always did with theirs. And I tightened my throat toward a voice with higher pitches. "I promised my mother I'd try!" I added.

The effort backfired -- she approved. "That's good. I'm glad you're trying. It's a good start, anyway. Now understand this, Samantha. You'll do everything I ask you to do, and whatever Jennifer asks you to do, and whatever it is you'll do it immediately. No delay, no questions. Understood?"

"Yes'm," I said again. And this time I curtsied.

Her eyes narrowed -- was I being insolent? But her expression didn't change. "Go begin clearing up in the kitchen. I'll join you shortly." She returned to her pad and pen.

It was a kitchen pretty much like ours. I loaded their breakfast dishes into the dishwasher -- it was just Jennifer and Dr. Taylor, there was no Mister Dr. Taylor -- and I wiped the counters. Then I hand-scrubbed a pot and a frying pan. This was maid's work, as I'd expected, that was why Mom had laid out this washable dress I was wearing. But it suddenly occurred to me that I could use an apron. I looked around and found one hanging on a hook in the pantry, a little frilly, with bright flowers embroidered on it even though it was meant for serious work, not just for show. So I put it on and considered mopping the floor -- it looked pretty grungy. So I did begin mopping it. A sponge mop on a stick didn't accomplish anything, so I got down on my hands and knees with a stiff-bristled scrub brush. That worked. I could actually make out a pattern in the floor tiles.

"All right, Samantha, let's get you started." Dr. Taylor's voice behind me as I was working away on a hardened spill near the fridge. "Stay just where you are and don't turn around, but hold still for a moment. Now, first I need to record your voice. Do you freely consent to this course of treatment?"

"Yes'm," I said, not daring to move. 'Course of treatment'? What did she mean? But I wasn't supposed to ask. Being treated like a maid, I supposed she meant.

"Good. Now pull your panties down," she ordered. "Please."

So I did. My bare bottom stared at her. For sure she was staring at it.

Suddenly a slender hand reached between my legs and clutched my balls, closed gently on them. I was startled and gave a little jerk, and felt the sharp tips of long fingernails scrape the top of my scrotum. So I held very still. "Maybe I should just take these now," Dr. Taylor mused behind me. "You won't really need them from now on."

I held myself rigid, petrified with fright!

Then, a reprieve! "No, why bother? They'll be shrinking to pebbles anyhow over the next few months. You can decide for yourself what to do with whatever's left."

Her hand let go of my scrotum. I began to breathe again.

"Now, your shots. Understand, you'll probably feel a little nauseous in the morning when you first wake up, maybe for as long as a week. That's natural and normal. But it gets less so, and then not at all as the other changes begin to be noticeable. The whole process will take up most of the summer. When it's completed I'll consider that you've paid your debt and I'll release you from your obligations to me and my daughter, and what you do for the rest of your life will be of no further concern to either of us. Is that understood? Is that acceptable?"

Not exactly, but I wasn't going to say so. "Yes, ma'am."

"So then. You'll feel two different pricks. Don't be surprised by them."

Pricks?! Two different guys are going to rape my ass while I'm bent over? Alarmed, I managed to turn my head slightly. She was leaning down just behind me. On a table next to her was a tray with two different syringes on a towel. Hypodermic needles! What!!?

"Dr. Taylor, what are those...?"

"Hush!"

I felt a sharp stab in my rump. Then almost immediately, another one. The second one took a while. "Hold still," she cautioned me at one point. Then I felt her withdraw the needle.

"There, that's all, it's done!" she said. She sounded grim. "Determined and done!" she sort of repeated, this time sounding almost gleeful. I turned my head all the way around to look at her. Sure enough, she looked triumphant. Deeply satisfied in some strange way.

"May I stand now, ma'am?" I asked, annoyed, also wondering what it was that was done. Puzzled.

"If you wish, Samantha!"

As I stood up I asked her in as polite a voice as I could, considering what had just happened, "What's 'done,' Ma'am? If I may ask?"

"You may ask. What's done is that this summer you'll become a woman. You've consented to it, and your parents have signed the forms, and your own recorded voice has provided all the informed consent anyone might need. It was that or jail, you'll recall, and that's what you chose. What's done is, I've just injected you with enough female hormones to do the whole job, both the kick-start and the time-delay kinds. The process will be accelerated, so whether you go to college next Fall or just go to work, there'll be no question about you by then. By the end of summer you'll go on sustaining doses of estrogen and progestin taken orally, to maintain your complexion and keep your figure ... plumped out. The pills of any standard birth control regimen will serve, I'll write you scrip for them myself if your Mom hasn't introduced you to your family gynecologist by then."

"Gynecologist? A doctor for women?" I knew that much.

"I'm sure your mother uses one, and your sister Beth must have had one. Now you too. To return to your question, that's what's done.

This didn't sound right. "Hormones? What ... ahhh, what kind?"

But she was too pleased with herself to hear me and answer. Still too strangely exulting. "Yes. Sam was a disgrace to his sex! But by the end of the summer Samantha will be a credit to hers! You already are, in some ways. You look quite convincing, dear. Quite authentic!"

I was suddenly reminded of what my mother had told me to tell her. "Dr. Taylor, I'm having my period, my mother says, and she told me to tell you I'm using Premarin to grease my tampons."

She raised her eyebrows. "Premarin? Are you sure? Not KY or the like?"

She sounded more than casually interested. "Yes, ma'am," I replied to all three questions.

"Well!" she said. Then paused. "And how often do you change your tampons, if I may ask?"

"She says I should change a few times a day. Three times so far."

"Already three doses of Premarin administered anally! That yields near-total absorption into the blood stream, you know. My, my! Well, dear, with that and what's in you now you have certainly been kick-started all the way across the room! You'll certainly be feeling nauseous during the next few days, Samantha! And chances are you'll be growing some promising little bumps under your nipples almost immediately. You may end up quite the lady!"

This did not sound good. She paused and seemed to be struggling within herself. "Well, why not?" she said to herself. Then to me, "Samantha, are you listening? From now on use the Premarin cream only once a day -- we don't want to overdo anything. Jennifer will lend you one of the other lubricants she uses in her own vagina and her ... other places she want to insert things now and then. So they'll slip in easily."

She paused, then sat down on a kitchen chair and settled herself to deliver a speech. I stood before her and listened. "Samantha, you're now committed to becoming a girl. During the summer you'll help take care of my house -- though there's very little to do that way. Mainly you'll be ... a kind of companion for Jennifer. Help her get past the trauma you forced on her, you and that rude friend of yours, Charlie. In return, Jennifer will teach you the many things you'll need to know about being a girl, and like it or not I expect you'll find her quite helpful. In the end I'm sure you'll appreciate this summer as a something special in your life, and in future years you may well look back on it and thank us."

"You mean, I'll appreciate learning how girls feel about things, and all?"

"Oh, not just that. I mean you're going to have to learn how to be a girl at first hand. How to deal with all the kinds of problems girls face, how to develop the right attitudes, how to enjoy your new life. So there'll be no regrets."

What she was saying made sense, from her point of view. But there was something out of plumb in the way she was saying it. In those references to my 'new life.' "You mean, so I won't mind being a girl for the summer," I said, looking for clarification.

"So you won't mind being a girl, period," Dr. Taylor replied. "Those shots work fairly quickly. By the end of the summer they'll have done all they need to do."

"Then by the end of the summer I'll get my life back?" I asked. What was she saying?

She was looking at me, a little puzzled. "That's another kind of choice, Samantha! This one's been made for you by Sam. Be a girl or serve out a five year jail term! And you'd have served it all, young ... man, if that's who I'm addressing! All five years! No parole. Trust me, I know!"

I saw determination in her eyes. Her lips tightened. "Samantha," she said more quietly. "Sit down. Let's be perfectly clear!"

I sat opposite her at the breakfast table. My bottom reminded me of the shots she'd just injected there.

"What you did -- what Sam did -- was unthinkable, horrible, a girl's worst nightmare, and not to be tolerated! I see many such instances in the course of my work. All sorts of girls have had their lives ruined by such flagrant exhibitions of male macho backed by sheer muscular force. It was quite impossible for Sam to continue to live in this neighborhood thinking that my daughter Jennifer was just one more of his conquests. That would have been much too humiliating for her and for me too! Sam had to be taught a lesson, the kind that lasts a lifetime, and his friend Charlie too. My daughter had to be protected, and even apart from issues of retribution the world had to be protected from him. Sam had to be altogether reformed."

Now her face had grown quite hard.

"Jails are where we send people to protect ourselves from them and maybe reform them. But I'm not a cruel person, Samantha. I know what jails are like for ripe boys who've had a decent upbringing and can't even begin to cope with really street-tough criminals. Boys like you. What you did to my daughter would have been done to you daily if you'd chosen jail. You'd have become a prize bitch, a whore rented out by whatever pimp happened to be running your cell block. In the end, giving and getting sex in and out of every one of your body openings would have been the way you'd spend your days. As natural to you as breathing. You'd have emerged from jail a very different person. Sickened by every STDs known to us, your manhood gone and long forgotten, and your anus so well fitted for fucking you'd have forgotten its original purpose."

She paused to make sure I was listening. I was, appalled, almost unbelieving. But I believed. I'd heard it was like that. My folks had spoken about jail being like that.

"I've known your mother for years, and that's why I offered you a better choice. A nicer, gentler way to ... compromise your manhood and learn to respect womanhood. Your parents discussed the options with you, and you made your choice. Any return to your previous irresponsible manhood-as-usual was never a tolerable option. It certainly isn't now."

She leaned toward me, intent that I should miss nothing. "Starting now, you're Samantha. By the end of the summer you'll be so thoroughly ... Samantha that I can't imagine you'll want to be anyone else, though that'll be entirely up to you. Look at you! Less than one day and you're already a pleasantly attractive girl! Imagine how you'll look when you've developed your breasts and a girl's shapeliness, when your face is softer and your expression more yielding, when all of the usual female secondary sex characteristics are present and accounted for. By the end of the summer your penis and testicles may well feel irrelevant. They may well be irrelevant. That's when you'll think about going the rest of the way, making a space between your legs similar to the one you ... failed to respect between Jennifer's. But that'll be entirely as you see fit, and what you've found fits."

She smiled as if that last statement was a joke. She wanted this one summer's punishment to last forever? No way! "When this summer ends, my pretending I'm a girl also ends?" I asked, so I'd be quite clear about it. Just to be sure, given how she was talking.

"I'd say so. Physically, yes, except for that one last adjustment." She looked around, picked up her purse from a cubby where she'd left it, and turned toward the door. "Your psychological adjustment may not be complete by the end of the summer -- being a girl may still feel like pretending to you. So I'd suggest that starting now you think of yourself as a girl for life. It'll make the pretending easier. You'll need to know all the attitudes appropriate to being a girl full time and forever, if you're to habituate yourself this summer. Jennifer's agreed to help you. You'll find that women's ways aren't inferior to men's, but many of them are different and require different management. I'm sure you'll be grateful to Jennifer for whatever she chooses to teach you. Especially considering the way you've treated her."

She paused. She's arranged for me to live as a girl all summer, and actually thinks I'll keep going as a girl afterward on my own? Incredible! "You really expect me to remain a girl for life?" I asked her.

"What you do after the summer is no concern of mine," Dr. Taylor said. "I'll have done my part, and Jennifer hers. Some things we can undo, others we can't. We all make our own beds, and you'll make your own decisions."

That was supposed to be reassuring?

"Meanwhile, I expect to see you here when I return this evening -- instructions for cooking dinner are posted on the fridge. Your mother has told me that she's willing to help, so call her if there's anything you don't understand."

I decided I'd better return to being dutiful. "Yes'm," I replied. And gave a quick bob that pretended to be a curtsy.

She didn't trouble to notice. "Good luck, Samantha. You have a lot to absorb and think through. Take it as you will, but call yourself lucky. You've gotten off very lightly. As a woman, I'd say you've come out way ahead! Go see if Jennifer can offer any help."

She turned and left. I stood there staring at the space where she'd been. Empty space. My future for the next three months. Three months spent pretending to be a girl?

Hey, I could get through it!

I understood now why my mother had been playing with me like some kind of doll she'd been given unexpectedly, a kind of second Beth. She'd been trying to ease me into an altogether different life, kind of like Beth's sister. Well, I can go with that, I was thinking. It's only three months.

'Three months? We'll see about that!' a rebellious, sullen voice suddenly said in my head. The same boy's voice I'd heard when my mother first told me what Dr. Taylor had proposed. But a higher-pitched voice in my head answered abruptly, 'You'll see nothing! Live with it!' I hadn't heard much from that second voice, not yet, though it was clearly the more sensible of the two.

I glanced around the kitchen. Neat enough. The floor was certainly clean! I looked at the menu on the fridge. A roast and baked potatoes, no problem, I'd done both things with my Mom until a few years back when I'd decided cooking was girls' work. Just push garlic cloves into the meat, oil everything, put everything into the oven, 350 degrees. Cut up a salad. Easy. But not till this afternoon. Time now to see how Jennifer was taking this ... my change in my status. To get it over with and see where we stood.

Feeling resentful, but also wary, I took off my apron and hung it up and went upstairs and walked down the hall toward Jennifer's room. The same room I'd been in with Charlie, just last week, when I'd decided that Jennifer was too snotty and needed taking down, so as soon as she started teasing us we'd both screwed her. On her own bed. That'd taught her a lesson!

I'd thought. Until yesterday. Now we were learning our lessons.
 
 
iv.
 
I knocked, expecting to hear furious shouting, maybe hysterical screaming when I identified myself as "Samantha." And when she opened the door and saw me I expected at least to be pounded by her fists.

Instead, when the door flew open, there stood a Jennifer who was delighted to see me! Arms open and welcoming, a huge smile lighting up her face. I was taken aback.

"Samantha!" she said enthusiastically. "I love your hair! And what a wonderful dress, so simple yet so elegant with those gathered ruffles. Wherever did you find it?"

"In my sister Beth's closet," I said. I didn't know what else to say.

"She gave you all of her younger-girl things? You must be thrilled! I've always wished I had a sister! And now I've got one!"

I stayed silent. What game was she playing?

"We're friends now, aren't we, Samantha? Sort of like sisters?"

So that was the deal. Well, whatever she said, I'd agree. "Yes, of course," I said "Friends. Sisters." I got one message loud and clear, anyhow. No matter how friendly we got, forget about sex. Sisters don't fuck each other.

"Well, you must be thrilled to inherit such a wonderful wardrobe! I know, all this must be a little overwhelming for you. But don't worry, I'll help you find your own style with each of your different outfits so you'll blend in and yet stand out in your own way, the way all girls want to do. Anyhow, you look very nice. Very pretty.

"Thank you," I said. For once I didn't curtsy.

She was looking directly into my face now. Her own was fully made up for the day. Eyeliner, mascara, shadow, lipstick, blush, the lot. A bit over the top? No, I had to admit it, that was how she looked all the time. In school, and even mores when she dressed for a date, I'd seen that too. Like all girls our age, she celebrated her girlhood by taking full advantage of it, going to whatever outer limit her mother allowed.

She saw I was studying her and immediately knew why. "I'll help you with your make-up too," she said. "I see you've got permanent shadow and lip color. That's minimal, quite enough for normal circumstances, I suppose. But a teenage girl has to wear a lot more goop than that." She smiled a secret smile. "Because we're young and it's all new and marvelous and we want boys to think we're all beautiful and available. They'll think it anyhow, because that's what guys like to think about us anyhow. So at all times we need to look mysterious and desirable and ... well, you know, hot! Because you never do know who's noticing, what hot guy is coming toward you and is already just around the corner! So with his first sight of you, you hit him hard! Make him feel privileges, if you should happen to smile at him." She looked at me as if I too shared her dream of attracting a handsome, brawny man and getting him to .... Jesus, to what? Suddenly she shifted gears. "You must be especially pleased by your new hair color, Samantha. And those darling curls."

Enough. I spoke abruptly. "Jennifer, why'd you do this to me?"

She understood immediately, and looked mischievous. "Because I knew I could." And smiled at me as if expecting me to share her in her triumph. A real girlfriend would, I suppose.

I just stared. I hadn't expected that answer.

Delighted with herself, she continued. "Samantha, we're girlfriends now so I'll speak frankly. No secrets. When you were Sam you were always on such a high horse! All sorts of girls throwing themselves at you and you bothered with me only in between all the others, and only because I was handy. I was that girl down the street, so I filled in only when you were bored. Then when you condescended to make your moves on me, I didn't put out the way you expected. I wasn't so grateful for your attention that all you had to do was look at me and I'd lay myself down and spread my legs. Well, I've always thought you could be a real friend, that you had real possibilities if only you were less full of yourself. So when we were each of us in our back yards catching some rays, I invited you up here to do some of the kinds of things friends do, you and your buddy Charlie. And that gave me an idea. And ... well, that idea just grew until there it all was, fully developed, and it was so easy to make it work! I mean, I fed you the cues and you two cooperated as if we'd rehearsed the whole scene for weeks!"

I just stared at her some more.

"You'd better come in and sit down, girlfriend," she said quietly. I did, flopping onto a small chair alongside her make-up table. "It doesn't matter now, get in the habit. Smooth your skirt under your bottom whenever you sit, honey. We all do it without thinking. Like this!" She demonstrated. I rose and did it, then sat down again. I was getting impatient.

"You see, we've got these security cameras all over the house, my Mom and me, you know, we're two helpless women living here all alone in this big bad world and all. They're on mostly, but they're always off when we really want them off. When they'd be violating our privacy, and we do respect each other's privacy. I mean Mom has her life here sometimes with ... guys she works with, doctors and lawyers and so on, very nice, very considerate men, though sometimes also the odd roughneck for when she wants to feel taken like an animal, really reamed out and left screaming, that's how she once explained it to me, anyhow, during one of our mother-daughter talks about sex. And there are kinds of boys I invite up here too, different kinds. A few times we've found we've each asked our guys up here at the same time. Well, when the cameras are off we know to stay out of each other's way till maybe breakfast the next morning. That's when her guys and mine sometimes meet each other for the first time, and that can be such fun! Then too, some of hers are married, and their wives think they're out of town and don't know they're spending the night here, so we both have to be ... discreet. My boyfriends too. Some of them have steady girlfriends, but think I'm more exciting."

I interrupted. "You have guys up here? And they spend the night with you? And your mother knows all about it?" I was astonished. This is the girl I thought didn't put out?

Jennifer looked me over with mock pity. "Oh, Samantha, you're such an innocent! I went on the pill years ago! And no, she doesn't know all about everything! Not all! We're private about lots of things! I just told you, that's why we turn off the cameras!"

She wasn't the shy girl I'd always assumed? The girl I always saw off in the corner of the lunch room with only a few friends?

"You never dated anyone at our high school," I said. "I'd know!"

"I know you'd know. You knew who all the fast girls were, and dated all of them, and a lot of the others too. But a girl has to protect her reputation. So I went through the best of the available boys at the other two high schools in town, and college boys during vacation times, and sometimes older men too. But I always avoided the boys in our own school in order to hold down talk about me."

"I know guys at those other schools. They'd have told me if they'd fucked you!"

She smiled contentedly. "I know. Guys talk a lot more than girls do. The more girls they claim to fuck, the more of a man they seem, while with girls, the more boys, the more sluttish they seem. So with guys, yata yata yata. But not with the videos I've got of them doing ... some of the things I make all of my boys do before I'll let them fuck me. They don't want those kinds of things known, what a boy'll do for a girl when he's really hard up! You can get a guy to do anything, believe me! Suck cock if there's one around, or a dildo if there isn't. Eat shit fresh out of your ass. Wear a bra and take hormones -- but you already know all about that! Samantha honey, have you forgotten? We were just this minute talking about the security cameras my mother has installed in every room of this house. That's how come I have that video of you cruelly raping me against my will and then while I'm sobbing away, Charlie taking sloppy seconds."

Jesus! I was way out of my league with this girl! "I guess." I realized I'd better act more humble. This chick was dangerous!

"I asked you up here to look at something, remember? My biology notes was it? And I left the camera on. And you arrived with Charlie and then all it took was a little acting. I mean all I had to do was lay back and look at you with bedroom eyes, and when you saw me quivering with this really amazing need for you to fuck me, you took advantage of it. I bet you didn't hear how I was crying out 'No! No!' over and over!' Or if you did you probably thought I was only expressing disbelief at how great your cock felt. Isn't that so?"

That idea had crossed my mind while I was fucking her, but I wasn't about to admit it!

"I mean, no guy ever knows what 'No' really means. Lots of girls say 'No,' with a kind of moan and catch in their throat so their guy knows it's a surrender despite their desire to remain virtuous, they're simply overwhelmed by him, he's so great. Get him thinking so, and he'll try harder to make you feel good, most girls know that trick. Or, we say 'No,' meaning 'Yes,' to let him know we aren't really sluts, even if we are. That gives the guy the extra pleasure of thinking it's a conquest brought on by their irresistible virile masculinity, not because the girl wants to get laid by whatever the nearest cock. We all get lots of practice that way. I bet you never even noticed how when I orgasmed my moaning sounded terrified. And as for my screams when you were building me toward a second orgasm -- well, a scream's a scream isn't it!"

I sat silent. This Jennifer was something else. How did I ever think she was an innocent? I decided to play the part I'd promised to play. I'd be her dutiful, helpful girlfriend, and she'd teach me how to be good at it.

"The girls you've fucked have always thought it was worth while, allowing you that little extra privilege. We talk among ourselves too, you know. 'He'd got a decent enough cock,' they'd say. 'Long enough, and it won't stretch you so wide that your regular boyfriend notices.' But your main attraction is what you'll do afterward, you're so pleased to have gotten your rocks off. Even stick your tongue up a girl's ass! That's what I'd heard about you. I wanted to see if it was true."

I remembered what had happened after I'd fucked her and then Charlie'd fucked her, and then Charlie'd gone on to his job at Burger King while I stayed behind to make sure she was all right about everything, she wasn't going to make our little interlude into something it wasn't. She'd gotten a little commanding, even imperious. So I'd tried to please her and kiss her ass the way she'd insisted and .... Well, I guess it was true.

"Samantha, when you were Sam I didn't want you going around telling everyone you'd laid me, and Charlie had stuck his thing into me too -- his is way bigger than yours, incidentally -- did you know that? That I was only one more notch carved into your dicks. I've got a boyfriend right now and I didn't want him feeling jealous. So while you were still fucking me and I was crying out my terrified 'No!' noises, the whole time I was thinking about my real boyfriend and wondering if I had to deal with Charlie too before I got you to stick your tongue up my ass. That was when it occurred to me that the best way to quiet you down and cover the whole thing up was to call this a rape and then make you my girlfriend. Great! That idea seemed so perfect! If you didn't go for it, you'd be a convicted criminal and out of the way and who'd believe you? I'd be your terrified victim and a heroine, sort of. If you bought it, we'd be two girls together, that's all, nothing for anyone else to talk about, nothing for a boyfriend to get jealous about. Your tongue up my ass the whole time, so to speak. And you live practically next door, so what could be more convenient? So I showed my Mom the security tape from your visit here with me, you and Charlie. And here you are, girlfriend! And here you'll be!"

She was right. I thought I'd fucked her, but she'd sure as hell fucked me! "Till the end of the summer," I reminded her. "Then I'm a boy again."

"Oh? I don't think so, sweetie," she said. She'd been sitting on her bed. Now she stretched herself out on it and lay back on her pillow and preened herself, her whole body, her eyes closed. I felt a stirring in my pants. My panties I suppose they were.

"That's what your Mom said," I unformed her, now a little less sure of it. "End of summer I decide for myself if I stay a girl or not. I already know not."

"Oh, Samantha, you still don't know, do you? Haven't accepted it yet, have you?"

I just stared at her. Then, "Know what? What can she do, hypnotize me to stay a girl forever?" Jennifer was only being contrary.

"Well, yes, she could, but no, she won't. Because she did that with my Dad and then regretted it even though as it turned out she did him a favor."

I kept staring at her, uncomprehending. These people were so far ahead of me they were out of sight.

"When I was still a baby they separated, and he began demanding custody of me. She thought the courts might go with him, because she'd ... well, she'd been seeing a lot of other men all though their marriage and he had plenty of evidence that she was an unfit mother and all that, you know, the usual stuff they claim against women who happen to like more sex than their partners can provide. Well, she'd once hypnotized him to help him stop smoking, with a post-hypnotic cue to reinforce it, so she put him back into the same state of mind. Then she hypnotized him a few more times. Persuaded him he was really a girl, and gave him shots to change his body to a girl's, and that was the proof. Same shots as yours. Then when the shots had done their work she persuaded him that his cock and balls were no use to anyone but that guys would fall all over him if he had a pussy. And she persuaded him to want guys to fall all over him."

"She could do that?" I was appalled! What had I gotten myself into here?

"She could. She did. He got himself a vagina and you'd never guess it, Mom certainly didn't expect anything like it, but... well, he's never been happier! She must have uncorked some secret desire of his. You really want to hear the rest of it?"

I had to. This was already way out of my league. But how far? I nodded.

"Well, he got his SRS, then cosmetic surgery, then did a stint as a call girl. He said he wanted to give his new pussy a really severe workout under all sorts of conditions, get used to using it the way he'd loved using my Mom's when he was a man. He also found he loved having all those other men come after him instead of the other way around. Then when he got himself a great body to go with his cunt he thought it was a waste not to show it. So now he does pole dancing and lap dancing and bartending at a bar he owns with his partner, who happens to be a guy my Mom used to screw who now screws him. His partner has no idea who he once was, of course. He takes on other guys too now and then -- no reason a guy shouldn't use his cunt to spread pleasure around, once he's got the real thing. Or his ass if he hasn't. Either way my Dad's doing just fine."

'My God!' That was all I could think. Though Jennifer didn't seem the least troubled.

"But Mom wasn't happy. She realized that what she'd done had violated her oath as a doctor. It wasn't ethical. So she decided that if she ever feminizes anyone else it has to be with that person's full consent. She didn't think you'd be a problem when she first heard what you and Charlie had done to me. Or what it sounded like you were doing. And you haven't been."

This didn't sound good. "What do you mean?"

"You gave your consent. It's recorded on our security tapes. And didn't you hear what she said after she gave you those shots in your behind? The same girl-making super-cocktail she gave Dad. The difference is, when she gave Dad his girl juice he was hypnotized to crave it, so she made him beg. Then to prove he was sincere and worthy of his girlhood she made him do some of the unmentionable things with strange men he got to like doing only a year or so later. Then she gave him his shots. You're really lucky, Samantha, you got the full treatment with no hassle at all! In a week you'll start filling in that bra you're wearing, and in a month you'll be desperate for boys to come heft and stroke and suck on your brand new breasts! You'll love having them same as we do!"

I thought I saw a flaw in her prediction. "Why boys? Why not girls?"

"Sammy, think! Who's more likely to want to do those things, feel pleased to do them, honored to be allowed to do them, boys or girls? Boys of course! And there are lots of boys in the world! So by the end of the summer you won't want to go back. Not even if you could. No way!"

This sounded bad. Ominous. Maybe she's wrong, I was thinking. So I asked her, "How do you know what kinds of shots your Mom gave me? I only remember her saying this was for the summer, that I have to pretend to be a girl for the summer but then I'll be free to be a boy again if I want."

"Our security cameras, silly! I was watching you two in the kitchen. You weren't really listening to her I guess. And you certainly aren't thinking about those shots she put into your pretty behind. Those hormones are all through your body by now, triggering all the right receptors and blockers and so on so from now on you'll produce a lot of your own girl hormones, at least until your menopause in thirty or forty years. She told you what they'd do. She said that during the summer you'll grow a girl's body except for a pussy, and that then you may well decide to get one because by the end of the summer you'll be a girl in all respects except that, and having a pussy does have advantages."

She stretched herself out on her bed luxuriously, her shaded eyelids shut. Not even bothering to watch me. "Ask me about it. I know!"

She had to be wrong! There had to be a mistake somewhere! I told her that!

She only replied, "Samantha, get used to it! You aren't a pretend girl until the summer ends. You're an apprentice girl learning how to be a real one for life! No one can undo those hormone injections. Your tits are growing and your balls are shrinking even as we speak. Here, let me play you the whole tape!"

She pushed some buttons on her remote. It was like Tivo! There I was, scrubbing the kitchen floor, as seen from a corner of the room. And there was Dr. Taylor entering the kitchen with her tray of carefully prepared syringes. And there she was telling me how my balls would soon shrink to insignificance, explaining how I should get used to being a girl for life, how jail was way worse. How Jennifer would make it all easier for me, not to worry.

I was near despair when the replay ended.

Jennifer saw. I was looking in every direction desperately, finding no help. "Time for me to kiss my new girlfriend and make her feel all better," she said. "Come here, baby!"

She opened her arms wide and I instinctively moved into them, lay alongside her on the bed. And she hugged me. We hugged. She lay back and pulled me onto her and we hugged some more. And kissed. And next thing I knew I was inside her and we were fucking and humping, on and on, ferociously, over and over, like goats! Then both of us were cumming like mad all over each other! Well, she was all over me and I was deep inside her. My God! As I pumped sperm into her pussy my asshole clamped down repeatedly on my tampon, as if I were also cumming the way she was, on a cock stuck deep into my pulsating vagina! That tampon added further joy -- was that what a dick in my ass would feel like when I came? Would I want a dick in there from now on, whenever I came? It might be ... grand!

I tried to thrust that ugly thought away!

"See? It isn't so bad being my friend, is it?" Jennifer now crooned in my ear as we both recovered our breathing. Her hand was now on one of my nipples. "Every day these will get bigger and bigger and feel better and better," she said. She stroked it and my little breast tip grew hard under her fingertip. It did feel good. "And my pussy's yours now whenever you want it. As long as your erections last. Which in all honesty won't be that long -- I suggest we do this as often as possible while we still can. Why don't you suck me clean while we wait for you to get it up again?"

I don't know what came over me, but I still felt an erotic glow, so I went down on her and did just that. And I've got to say, we tasted delicious! "I knew just you'd love it," she crooned as my face pushed deep into her crotch and she wriggled so my tongue could reach its furthest crevices. "Boy cum tastes so nice. I sometimes think I'm doing guys a favor when I insist they clean me out afterward."

And that was how the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon went by. I decided I would deal with this predicament one day at a time, as my mother had advised, and that today wasn't too bad. Making out that I was a girl did have advantages -- I was getting more pussy in one afternoon than in any one week of my whole life. Or any one month, if we added in the cunt-licking!

By mid-afternoon all Jennifer had to do was plant her bottom on the edge of the bed after I'd cum in her yet again, and I'd fall to my knees between her knees and press my face into her crotch, and sip and suck and lick. Or else I'd lie on her bed and she'd mount my groin, or my chest, and slide forward. By late afternoon her slit was as familiar to me as my own face. My own new face I have to say -- in between bouts of fucking and licking, Jennifer would wipe it clean of her pussy juice and then teach me yet another trick with make-up. First with her own make-up, then with the make-up my Mom had put into my purse. Only when I'd done it swiftly and perfectly, whatever it was she'd wanted me to learn, did she lie back and invite me to sink myself into her yet again.

"Women put on make-up almost without thinking," she said. "In order to look sexually desirable. I want you to make yourself look this gorgeous mindlessly." Toward the end I hardly thought about it at all as I rose from between her thighs, wiped my genitals or my face, and paused to refresh my look.

By mid-afternoon I felt proud of my new skill. Blending eyeshadow was more fun than repairing a bike, by far, I was thinking, and that's all I'd be doing if I weren't here. Jennifer made me do my eyes over and over until finally she was satisfied. Liner, mascara, three different shades of shadow, accents, there was no end to it. "Your eyes are the windows to your soul," she'd commented, amused to see how deft I was getting. "That's why you need to trick them out to give everyone the impression you have a beautiful soul. Then you can peek at everyone else's souls but no one can look in and see who you really are."

Finally my prick just dangled there between my legs, exhausted. "Time to shower, then maybe you should start the roast for dinner," Jennifer whispered eventually as she came down from yet one more climax. "Set three places for dinner, and then I'll show you how to make yourself look super pretty for when my Mom comes home. She'll be so pleased with your progress! You're practically a member of our family now."

I almost forgot, as I was slipping back into my panties and making a note to bring a spare pair over tomorrow, I almost forgot that it was time to change my tampon. I got out my purse and tugged out the old and whisked in the new one almost without thinking. As her mother had suggested, I asked Jennifer for a lubricant other than Premarin. She loaned me some of the KY she usually used, she said, when a boy wanted her ass right off, even before he'd wet his dick in her pussy or her mouth.

This was the girl I'd "raped"? I suspected she was doing this with her mother's help mainly because her mother had done something similar with her father and it looked like fun. Maybe making a woman out of a man was what all the women in her family did, as a kind of rite of passage? I didn't want to know. I put my make-up on extra-heavy for the evening, for Dr. Taylor's return.

Dr. Taylor was altogether satisfied when she saw me. She practically beamed as she came through the door. She then went immediately into her study, but when we called her to the table she appeared right away, smiling at both of us. I brought in the food, and both women congratulated me on my roast -- I explained that the garlic in slits all over it was something my Mom did. Dr. Taylor -- she still expected me to address her as "ma'am" -- asked how our day had gone, and we both looked down for a moment, then told her some of it. I think she could tell the rest -- our cheeks were still flushed. You can always tell when a girl's fucked out. We certainly were.

I reviewed yet again why it was she wasn't in the slightest offended. Why it was I was sitting here being a girl, if fucking her daughter was a crime that required jail or a penitential change of gender? The answers now seemed obvious. Because this was what her daughter wanted. Because a compliant girlfriend who lives next door was better than an wise-assed, arrogant boy. Because making a girl out of a boy is fun, though maybe a little less exciting than making a lap dancer out of a husband. Because she had those security tapes of me 'raping' Jennifer, so she had me by the balls while I still had balls, so why not?

Any which way I was screwed.

Dessert was just sliced fruit -- I told them that in the future I'd think about baking something with my Mom and bringing it over. But while we were nibbling away, Dr. Taylor said casually to Jennifer, "I heard from Terry just before I left the office. Charlie's coming along fine, faster even than Samantha. He's doing everything they ask him to do, and enjoying it as far as they can tell. They think maybe he was born that way but never figured it out because he's not too bright."

"Wonderful!" Jennifer replied. "So he won't be forcing himself on women again either?"

"Not on women, not ever again," Dr. Taylor replied. "They intend to release him tomorrow. Maybe you should call your friend Leslie and arrange some kind of fun outing for the four of you?"

I was sorry to overhear that exchange. Charlie'd been a loyal buddy, even if he wasn't the brightest star in the sky. I felt partly responsible. It was my sloppy seconds that had gotten him into this mess. Now this 'Terry' and some anonymous 'they' had made him even more of a girl than I was? More effeminate, more feminine? Charlie? Charlie was a big guy. Beefy even. He'd never manage to look like a real girl! He didn't have the body or the talent! Nothing like mine!

I immediately squashed the twinge of pride that thought gave me.

"Sure, Mom," Jennifer said. "I think Samantha'd love to get out of the house tomorrow for a while, maybe party a little. Wouldn't you, honey?"

I nodded. How could I say 'No'? I owed Charlie something, I guess. They'd get us together tomorrow, and we'd see each other? Two former buddies now both in dresses and lipstick? It'd be humiliating for both of us. Shameful. I supposed that was what they wanted.

But maybe not too shameful. It was odd. Much of the afternoon Jenn had been urging me to feel proud of the way I look, my new skill with make-up, and so on. And I did, a little. Holly had already plucked my eyebrows, for example, but that afternoon on impulse I'd reduced them to a fine, penciled line that gave my face a much more delicate appearance. I looked forward to my Mom seeing me tonight now that I understood how to make up my face properly -- I knew she'd approve. Really, why should I feel ashamed? No one who didn't know me would ever guess what I had been. How far from manhood I'd fallen. But look how far into girlhood I'd risen! With Jennifer and her friend Leslie and a feminized Charlie alongside we'd look like four teenage girls out on the town, one of them a fat girl and the others sort of cute. No worse. No big deal.

Or maybe four teenage girls on the prowl? I'd better get it established right off that I don't do guys, I decided. Not even if they send me to jail? That stopped me. If I went to jail I'd certainly do guys, my folks and Dr. Taylor had made that crystal clear. So I undecided again. Maybe I'd have to do something with a guy. But as little as possible! I felt helpless.

"Dinner at TGIF and then a movie?" Jennifer was asking herself aloud. "Maybe dancing afterward? I don't know if Les'll want to dance with Samantha's kind of girl -- well, maybe I just won't explain anything!" She grinned to herself, and without my further assent it was done.

"Samantha," she turned and said to me. "I'll come over tomorrow morning and we'll look through your clothes and see what you need. Your Mom probably hasn't a clue what girls our age are wearing these days. And your sister Beth wasn't much of a flirt, so she may not have left you any really provocative clothes, and you'll need some. Though come to think of it, you don't have a really provocative body yet, so we may be getting a little ahead of ourselves. Anyhow, we'll try a little shopping therapy to put us in the right mood for afterward."

Her mother agreed. I had no choice but to nod also, and look agreeable.
 
 
v.
 
When I got home, Mom and Dad were both waiting up.

"Samantha!" Mom cried out. "You're gorgeous!" She was genuinely surprised. And impressed! That gratified me more than anything else. I'd worked hard to create that response in her.

Dad just set down his paper and stared at me without expression.

"Thank you, Mommy," I said without self-consciousness. "I did learn a lot today." I recalled how I'd learned some of it. Lying on my back for example, with Jennifer mounted on me and holding up a mirror so I could put my lipstick on yet again, then squirming on my dick when I finally got it right, then wiping the lipstick off with her cunt so we could do it again. "It was a lot of fun!" I added. It had been.

"I'm glad for you that you're enjoying this," my Dad said. "Just keep doing what you're told, and we'll hope it's all for the best."

"Yes, sir," I replied. He seemed to need reassurance. "I'm sure it is, Daddy."

He did smile weakly at that, and then returned to his paper. This was something best left to us girls. Mom motioned me into the kitchen and then asked me quietly if I'd changed my tampon. I assured her I had, and told her Dr. Taylor had advised only one application of Premarin a day so I wouldn't overdose.

"Oh? She put you on pills too?" Mom asked.

"No, she injected me," I said.

Mom understood immediately. "Long term?" she asked.

I nodded. That was what I understood.

She suddenly reached out and hugged me. "Then I have the second daughter I've prayed for," she said. "Sam was such a trial! You're ... you're so much nicer!" She sounded tearful.

"I'm so glad for you, Mommy," I responded, hugging her as tightly, feeling good that I'd made her happier somehow, though a little sorry for Sam. For a few minutes more the two of us clung together. Then we went upstairs, and I told her how the day had gone, some of it anyhow, and what was planned for tomorrow. She helped me lay out clothes she thought suitable for shopping and for a night out with 'the girls.' "You'll enjoy lots of those, looking the way you do," she reassured me. "We're always looking for occasions to dress up. Men just don't understand."

The next day went as Jennifer had planned it. In the morning she came over and we went through Beth's closet so she could estimate what I lacked. "Low rider pants, I'd say," she declared. "Your hips and navel and belly aren't much to look at yet, but they'll be assets by the end of the summer. A few tight skirts and tight satin blouses, for you-know-what." I tried not to guess for what, and failed. "And sexy lingerie -- how can you feel sexy if you don't dress sexy?"

"It was easy enough yesterday," I commented.

She just looked at me and said nothing. I realized slowly that it was easy because even though I'd been doing girly things with Jennifer, I'd been feeling sexy and fucking her like a man. I wondered aloud if there was any other way to fuck her. Again she just looked at me, but this time with a knowing smile. I apparently had things to learn about how women fuck each other, and she meant to teach me.

Then we shopped at our city's two big department stores, and a few of the mall stores between them. I got my ears pierced and immediately started wearing large danglers, very light weight so as not to stretch my lobes but unmistakable in their message -- that I was a confident, forthright girl, proud of my femininity, almost brassy. So I tried to be. I soon got accustomed to feeling those earrings bounce against my neck whenever I shook my head. Almost immediately, boys who were passing us in the mall also got the message. They kept trying to catch and hold our eyes, and when I unthinkingly allowed one to do so he stopped us and started to chat us up. Jennifer had to be a little rude to get rid of him. I listened closely -- some day I might also need to brush someone off. Then laughed at myself. Some day? Might? That day was today!

The food court was crowded. We sat at a small table to nibble on our snack lunch -- we were both of us watching our weight -- and two other girls our age asked to join us. So we said "Sure!" -- me much more hesitantly than Jennifer, because I didn't want anyone looking at me close up. The talk was about boys, and what you have to do to get them excited, and then to keep them interested without putting out too much.

God, those two girls sounded like professional whores! Did all girls know so much? I thought I'd been around!

Jennifer contributed her share, but I had little to say about sucking cock or damping down a dick if it was too close to climaxing, or always leaving a guy wanting more. Jennifer explained that I'd just been a kind of equal opportunity girl friend and had just broken up with a really big guy, a black guy who was gentle enough but had stretched me so big I was practically ruined for almost any other man, for the time being, anyhow. They looked at me with mixed envy and pity, and when they left, each kissed me softly on the cheek, assuring me that there were lots of good lays left in the world, not to despair, and meanwhile just make extra-special use of my back door. I wondered if I'd just had a glimpse into the secret lives of all girls. I didn't know whether to hope so or hope not.

We were back at Jennifer's house by 3:00 pm, and by 5:00 pm we'd readied ourselves for the evening. I was turning this way and that in the mirror, checking out my short black skirt and red satin blouse and red high-heeled shoes, trying to get used to my look, and I was wondering if I'd overdone my make-up -- Jennifer'd told me to 'lard it on'-- when the doorbell chimed.

"Would you get it, Samantha," Jennifer shouted to me. "I've got one last curler to cope with! You're so lucky your hair curls naturally!"

It once didn't, but it certainly does now, and it's certainly flattering, I was thinking as I opened the door. I expected to see either a fake or a real girl, either Charlie or Jennifer's friend Leslie. But there was neither -- it was a guy. Not an ordinary guy but a hefty looking one wearing a muscle shirt and tight leather pants and leaning slightly forward. He had a small anchor tattooed on one swelled biceps. His head was shaved, so I didn't recognize him at first.

Then I did recognize him. He resembled Charlie. My old buddy Charlie! Now no way a girl, more like a longshoreman! But wearing a pale lipstick! More like ... yes! There was this GLBT club at school where all the fairies hung out with all the dykes, and ... my God! some of them looked like what Charlie looked like now! Neither a fairy nor a dyke but an effeminate motorcycle jock!

My mind lurched, then understood. While I was being turned into a girl, Charlie was being turned queer.

Maybe that wasn't too difficult in Charlie's case. He was impressionable and not too bright -- that's how come he always hung with me and did what I did. Like 'rape' Jennifer because he'd seen me do it.

Was he bisexual? He'd once told me he envied a girl who was dating one of the guys on the wrestling team, and when I told him he meant he envied the guy, he hadn't replied. What was it Dr. Taylor had said someone said, that he might have been born gay but just not figured it out?

I suddenly saw the plot plain enough, what Dr. Taylor had hatched. Jennifer would soon be safe from both of us rapists. I'd be impotent and Charlie uninterested. This was all her doing. Not that Jennifer wasn't implicated!

All this left me speechless, and meanwhile this buff guy in leather grinned a personable, crooked grin at me. A real guy-to-guy come-on. And thrust his pelvis suggestively forward, just slightly. "Hi, Sam!" he said. "You look good enough to eat! They told me you'd gone girlie -- good for you! Better and better!" He grabbed his crotch, then grinned at me again!

What in hell did he think he was doing? "Come on in, Charlie," I said a little primly. He did. Standing there precariously in my high heels, I couldn't back away as quickly as I wanted, only one step back. Too late, he was on me. Seized me around the waist. "God!" he whispered to me. "Sam, if I didn't know you were a guy I'd swear you were a girl! I can't wait!"

He was coming on to me like a summer storm!

"Well, you'd better wait!" I told him, twisting my hips to free them from his hands. "Behave!"

I tried to sound severe, to deliver an earnest warning to stay away -- he might be queer, but I wasn't! But it only came out cute -- my distaste expressed itself as a grimace he took to be a smile, I realized, and my wriggling hips likely gave him the impression that I was as eager as he was. For what? I didn't want to think about it!

Finally I managed to get a few paces away from him. This would-be stud with the wrong ideas was old dumb Charlie, my good buddy! Whatever they'd done to him, I'd have to undo it. "C'mon in, Charlie. You want something to drink?"

"Whatever ya got," he said. I almost expected him to belch and scratch his ass.

Dr. Taylor had laid out her rules for us underage teenagers. Soft drinks. I kept to them the way I kept to most rules. "Wine or beer?" I asked him.

"Whatever, doll!" he said. And he pulled out a hip flask. "Doesn't matter. Any which way, I'll spike it."

Great. So tonight I'll be coping with a drunken lecher. And after going to all this trouble to make myself pretty, so I'd be appreciated and be treated properly by the other girls. Accepted as one of them. I almost pouted my disappointment.

I brought him a glass of white wine. He quaffed off a few sips and refilled the glass from his flask, then settled back. What could I say? I sat primly opposite him. "Tell me about it, Charlie," I said quietly. "What did they do to you?"

To my surprise he answered freely and frankly, without resentment or shame. "Mainly it was this guy Terry and some of his friends. Then a lot of his friends. He told my folks that I'd committed rape and I deserved to go to jail and get cornholed until my asshole grows callouses. But the girl's mother thought that'd be too cruel, that instead she'd fix me so I'd never want to rape a girl ever again. I could choose which one I wanted."

"They gave me a choice too," I said. "That's why I'm dressed like this."

Charlie didn't register. "You always wanted to be a girl? I wish you'd told me! Well, anyhow my Mom got frantic -- she thought she meant she'd cut off my dingus and I'd bleed to death. It's pretty big, my prick. You remember, Sam? You needed both hands to hold it that time we jerked each other off. I loved the way it kept slipping out of your grip when you were trying to squeeze and pull on it at the same time. It was more like you were patting it than pulling on it. Remember?"

I did. I didn't reply, though.

"My Mom says it ought to be declared a national treasure. When I was a baby she'd diddle it and tell everyone how proud she was of it. She told everyone that if it had been modeled after my Dad's there'd be next to nothing there, so probably it was modeled after one of those horny garage mechanics she used to go to, to get herself filled up and have them check her oil."

"I remember your cock," I replied with faint distaste, as any proper girl should, more than ready to drop the topic. "Did they fix it? Cut it off or something?"

"Better! They fixed the rest of me so I'd make better use of it! They explained to me how girls don't know how to appreciate a prick that size. That it takes another guy, because guys know what it's all about. And you know, it's true! They proved it. There were those two huge guys with huge pricks -- they told me get accustomed to them, handle them, feel them with my mouth, see how they feel inside my rear, you know? It took a while, but in the end boy, did they felt great! And they did the same with mine -- those guys had really slick mouths, and the silkiest rear ends you ever felt, once you fit yourself into them! All day yesterday, I swear, Sam, I spent the whole day sucking and fucking those guys and then other guys too, and they spent their whole day sucking and fucking me, and it was ... well, it was just terrific! All of us being real men really into each other, y'know? Y'Know?"

He nudged me. "I get it, I get it, Charlie," I said a little impatiently.

"I like guys now way better than girls!" he said reflectively.

"I guess you do," I said

Charlie didn't hear me. "You know, I can understand now why girls want us guys!" he continued. "A cock in your mouth or up your ass feels ... well, when it moves in and out and it reaches deep, it's ... it's really spectacular! Like nothing else in the world! Same as your own in someone else's!"

"So you like it all, fucking and getting fucked, and sucking and getting sucked?"

"Is there a difference? Oh, yeah. You've been fucked by now too, haven't you, Sam? I mean, you look spectacular, you're a real dish! Isn't that why you're a girl now? So straight guys who don't know any better will be attracted, so you can get at them and gobble their cocks and they won't even know you're really a guy? So for sex you won't need to depend on guys like me?"

This new convert to Queerism was enthusiastic enough. "I guess," I replied, trying to end the conversation. "I wonder what's keeping Jennifer."

But Charlie wasn't done. "You know what, Sam? I've sucked maybe twenty cocks by now, and every guy's cum tastes different! Have you found that out too?"

I lost patience. "Look, Charlie, Jennifer told me this was going to be an all girls' night!"

"Did she? Dr. Taylor told me I'm your date for the night, same as this guy Leslie is Jennifer's. She told me to sure to show you a real good time now that I'm real good at it."

"You mean, you expect to suck my cock?"

He looked grieved, injured. "Oh, no, not right away, Sam, no! Ladies first is what they told me."

At this point the door chimed again. Jennifer was near it -- had she been listening in? -- so she answered it. And was immediately seized by a large guy standing in the doorway. Tall, easy-moving, wearing a turtleneck and gray flannels. With a crisp, handsome face -- I got a glimpse of it before he began to kiss Jennifer's really thoroughly! "I'm glad to see you too, Les," I heard her tell him breathlessly between fierce smooches.

They came in and she introduced him to both of us. Yeah, he was an athlete all right. I recognized him, Leslie Feuer, captain of Rockland High's basketball team two years ago, gone to State U since then, where he was a starter. Two years ago we'd played them and they'd plastered us. Would he recognize me? His eyes drifted over my body and took due note of my flat chest. "Happy to know you, Samantha," he said insincerely, then turned back to Jennifer and his eyes seemed to celebrate her figure. What he meant was, plainly, he wasn't interested, I lack what it takes. Well, good! I smiled politely as he and Charlie nodded at each other, as guys will.

So this was the arrangement. Not four girls on the town, but two girls with two guys. I mean one girl with three ... one of the three also a ... I no longer know what I mean.

I offered to get Les a beer. He accepted and I motioned Jennifer to come out to the kitchen with me.

"What's this about?" I asked her. "I thought we were just out for a good time tonight!"

"We are," Jennifer said.

"These aren't girls! These are guys! Charlie expects to fuck me or something, and I know Les wants you!"

"Well, duh," Jennifer replied. "Do I need to draw you pictures?"

I felt trapped, even though by my own misunderstanding. No way four girls, not ever. This was a double date, and it was going to end with some serious ... sex. "I'm not into guys," I stated categorically. "Especially not Charlie."

"You're a girl, and girls are into guys, and Charlie's especially into you because he thinks you're still a guy, and he's going to end up inside you, Samantha. The end of his pole will, anyhow. Way up inside you." She smiled at her own joke.

"You think?"

She leaned back, arms behind her braced against the kitchen counter, her breasts jutting out at me. "Should I tell my Mom to tell one of her friends in the D.A.'s office to tell the Warden there're soft buns out here waiting to be put to use keeping the prisoners satisfied?"

I remained silent.

"Look here, girlfriend. This is a double date, and Les has a car. When we double date in a car, and we'll do a lot of that this summer I hope, you'll sit in the back seat and do whatever you see me do in the front seat. That way no one's unhappy."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see soon enough. It won't necessarily cost you your virginity this time. I mean, girls who respect themselves don't throw their asses at the first guy who goes out with them, not the first time they go out, not usually. We decide to make out only with special boys, and only if the time feels special, and only if we're pretty sure that they'll fuck us into jelly and we'll scream until we're unconscious. That may not happen this time. It didn't happen to me until only a few years ago, but when it did happen it was so ... oh, I can't begin to tell you! But I want you to have the same kind of experience, Samantha! So years from now you'll know what great loving can be like, especially if you should end up married to a boring husband. So you'll know there's better available and you'll have some idea where to look for it. Tonight, all you have to do is make sure Charlie feels good about you. Cherished. Appreciated. You know what girls are good for. What you don't know is that what we love being good for, and what we love being bad for, are the same thing if they're what we want to do. And you will want to. Trust me on that!"

I had no reply. They'd given this some thought, Jennifer and her mother. I did not appreciate it. "Why'd you pair me with Charlie?"

"Because he'll go for you and there'll be no surprises for him. Also because you need someone you know to dress for, so you can think about what kind of party dress he'll think is especially pretty, and so on. So you'll feel pretty. Maybe even fall in love and get married. Feel that this guy is the one man in the world who's made for you. You and Charlie used to hang out together, so I'm sure you won't mind going to movies, dances, you know, whatever. Being with each other a lot. And as a matter of fact, Charlie was made for you. A rush job all day yesterday and today, but he now he's sort of a finished product ready for testing."

I had nothing to say to that.

"So bring Les his beer and we'll talk a few more minutes and then go."

As we went back in Jennifer suddenly paused, took me by the arm, and turned me to face her directly. And looked me square in the face. "Here's some important advice, Samantha, girl to girl. It's a man's world, pretty much. Guys learn to be aggressive and forthright and dynamic and hard hitting and all that, that's how they make their way in the world. We could do that too, and lots of women do, and for lots of women it works out OK and for lots it doesn't. But even those women learn the necessary surface attributes -- to be soft and cuddly and beautiful, to keep our hair streaming and gleaming and perfumed and our faces ... perfect. And our minds just a little bit challenging but no more than that. OK so far?"

I nodded.

"Those're our assets. Then a man's eager to give us anything he's got in exchange for a kiss or a hug or a tumble in the sheets, because of what we've got. So in the end we get it all. That's how it is, Samantha. And that's how it's going to be. Remember that!"

Whether that's how it is or not, that was how it was going to be, I could see that clearly enough. So I told her I'd remember.
 
 
vi.
 
The date wasn't too bad. We went to an Italian restaurant and the Maitre d held our chairs for us, mine and Jennifer's, and the waiter got our orders and served us first. Les was surprised that I knew all the league ball scores, and after a warning glance from Jennifer I was careful not to contradict him when he got a few wrong. Then when we were together in the ladies' Jennifer congratulated me for my instinctive understanding of 'the fragile male ego.' "Go easy on them," she advised me. "They need to think they're impressing us, not the other way around."

I nodded, noticing that Jennifer was calling the boys 'them' and us girls 'us.' My appearance was deceiving even her?

Charlie had almost no conversation, but once we were in the movies, in the dark, he took my hand and held it reassuringly during the scary parts. Sweet of him, so I didn't mind when he placed it on the bulge in his pants during the sexy parts. Then when we went dancing, I liked the way he checked out my swivelling hips during the fast numbers, so in return I clung to him during the slow numbers and let him feel my whole body through my thin skirt and blouse. Dear old dumb Charlie. It was nice, deeply reassuring to be in his arms. When we left the club and headed into the parking lot, I actually felt like giving him a kiss!

This pretending to be a girl was getting to me! Jennifer had told me how girls get boys to do what they want and instinctively I was following her advice. It did have advantages. Even so, it felt ... queer.

Les drove to a secluded place overlooking the city below, and as we looked down at the glimmering lights we did kiss. Briefly. Charlie and me. He might be stupid but he was affectionate and well-meaning, and I did appreciate that. I saw Jennifer's head disappear, presumably into Les's lap, and I remembered her warning that I better do whatever she does. So as I continued kissing Charlie I unzipped his pants and reached in.

Sure enough, there was that schlong of his trapped in his shorts -- I had to unwrap it from yards of cloth before it sprang free. Then when it was fully liberated and free standing I glanced down.

O Jesus! It was huge all right. A foot tall? Not a pubic hair to be seen anywhere, bald as a baby's! But nowhere near the size of a baby's. As I'd known all along I suppose, it was way bigger even than mine!

I looked up at Charlie. He was leaning over me, ready to re-engage my mouth with his. "Where's the hair down there?" I whispered, very low.

He seemed a little ashamed. "I shaved it off. This place Dr. Taylor sent me the last two days, they don't like hair on your prick. Not on your balls either. They say it gets in people's teeth, and when you do people in the ass it's messy to clean sometimes."

"Teeth?" I was bewildered, and looked down at his bald eggs and then at his ivory tower. It had grown even bigger.

Charlie just replied impatiently, "I'll tell you more later. You better start doing whatever your girlfriend is doing or you could get into big trouble. I'm supposed to tell her mother if you've been a good girl or not."

I looked again toward the other two. Jennifer's head had emerged above the back of the seat, and her mouth was now plastered to Les's. Then to my horror I saw her disengage, glance back at me, wink, lick her lips, and with a smile of anticipation -- anticipation! -- bend down and disappear behind the front seat again. Les suddenly threw his head straight back and whispered aloud to the windshield, "Oh, God, oh yes, Jenn, oh, that's good! Yes! Oh, yes!"

Then his head began lolling backward, nodding oddly, periodically pressing against the headrest, as if he was rhythmically raising and lowering his crotch. There was no doubt that's what he was doing. And no doubt what she was doing. "Uhhh," he said with each movement backward. "Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh!"

"She's blowing him!" I said. "That's what she's doing!" Amazing! I'd never seen it happen from so close. Except to me.

"That's the name of the game," Charlie said. "Yes. That's what girls do, Sammie. Gay guys too." And as he settled his butt a little further forward in the seat to give me easier access and make himself more comfortable, he added smugly, "It feels real good. You're the girl here, so give me a kiss and then go down on me and see for yourself!"

"But I'm really a guy, Charlie! You know that!"

He grabbed my shoulders and bent over and gave me a slobbering kiss full onto my open, lipsticked mouth, then pushed in his tongue, pulled it back, and grinned. "I sure do know you're a guy! They told me never to forget it, not now, not ever, just enjoy it. But I shouldn't ever say so because you need to think you're a girl and that's how come I find you attractive, because you're a girl. So take my cock in your mouth and make me feel good, babe, OK? Do it!"

I turned my head toward the front of the car. Somewhere down on Les's lap, her head rising and falling, Jennifer had no doubt heard this exchange and was maybe even now grinning, maybe even as Les's cock was sliding between her lips. There was no doubt what she expected to hear next. The slurpy sounds of Samantha's lips sucking on Sam's old buddy Charlie's cock.

"I'm not a pansy," I said. The idea was abhorrent to me. "I'm not gay."

"No, but I am," Charlie said enthusiastically. "I am now. I mean, they showed me how good it was." Then coaxing gently and stroking my hair while almost unnoticeably pressing my head down toward his lap, "C'mon, Samantha, suck my cock!" he said. "You know what to do with a guy's cock! You're a big girl!"

And I realized suddenly that no, I don't know what to do. But that I'd better do it anyhow. Fake it, like everything else I'd been doing.

I bent over and caught a faint smell of sweat. Maybe urine too? And then took Charlie's cock in my fist. It was so fat my fingers went only half way round. I looked at it. The head was sticking straight up, high in the air, staring at me with its one eye.

"Ahhh!" Charlie said. He'd felt my first squeeze. I gave it another tentative squeeze. "Ohhhh!" he added. Then to encourage me, he whispered," "Go down on me, Samantha! Sam! Do it! Lick me all around and then suck me in and jack me off! That's what girls do!"

What else could I say? He was right! I bent down and licked that huge pink head, way bigger than the one on mine. 'We should all do best whatever we can do best,' a grade school teacher had once drilled into me. What Charlie did best was grow his cock to this enormous size. What I better do best now is kiss it, appreciate Charlie's accomplishment. My gorge rose, but I tried to pay it no attention. I concentrated on the sensations. To my hand that whole pole felt like spongy satin. Not so bad. It was the idea more than the reality that bothered me. Anyhow, I had to do it, Jennifer had made that plain. Maybe I could. Just do it, try to get through the evening without Dr. Taylor giving up on me and sending me off to Bubba and friends to get fucked.

So I licked the tip. Faintly salty. Whatever that drop of fluid there, it melted on the tip of my tongue. Thank God, not at all slimy. I lowered my lips and managed to enclose most of the head of Charlie's cock into my mouth, trying to protect it from my teeth. There was no room for more. The soft bulb pushed against the back of my throat. Then I realized that somehow my lips had gotten past the ridge on the head and had advanced a little down onto the shank and were pulsing on the shank. I bobbed my head and rubbed my lips up and down, not much, maybe only an inch or so, that was as much of him as I could fit into my mouth. Then I started to jerk him off with the hand I still had wrapped around the rest of it. Get it over with.

"Oh, yes!" Charlie declared to the roof of the car, his head thrown way back.

"Oh, yes indeed!" Jennifer's voice declared behind me. "Just beautiful! You two lovers look so very sweet together! Just darling."

I looked up sideways at her, the end of Charlie's cock twisting into my cheek. She was taking a break from cocksucking Les, resting her head on the back of the front seat and smiling at me. Triumphantly! "So very dear! I wish I had a picture. But I don't really need one, I'll remember this moment always. You're have the makings of such a wonderful cocksucker, Samantha! I always knew it, and I must certainly spread the word, it'll do wonders for your reputation! What say we bring off our guys so spectacularly that they'll spread the word too, tell everyone how good we are at it, how happy we can make a man feel? Then the two of us will spend the whole summer beating guys off with clubs!"

Her head disappeared again. "Be real loud, Samantha honey," I heard her voice say. "And I'll do the same. Les and Charlie, you too, so we can all of us share everyone's pleasure. Maybe Samantha and I can bring you two guys off at the same time? That'd be fun! If you two guys cum in perfect synch, that'd be something to tell our grandchildren!"

Was there mockery in her voice, in her words? I couldn't tell, so I tried to ignore what she was saying and just keep sucking on Charlie's cock. In and out, in and out, and pump, pump with my fist. I wished it were my own cock, but that was neither here nor there. I heard Jennifer start to moan, and figured Les must have a finger or two up her twat, so I put Charlie's hand on my pecker and he started to rub it, and that felt good. I started to moan too. The car became a steamy chamber of groans and cries. I kept at it, sliding my lips up and down Charlie's shank, sucking on that bulbous head in order to keep my lips clamped tight around it. Tonguing the upper part of it all the while jerking off the lower part as fast as I could, at least as fast as I could without pulling it off his groin altogether. Charlie began to groan with the rest of us.

Then he said, "Oh God!" and I thought, 'I'm blowing it!' I guess I was, because Charlie's hips were now striving desperately to thrust that meat of his all the way down my throat and meanwhile I hadn't heard anything from up front to signal that Les had arrived at his own peak. Was Jennifer holding out on me? No. But there was urgency in her voice when she suddenly said, hastily, her words muffled, "Remember, we swallow!" and Les's voice began a crescendo of "Ahhhh! Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!" So I sucked as hard as I could and squeezed Charlie up and down with my hand as fast as I could and he made a rattling sound in his throat, and his cock swelled up in my throat -- that's where it actually ended up, that fat head jammed part way down my throat -- and started gushing! Gushing! My God, hot cum, spurt after spurt! A lot of it straight down into my belly but when I pulled my head back the rest of it filled my mouth. Talk about salty and slick too! And ... but ... not too bad! Not unpleasant! I swirled the thick juice across my tongue. Melted Jello? Hot Gatorade? A little of each? Neither?

Cum, that's what it was! Charlie was right, it did taste different, at least different from the way my own cum tasted when I'd sucked it out of Jennifer's snatch. This was cum fresh from the fountain. My very first!

What in hell was I thinking! My FIRST? There would be others?

Yes, I guess there will be, I was thinking. As Jennifer's closest girlfriend and her household helper and all, she'd see to it. She'll be sure to bring me along on other dates, always with a date of my own, one or another guy who'll expect a blow job at least, maybe if push comes to shove a fuck. Different guys until I begin to long for just one, to go steady, to have a real relationship. Maybe with someone like Charlie. Comfortable, familiar, manageable Charlie. Charlie, who'll always do whatever I want, most always.

That wouldn't be too bad. I felt a surge of affection for him and my head came up and my arms wrapped around his neck and I kissed him passionately, my lips and still mouth coated with his sperm, smearing it all over his face. He didn't mind, he kissed me back. I suddenly realized that was exactly what Jennifer wanted. And Dr. Taylor. Even Charlie. That's what we were being redesigned for. A relationship! The two of us!

But hey, why not? I was a girl. Feeling no resentment -- in fact feeling a certain eager curiosity -- I turned to Charlie. "Next thing, do we fuck, sweetie?" I asked as if I'd known but for the moment had forgotten the agreed scenario."

He was still breathing hard from his ejaculation. "I do. You get fucked. And this time you get to cum, and enjoy it, and want more. That's what they told me," he said in between gasps. "'A hard fuck up your old buddy's ass,' that's what they told me to give you. They said Jennifer's mother specifically asked if it was on the menu and then ordered it. But not till we get back to the house. And not unless we both really want to do it. And we can find us a bed or a couch. Guys don't fuck too easy in cars, it's better to spread out. Terry showed me that last night, when he fucked me first on a car and then on a couch, and then I tried the same thing with another guy. No comparison. So that's how we'll finish every date. That's the idea for now, anyhow."

He seemed content with the idea. He'll bugger me often and in comfort. Even though I'm now supposed to be a girl.

Come to think of it, he doesn't see me as a girl. He'd had no problem when I sucked him off. To him I'm a boy who only looks like a girl. And he prefers that because he's gay now. He's changed. That's his punishment for supposedly raping Jennifer. We were both heterosexual when Dr. Taylor lowered the boom on us. But now? He'd accepted my cocksucking with a certain ...satisfaction. No problem, one guy blowing another guy, that's how he likes it. And his genitals were shaved. Why? To make things more pleasant for others, for me, also for himself when he fucks assholes and wipes off afterward. They mean for Charlie to stay gay permanently.

"Charlie, how many guys have sucked you off? Or have you sucked off? Or have been in your ass? Or vice versa?" It wouldn't do to talk around the point. Charlie had no subtlety.

"Christ, Sam! I mean Samantha. Altogether? Counting you? I don't even know any more! I mean, you're still a guy, though they tell me that's not for much longer. They tell me you're going to be a girl, and when that happens we can get married and live happily ever after. When you're legally a girl. That's what they told me at this place they took me. I told them I couldn't do that, marry you, because no matter what the law says you've always been my buddy, you'll always be a guy to me, so I could never do sex to you, because I'm not queer. I'm not a homo. That's what I told them. They told me not to worry, they'd fix it. So they fixed it, and now I am queer."

That much I could tell. "How many, Charlie? Not counting me, because when I'm a girl I won't count."

"All added up, Sam? I mean, Samantha? Lemme see. There was this Gay Men's Club first off -- all the guys lined up to suck me off while I was strapped in and helpless. I had nothing for them after a few, so most of them just held my cock in their mouths for a while and licked it like a noodle. It felt good. And the whole time other guys were lined up for me to suck them off, all the same time, even though they didn't always cum because my hands were tied so I couldn't help them out except with my mouth. I dunno, I lost count. Maybe a dozen guys each way. More? I didn't cum more than three times myself. But they didn't mind, they blew me anyhow."

"How about fucking in the ass?"

"Me? Not much. A few times. I got fucked a few times, I mean. Each night. And I did other guys a few times. That's not something you're supposed to ask me, you know that Samantha? It's kind of private. Not until we've fucked each other, and then only when you can't fuck me any more. Not until you beg me to fuck you and entice me and all because you can't hold back, you've gotta have it the way girls do when they get hot and can't quit. They told me to get used to sex with lots of guys, so I could encourage my former buddy to have sex with me and be happy with me and also with lots of other guys too. You'll have sex with other guys too, they said, but mainly me."

"They brought out your latent homosexuality so you wouldn't mind having sex with me?"

"Whatever. I guess so. But they didn't need to bother, Samantha, because I always liked you special. I never knew why, I guess I was always a little bit homo. And anyhow they're turning you into a real dish, I've gotta say that! A doll! Samantha honey, sex with you isn't anything like sex with the other guys I've done. Most of those guys are bony and hairy, and some of them, well, they coulda used a shower or a bath. Talk about smells? But Samantha, you're ... really nice. You smell like perfume. I really like you!"

My heart warmed to his simple honesty. In this nest of deceit that much had to be cherished. 'I like you too, Charlie," I said simply.

And then I have no idea why, I kissed him again. Twice. Out of an affection that overflowed my heart. The big loon! And Charlie kissed me back. What was this?

Jennifer's voice broke in, and now she really sounded impressed, trying for sarcasm but failing. "Well, now that really is dear! Les, we'd better drive these lovebirds back home before they consummate right here and splatter your car." She'd been watching us again I supposed, and listening. So for spite I really leaned into Charlie's face with my eyes tight shut, and pushed my tongue way deep into Charlie's mouth. And he began sucking on it! Then he started kissing my face! Ruining my make-up, and I didn't mind at all! In the corner of my eye I saw Jennifer shaking her head and then turning to look forward as the car started up..

Then as soon as we got back to her house, Charlie and me, still plastered against each other, we went into her living room and fucked. Fucked! Right off, no dildo preliminaries. I almost forgot to pull out my tampon, but I did remember, and I ran into the kitchen and ransacked the cupboard to find something, anything, and grabbed a bottle of olive oil, great, and rushed back with it. And oiled up that white tower of Charlie's and kneeled on the couch and leaned over the back of the couch and Charlie pushed himself into me with that big fat tube of his and I wriggled and ... and it was the strangest feeling! At first I felt helpless, impaled like a bug! I didn't dare move, except in one direction or the other. Up or down was in and out. And he started sliding his thing in and out and then, oh, then I didn't at all mind being impaled, I didn't mind being a girl and getting fucked by a master cock! Not then, not ever again I was thinking! Not while there are cocks like Charlie's in the world, I was thinking, not while there are guys who desire me and feel like that inside me! Guys who feel as if they were made for me. And can make me feel so ... great! So ... oh, God!, this feels so good, and there's this wonderful sensation in my belly rising and rising and ...!

We came at the same moment, him into me, me all over Dr. Taylor's couch cushions. Somehow I didn't mind. I didn't even mind that after Charlie ejaculated he slumped down heavily onto my back and just lay there, crushing me until he could recover his breath. When finally he climbed off me I just smiled and lay alongside, embracing him. The big stoop!

We were still like that, me in a kind of pleased daze, when Leslie came down from Jennifer's room and asked Charlie if he wanted a lift and if so he should get ready to leave. Then the two of them left. I turned over the couch cushion so the dry side showed, slipped a new tampon into me to keep Charlie's cum from running down my leg, and went up to see how Jennifer was doing.

She was lying on her back on her unmade bed, legs all apart, all relaxed, half-melted into her mattress.

"Is it always like this?" I asked her.

She turned her head and saw at a glance how I felt, and replied languidly, "Girlfriend, with the right guy, yes. Always." And sighed. Then said, "Samantha, would you mind terribly, I have this wet, sloppy feeling down here between my legs. Would it be too much to ask ...?"

"To bring you a washcloth to wipe it away?" I finished the sentence for her teasingly.

She glanced at me again and said, "Ahhh, not exactly, I ...."

"No, I don't mind at all," I broke in again. "I'm a girl now, I think, so I love how a guy's cum feels and tastes when I suck it up, and I guess I'm still partly a boy too, because I love sucking on girls' cunts."

"Then you're my kind of girl too," she said, deeply satisfied, and raised her knees. "How do you think girls make love with each other?"

Jennifer was bisexual? Why not? She was everything else it seems! So I dived in. Leslie's cum drooling out of her snatch tasted great too, different from mine and also different from Charlie's I was pleased to notice, a little anyhow. Jennifer moaned and then screamed to a climax twice while I was sucking and lapping and tonguing her cunt back to pristine cleanliness, and that was satisfying.

"I guess I'm bisexual too," I told her. "I loved that."

"You can suck my cunt any time, Samantha. And call me 'Jenny' now please. You belong to my inner circle."

That was puzzling. "What do you mean?"

"A bunch of us girls like to get together now and then and ... well, you know, please each other. Lick our pussies, hold vagina monologues with them. We know each other by special names no one else is allowed to use, not even our parents. Clarie and Trace and Pegs for example. You can be an honorary member now, and when you get your own pussy you can be a full member. If any of the other girls hear you call me 'Jenny' they'll know you're one of us and available, and if they like the idea they'll introduce themselves to you and you can suck on their pussies too if you're available that night or the next morning, clean them out after they're finished with their dates. In fact it's an obligation. Same as them sucking on your pussy after your dates, when you get one of your own."

"So sometimes I'll get to taste other guys without even meeting them?"

"Sometimes. When your boobs come in and the guys quit wondering what kind of a girl are you, you'll be able to meet them in the flesh too. So to speak. It depends."

That sounded like not too bad a deal. I wondered momentarily whether Jennifer would be willing to perform the same service for me. Here it was, Charlie was gone but his cum was still inside me, soaking into my tampon -- how much was there? How much of his juice had that rod of his pumped into me anyhow? A lot.

"Jenny...," I started to say.

"No," she replied. "I won't. You'll just have to use a fresh tampon, Sammie, and then later on douche. Like any other girl."

Of course. I now saw the wisdom in my mother's advice never to leave home without tampons in your purse, because you never know.

"I don't do assholes," she continued. "Ask Beatie if the occasion arises. She won't mind, not if you do her asshole first."

Welcome to the club. I was now an official groupie cumsucker.
 
 
vii.
 
When I got home that night everyone was asleep. The next morning I came down in only my nightie and Mom saw my earrings right off but she only asked me how the day had gone. I perked up and we went up together and I showed her the other clothes I'd bought with Jennifer and she told me that Jennifer had excellent taste. I assured her that no, the clothes we'd bought together were what I wanted to wear, they were my choices, my taste. That I was developing a feel for what kind of girl I was, and what kinds of clothes were really me. She bemusedly said nothing, but I think she was impressed. Later she asked me what I'd fixed for supper, and I told her I hadn't, that instead Jennifer and I had double-dated and we'd had dinner out. That she was with some college guy named Les and I went with Charlie.

"You and Charlie! You must have made a good looking couple!"

"We did." Then it occurred to me. "Mom, you knew he wasn't being turned into a girl like me? That they had something else in mind for him?"

"Dr. Taylor told me what their plans were. Charlie's mother thought it was just as well -- she sort of liked the idea. Because Sam was having a bad influence on Charlie and getting him into all kinds of trouble, this rape charge in particular. But if Samantha's a girl she can't help but have a good influence on him, she thought. And they're already friends, so maybe she can learn to care about him and the friendship will become something deeper. Did the two of you have a good time?"

"I loved it!" came out of my mouth before I could repress the words. Mom's eyebrows rose, so I decided to cover my bases and close off the conversation. "Jennifer's forgiven both of us. We'll pal around some this summer, Charlie and me and Jenny and whoever she's seeing. She wants me to meet other guys too."

"I see," said Mom.

I didn't know what she saw, so I mentioned that I wanted to fix different desserts for the Taylor household and didn't know how. That changed the subject. We called and determined that Jennifer had things to do and her mother didn't expect me until the late afternoon, wouldn't even be home until after I'd gone back home myself. So we spent most of the day making cookies and pies, mixing and rolling out dough and preparing different fruit fillings. And that was as unexpectedly nice as my previous night out with Charlie, because while we did our different things in the kitchen, Mom chatted away with me like she used to do with Beth. About how when she was a girl she'd learned to cook from an aunt, about what kinds of guys she'd liked before she met Dad, even about how she felt about Dad during their first date -- he seemed somewhat stuck-up, so she'd decided she'd needle him a little, agree with him about nothing, but he caught on and began to agree with her about everything, and she caught on to that too, and then they really began to appreciate each other.

We made that kind of easy girl talk and it was wonderful! When it was time for me to go over to Jennifer's place, we were good friends. She commented on how easily, how deftly I put on my make-up before leaving the house, and I showed her one or two of the tricks with mascara Jenny had taught me. Then before I picked up the pie I planned to serve at the Taylor's that evening, I spontaneously hugged her. I felt so good about everything!

And one reason was, I didn't have to worry about all the things Sam usually had on his mind. All his worries. His status with his buddies, and maintaining his competitive edge, and how to get into the next girl's pants, and figuring out what to say if some dirty trick he'd played was traced back to him. None of those things mattered now. Just whether or not to warm the pie before I served it, that was what mattered. Cleaning Dr. Taylor's house was easy, no one used it much, and the listed dinner was hamburgers on the grill, no problem. And oven-warmed pie. I went home early and lay down on Beth's bed to rest, and fell asleep. And slept like a baby.

The next morning was not so good. Nausea gripped me, and I rushed to the toilet. I resolved to go to bed with an empty stomach for the next week or so, until my body could get used to these new hormones. Then I realized that I'd be seeing Charlie again that evening, and that he'd be expecting me to make him feel good the way girls do, and ... Jenny had mentioned some other guys she knew, and ... well, I'd do what I had to do but I'd try to go to sleep on an almost empty stomach.

And then I smiled. Because the prospect was actually pleasing. It gave me a good feeling to know there'd be cum in my tummy most nights. I liked being good at whatever I did. That's just me.

I also noticed that there were two hard lumps behind my nipples that pushed them out a little, and I was surprised to notice that I felt no annoyance at all with them. Instead I felt pleased -- I was becoming a woman! I hurried over to my friend Jenny to tell her -- this time dessert would be fresh-baked cookies, so I took some fresh-wrapped, pre-prepared cookie dough with me. She was almost as excited by the prospect as I was when I showed her.

"That's how I started my adolescence, Samantha," she told me. "That's how we all begin. They'll hurt a little sometimes, maybe itch a little, but from now on your bras won't just be costume accessories worn to excite guys, they'll be essential underwear for holding yourself firm. So you don't bobble every time you move. Hold still and pay attention now, and you'll see for yourself what makes it all worth while."

She reached toward me and touched the very tips of those extended nipples. Very lightly. I almost fainted with pleasure. A high pitched squeal escaped me.

"Yes," she said. "Boys will be so pleased to hear you making noises like that! It makes them feel like real men to please a girl that way. Mine felt that way from the beginning too. But be careful who you let caress your boobs from now on, because once they begin you won't be able to stop them from doing anything at all to you. You won't want to stop them."

I smiled slyly. "That'll be good," I replied. "I already don't mind, if that's what it'll feel like!" We looked at each other, girl to girl. And then for no reason at all Jennifer and I smiled, then squealed, and hugged, and even jumped up and down. I was ecstatic, because I knew that the way my nipples already felt, I wouldn't ever want to stop anyone! Being a girl was so ... amazing!

A week later my morning sickness became less predictable, and two weeks later it subsided altogether. My boobs grew fast -- soon they were almost B-cups. It was finally summer, and warm weather, so I took to wearing slightly undersized T-shirts with a bit of lycra in the weave to show them off. And sure enough, wherever I went boys' eyes went to my chest. More girl power! It made me almost heady.

Finally Mom took me aside and lectured me about 'asking for it,' the difference between the hard-sell and more subtly suggestive forms of displaying sexual merchandise. About my responsibilities as a 'nice girl' -- and she wanted no other kind for a daughter. So I toned down and bought a few larger -- though appropriately shaped -- blouses to wear as well, and almost for spite one more tight elasticized T-shirt, though with a broad, busy, colorful pattern to distract the eye from my two outcroppings, so they'd be the second and not the first things anyone noticed about me.

Even so, I made sure that whatever else, before he fucked my ass Charlie had to service my boobs nightly with his mouth and fingertips. And after a few weeks I took Jennifer's advice and dated a few other boys, friends of hers or of her friends, and I awarded them that privilege too. I'd fondle their cocks, maybe mouth them, and long before they were ready to cum they were ready to do all kinds of things for me in return. Then I got to know Jenn's 'inner circle,' the girls she was really intimate with, and sure enough, no problem, they included me in their intimacies. One or another of them would lick my clit while I licked theirs and sucked out their pussies, each time wondering what I'd find in them, or who's it was. I never in my life had so many orgasms! Being a girl was way better than being a boy, even a sports hero the girls pined after.

I felt embarrassed at first, my clit was so much bigger than theirs, but Jenn assured me that was no problem, just wait. Sure enough, as the summer went on it got more respectably smaller, also softer, more like theirs, finally too soft to push into anything. Charlie let me take one last farewell fuck in his ass while I could still tuck it into his rump like a limp balloon, but after that it was all one way -- he fucked and I was fucked for good. And my balls shrank too, just as Dr. Taylor'd predicted. But that wasn't all bad. In a department store once, I tried on the tightest-crotch stretch jeans they had, and found I could actually crease my almost-empty scrotum into a camel-toe! A real-looking slit for all to see! Oooh was I proud! I strolled our local mall all afternoon, weaving my rear and waving my pseudo pussy at everyone! And the next day bought my first bikinis ever!

I have to tell you this! Early in August I actually dated a real movie star! It was exciting, the very idea of it! A guy who was actually in a movie once, in a scene with Leonardo de Caprio if you can believe it, even though he was just standing there looking out the window, and he didn't speak any lines. I wanted to wear my citrus blouse for him, the one with a sort of plunging neckline now that I had boobs to hint at, but I had no skirt to match. So I called Jennifer and asked her right off, "Jenny, can I borrow your lime green skirt, the flary one?"

"Why sure, Samantha." She hesitated a moment. I hoped she'd ask why and she did! "But what's the occasion?" Her voice was eager.

Mine was even more eager. "I'll be going out with Rick Fraser when he comes to town tomorrow."

"Samantha, no!"

"Yes!" I said. And sat silent, enjoying the moment enormously.

She made me promise to tell her all about it the next day, and then she offered to lend me her rhinestone earrings too -- "they'd be perfect with that outfit." When I clicked off from her I felt practically smug.

Even more smug a few days later when I could actually truthfully tell her that Rick Fraser's cock was "Nothing, really." She was disbelieving at first, but there was no denying it. "I took the whole thing in my mouth to suck it, to get it hard, to make it long enough at least for me to hold in my fist. And what did I find? It was already hard! It was already as big as it gets! All I could do with it was take it between my thumb and forefinger and jiggle it until he came! Can you imagine?"

She could, and she commiserated with me, and we ended up giggling together about the other small boys she knew and I was encountering now and then. It was a wonderful moment.

Jennifer and I became dear friends, but as the summer wore on Dr. Taylor grew less and less enthusiastic about what she'd done to me. It seems that my willing acceptance of all things feminine, my obvious delight in my new role in life, deprived her of the satisfaction of seeing my self-esteem sink along with my manhood. It defeated altogether her original intent, to punish and humiliate me by emasculating me. She'd succeeded so well at emasculating me that she'd failed altogether. The more I immersed myself in this wonderful girl culture she had forced me to enter the more delightful I found it, not least because every new delight was a triumph over her original intentions. Dr. Taylor had meant to mess up my life by forcing me to become a pseudo-girl. I messed up her plan by becoming a real one, and much too quickly for her to savor her victory. Even as a boy I'd always been adaptable, quick to take advantage of whatever chance or circumstance or the opposing team could throw at me. Who knew I could adapt so quickly to this challenge?

My greatest satisfaction came toward the end of the summer, when I was preparing to start College, my time of servitude to the Taylor household nearing an end. I overheard Jennifer criticizing her mother, saying "Mom, you're always mean to Samantha! The more she does what you want, the more unhappy you seem to be! Why is that?"

Her mother replied, "I thought I was punishing him for forcing himself on you. Instead, by making him into a girl I find I've rewarded him! That was not what I intended!"

"That's so sad," Jennifer told her. "If it's any consolation, he didn't exactly force himself. I set him up because I wanted to take him down a peg or two too. I thought he needed it. But it turns out she appreciates it, everything we've done for her! No loss to me, he never could have been a boyfriend to me anyhow, he was never man enough for that. I knew that even when I was seducing him into raping me -- his cock was only the warmup act for Charlie's. But she's been a wonderful girlfriend. I can't thank you enough for giving him to me as a girlfriend!"

"You set him up? Seduced him into raping you? He didn't force himself on you?"

"Mom, did Dad ever force you to sleep with all those other men? C'mon! When were either of us ever forced to fuck?"

Dr. Taylor was silent for a moment. "Well, he's happy, apparently, but now I'm not. I'm annoyed at you, young lady, though I have to admit you haven't done anything I wouldn't do. In fact, you haven't done anything I haven't done, and not only with your father. I've seen how you fix Sam up with boys these days, and with some of your girlfriends too, so I suppose you've been trying to make amends. But how can I make this up to him?"

"Easy, Mom. When the time comes, say when Samantha graduates from college, buy her the best vagina money can buy. As a graduation present. I bet by then it'll also be a wedding present. I'm sure she'll marry her best boyfriend Charlie eventually. I grant you that Charlie doesn't have the smarts to appreciate a class A pussy. But lots of other boys do, and lots of other boys will, and me too whenever the two of us get together with the other girls of my inner circle. So cheer up. Sam's punishment did Samantha a favor, and she's happy with it. Same as Dad is with his!"

Her mother made noises signifying assent, but after that, nothing I could hear.

The rest of the summer was the happiest time of my life. Mom and I became the closest of friends -- she told me all sorts of things only girls know, about being a girl and about dealing with boys, both. Daddy finally accepted me completely. For my birthday in August he bought me the most beautiful pearl necklace with matching pearl drop earrings, just perfect to go with my favorite little black dress, the fitted silk. He was embarrassed but pleased, I know it, when I couldn't stop kissing him out of sheer gratitude.

And meanwhile I had dates with lots of guys, way more than I'd ever had with girls. And lots of sex! There are no problems ever with guys saying 'No!' when you make your moves, telling you 'Never on a first date,' or fobbing you off with a quick kiss, the way girls do. Guys are always ready to rumble. I'd blow some and assfuck with some, explaining shamefaced that I was having my time of month. And every twenty-eight days I really did have my time of month, in a way. I liked it, changing tampons even when there didn't happen to be cum in my bum for a tampon to blot up! It did help me feel more feminine. More like the other girls I got to know.

And of course there was always Charlie. He didn't know enough to be jealous. He'd show up for dates with me in his muscle regalia, but when I insisted he wear a proper suit and tie, he did. I realized I could still control him, that though I was the girl I was always in charge. Life with him might not be so bad after all, I decided. He remained my best buddy and my dearest friend, a lot of what I never had found in any girl all wrapped up in a boy. After that first date Jennifer'd arranged for us, when he took my cherry at both ends, I got to feeling really fond of him.

With good reason. He's sort of handsome, manly in the way he moves, the way he holds his head when he's listening to me, the way he smiles to himself sometimes when he thinks he's alone. Moreover, he thinks I'm a fox, and he loves the way I look when we're out together. He's proud that I'm the girl clinging to his arm, where everyone can see. But above all, he's dynamite in bed -- he does everything I like, eagerly, and he lets me do anything with him. Anywhere. We've made out in a women's bathroom at Burger King, where he slammed me against a wall until a guy in the men's room next door shouted that we should get a room, and we shouted back that's what we'd just done! In an elevator too, I remember we stepped in, and we just looked at each other, and the mood was right, so I hit the stop button and ... well, we might still be sucking each other off if the building's custodian hadn't over-ridden the stop switch. Charlie's always as happy as I am even when we're only just sitting and talking. He's attentive, appreciative, interested in everything I like, and always eager to hear more even when he can't understand any of it. He's too dumb to disagree with anything, even my desire to date other guys too. I think he's perfect for me. Very marriageable. I'm sure that with Charlie I'll always be able to live happily ever after.

So now I'm looking forward to four years of making out with college boys like Les, and maybe college girls like Jennifer, and then coming home and getting a cunt installed at Dr. Taylor's expense so I can marry Charlie legally. Charlie's already working in his father's trucking business, learning the routes. So there'll always be times when he isn't home, sometimes for days or weeks at a time. So even after we're married I'll always have time to look around and play around, to check out some guys and return others well-used.

My sister Beth thinks even then I'll be too young to get married. But Mom and Dad like the idea wholeheartedly -- they both think it'll settle me down and make me responsible and start me living my own life. I think so too. I mean, it's now as obvious to Charlie as it is to me that we were made for each other.

---

 
Copyright(c) 2009 by Vickie Tern

Vickie [email protected]