Author's Note: University Challenge is a long running UK TV quiz game between teams of four students from two competing universities. A starter question for ten points is offered and if the first person on the buzzer gets it right, three bonus questions, each worth five points, are offered to the team as a whole, before the game again returns to: "Your starter for ten points."
This is a work of fiction and all people, places and events (apart from the obvious ones) are imaginary.
by Charlotte Dickles
This was going to be the day, Michael decided. OK, he'd thought that for the last seven days, but this was definitely IT. In any case, this was the last day of the Summer term. It HAD to be the day.
It had been last Friday when he'd first cast eyes on Safia, at a University Challenge organised between his school - Seacombe Public School (or SPuS as most people pronounced it) - and hers - SIGHS - the girls' independent high school. She'd been on the opposing team, and he'd fallen in love as soon as he'd seen her. Oh, he'd been attracted to girls before and lusted over them. But never before had he seen anyone as beautiful as this slender Asian girl, who gave him a quick smile across the floor when he gave his team's first correct answer.
In fact, the smile made the adrenaline surge through his body, inspiring his performance and he carried the rest of his lacklustre team for the whole evening. When the results were announced, they had a credible, rather than a miserable, score, and as he stood up to make his way over to another of her smiles, he was bombarded by congratulations from everyone from the headmaster downwards. By the time he'd freed himself, he could see her disappearing through the exit with her father.
Eight times he'd cycled past her house over the weekend, staring through the automatic gate at the huge house set in its own grounds with a BMW parked outside, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Every day, he'd walked an extra mile to school in order to pass along her road, in the hope he would catch her emerging - or perhaps she might see him as her father drove her to school, and she would ask her father to stop and offer him a lift. At the end of each day, he'd waited outside her school hoping to catch sight of her.
All to no avail. In fact, she didn't appear to have been to school that week, and her friends didn't know why.
He'd determined that morning to ring the bell, to see if she was sick, perhaps to offer to collect her things from school before the end of term, whatever. In fact, when he was just a few yards from the drive, her father's BMW shot out. It would surely have run him over if he'd been any closer. The car turned away from him and accelerated quickly along the road, but not so quickly that Michael could see Safia was not in the car.
Which meant she must still be in the house. As he turned towards it, he could see the automatic gates closing - he sprinted and got through the gap just before they clanged shut.
Suddenly nervous, he looked around to check her father had not seen his actions and returned to eject him, but all was quiet. He made his way to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Somewhere in the house, rather naff doorbell chimes sounded.
He heard steps rapidly walking up to the door, and it was thrown open.
"What's wrong now?" Safia screamed at him, and then stopped, her eyes boggling with astonishment in a way that Michael found very appealing. She was wearing tight jeans and a tee shirt with a Mr Happy face printed on it, and Michael found it very easy to grin back at her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought it was my father coming back, and we'd had a little..." She paused, uncertain what to say.
"Row?" Michael prompted.
She smiled and her face lit up. "Yes. Actually, it was a great big row - that's all we seem to do nowadays."
"I'd been hoping to bump into you to say how good I thought you were at the University Challenge," he said, using one of the lines he'd rehearsed over and over.
"I was just a member of the team," she said, "but you were quite brilliant. The rest of your team were useless. You should have been the captain." She looked over his shoulder, presumably at the gate and added, "Incidentally, how did you get through the gates?"
"I saw your father leaving and he said to go on in," he said.
She grinned again, her face lighting up. "Now I know you're lying," she said. "My father would never let a single, unescorted man be alone in the house with me."
He grinned back. "I managed to dash through the gate before it closed after your father drove out," he said. "But I have been looking out for you over the last few days. Your friends say you haven't been to school, and I wondered if you were ill?"
She glanced at the gate and the road beyond, suddenly cautious. "You'd better come in," she said. "It doesn't do for a man to be seen standing on the doorstep."
She opened the door to allow him to enter, and as he passed by her, he could smell her perfume and peer down at the gentle curve of her small breasts pushing out the tee shirt.
She smiled at him some more; then after closing the front door, she gesticulated that he follow her through to the back of the house.
"Would you like some tea or coffee?" she asked. "Or a Coke?"
He chose a Coke, and said, as casually as he could (which wasn't very casual at all), "Are you going to school today. If so, I could walk you there." His heart was racing as he awaited the answer.
"My father has forbidden me to go to school any longer."
"Forbidden you! How can he do that? Why?"
She chose her words carefully. "You don't understand Asian culture. He saw me smiling at you at the competition. As soon as we were in the car, he called me a prostitute, and said that Haresh would not marry me if I behaved like that."
He was aghast at her words. "You're getting married?"
"My father has arranged for Haresh to marry me," she added.
"No!" he gasped. "Are you old enough... I mean, I thought you might be..."
"I am sixteen in three months time and I am to be married on my birthday. Haresh is thirty-one."
"Thirty-one! He's an old man. That's disgusting!"
She smiled at him. "When we rowed on Friday, I told my father I would not marry Haresh. He said, 'In that case, you will marry no one.' I am to remain in this house until I consent to marry Haresh. I will not do that, so I will remain here forever."
"Let me take you away now," he said. "You could stay at my house until we find you somewhere more permanent."
"How do you suggest we leave?"
"The same way as I came in. Through the front door."
"Between the garden and the road is a high gate which is locked. The security fence runs all the way around the garden. We cannot leave."
"You mean you're imprisoned here?" A further thought struck him. "And that I'm trapped here as well?"
"But I have to get to school."
"Not today. You are here today."
"Oh. I could call my mother at work and she could go home and get a ladder."
"No." She spoke softly, but very firmly. "Your mother would be very angry with my father, and the whole story would leak out. When it was discovered that I had been alone in the house with you, my father's name would be ruined."
"But he's keeping you a prisoner. His name should be ruined."
"He is still my father. I will not allow it."
"Oh." The implication of his situation sank in. "You mean I have to stay with you until your father comes home tonight to release us?" He suddenly had a broad grin on his face. "But what would we do, all day long?"
She smiled back at him. "It is nice having you as a guest, but when my father returns he will fly into a terrible rage with you. He will accuse you of soiling his daughter, of dishonouring him and me. He will probably want to kill you."
"Oh, that's alright then. Well we might as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb."
"I am serious. If you saw how angry he got when I simply looked at you on Friday, you would realise what he will be like when he learns you and I have spent all day here, alone. When he is calm, my father wouldn't hurt a fly, but when he is in a rage..."
Michael thought a little. He knew there were plenty of examples of murder in the Asian community because of dishonouring someone's daughter.
"I shall have to sneak out, the same way as I came in. I can hide behind the gate when your father returns - then after he's driven inside, I can nip out."
Safia shook her head. "It won't work. Don't forget the drive is laid with gravel. The moment you start moving, he'll hear you - and his reaction in those circumstances is likely to be even worse than if I can calmly tell him what's happened."
"Then what do I do?"
She suddenly smiled. "I have an idea. Come upstairs with me."
"Now we're talking," Michael said.
"Father is right," she said. "Men do have one-track minds, even when they're facing death."
She paused and added, "But first I will telephone the school to tell them that my son, Michael, is sick and will not be in today. Can I use your mobile?"
"This is my sister, Anika's bedroom," Safia said.
Wow, Michael thought, his tummy doing a cartwheel, this is getting serious. I never really expected her to take me to bed within a few minutes of meeting her. OK, although she was under sixteen, he was just over. That made it all right, didn't it?
"It looks very nice," he said and added with a fit of bravado he wasn't feeling, "Shall I test the bedsprings?"
He sat down heavily on the bed and bounced on it.
"I think my sister has probably already done that," Safia said. "For some reason, she managed to get away with all kinds of things that I cannot. Of course, mother was alive then. She was English and she made father see reason. Now..." She trailed off, lost in thought.
"I'm sorry about your mother," he said, taking her hand, "but I'm sure she would want you to find a nice boy like me and make him happy."
"Don't be silly," she said, shaking his hand off hers. "We haven't come here for that."
"Well, what, then?" he was getting terribly confused, and so was his rock-hard penis. He shuffled, uncomfortably, trying to surreptitiously adjust its position.
"When Anika left home, she left many of her older clothes behind, including her school uniform."
He couldn't work that out. "But why can't you wear your own school uniform?"
"I don't need a school uniform today as I was never intending to go to school. Whereas you were, and although my uniform wouldn't fit you, I'm sure that Anika's would." She opened a wardrobe and rummaged through it until she could pull out a hanger holding a white blouse and black pleated skirt. She tossed them on the bed. "There. What do you think of those?"
"Fit me?" he said. "You're expecting me to wear Anika's school uniform?"
"I'm sure it will work out fine," Safia said. "Father might be a bit annoyed if one of my girl friends from school was passing by and managed to get in as you did, but he wouldn't go into a rage. He wouldn't feel dishonoured."
"So you're suggesting," he said, "that I put on your sister's school uniform and pretend to be a girl? It would never work. Your father would see through me straight away."
It was so embarrassing. Here he was trying to impress the most beautiful girl in the world and here she was, trying to get him to wear girls' clothes.
She tilted her head on one side and smiled at him in a most appealing way.
"Look," he said. "I really don't feel comfortable about this. Surely, if I reason with him it will be alright?"
"Michael, I'm asking this because I thought you rather liked me, and I like you, and I don't want my father to feel, for the rest of his life, that his daughter has been dishonoured. Is it really more than you're prepared to do for me?"
He shrugged. "OK, but I'll feel so stupid wearing girls' clothes."
"I just will."
"Do you think girls look stupid when they wear them?"
"Of course not, but..."
She said the words for him. "That's different?"
"Only because you think you'll look like a boy wearing girls' clothes. If you looked like a girl wearing girls' clothes, you wouldn't look stupid. Right?"
"Well, yes, but I don't see how that can be."
"We'll have to do a few things," she said. "You can shave your legs and I could wash and style your hair, and put on a little makeup. I think you'll be fine. Please Michael."
For some reason, a surge of excitement went through his body, which was nothing to do with being alone with Safia. He should be shocked, even disgusted at her suggestion - instead something inside him was urging him to go ahead. But he knew he must not appear too keen so he gave another shrug and said, "I've already said yes. So do your worst."
She gave him a ladies' razor and made him go to the bathroom and shave his legs. "And don't forget to shave your face as well." Fortunately, he was still only shaving occasionally so he didn't have any stubble.
It took ages to get all the hairs off his legs, but when he'd done so, they were a real surprise. He was amazed how sexy they were - he had to admit to himself they looked like most girls' legs. She'd given him a pair of white cotton panties to put on but he still had a huge erection - indeed, it seemed to have got harder since admiring his legs - so he used the trick he sometimes used at home, filled the washbasin with cold water, and dunked his testicles into it. It was rather painful, but everything rapidly shrivelled. He pulled up the panties and then pushed his tackle between his legs and pulled them up even tighter. It felt a bit uncomfortable, but at least it looked respectable. He only hoped everything would stay like that.
"I'm decent," he called, and she came into the bathroom.
She looked his near naked body up and down - it was sufficient to make his cock start to get hard again. Thank heavens it was constrained by the panty, he thought.
"I'm going to wash and style your hair now, so sit on the stool and make yourself comfortable."
He grimaced, but did as she said.
Forty minutes later, he stared critically into the mirror at the person facing him in white school blouse and black pleated skirt, with white ankle socks and black Mary Jane shoes. Putting on the blouse had been fine - it was not dissimilar to the white shirt he wore for school, except it buttoned on the opposite side, but the skirt was different. For one thing, it was far shorter than the SIGHS regulation knee-length.
"Anika always shortened her skirt as much as she could get away with," Safia said, noticing where he was staring in the mirror. "She was always getting told off for her short skirts."
"Couldn't I wear one of yours?" he asked. "If the wind blows, everyone will see up my skirt. They'll see my panties." Actually, it wasn't his panties he was worried about; it was his enormous erection which by now, must surely be reaching halfway down to his knees as it forced itself against the panties.
"My skirts are too slim around the waist," she said. "They won't fit you. In any case, we're not going outside. There won't be any wind." Rather unwisely, she added, "Not until you go home, anyway."
His stomach did a complete somersault. "What do you mean, when I go home? I'll need to change back into my clothes before..." His voice faded as he worked through the logistics of leaving the house.
"I'll have to go home in a girl's uniform? No! No way! I can't do it. It's a stupid..."
"Schh," Safia said. "It's alright. I have it all worked out. To walk home from here, you'd turn left out of our gate and then go along the footpath through the woods. Right?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"You'll have your own school uniform in your bag. As soon as you get into the woods, get well away from the footpath and change back into your own clothes. I'll give you some wipes to clean the make up from your face, and you'll have to try to flatten your hair as best you can. But you can always say you were experimenting with a different hair style. Talking your way out of a skirt would be more of a problem.
He thought through her plan and nodded. "I suppose it will work. But it will be a bit scary, getting changed in the woods. Suppose someone sees?"
"Make certain no one sees."
Again he nodded. "I suppose so." Fortunately, the distraction had served to slightly take the edge off his erection, but as soon as he realised that, the hardness came back again with a vengeance. Constrained by the soft material of the panties, it surely felt the same as being inside a girl's...
"How confident do you feel now, about looking like a girl?" Safia asked.
He took another glance in the mirror. In spite of the short length of his skirt, it wasn't possible to see his cock poking beneath the hem. Thank God! He took another look at himself and said, "Safia, the hair and make up are fantastic, but it's just as I said, I still look like a boy dressed as a girl. I'm sorry, it's not going to work." Mind, he'd look even more like a boy if she could see his cock poking out beneath the skirt.
"What do you think is still wrong?"
"I'm just the wrong shape." That was one way of putting it.
"Yes," she said, "You are right. You need a little help with your shape. Anika also thought she was the wrong shape, and she got something to help her. I think she's left it here." She opened one of the drawers and reached inside.
"There," she said, tossing something onto the bed which looked like... It couldn't be. She'd thrown a pair of tits onto the bed.
"It's called a Bustlet," she said. "My sister was paranoid about her small breasts so she wore this to make them appear much larger. I think it will be right for you, too. Fortunately, she took after our mother rather than father, so her skin tone was light, like yours."
The sight terrified him. The breasts were huge, like those of his aunt who always wore low-cut tops. He never knew which way to look - on the one hand, he was fascinated by them; on the other, he was incredibly embarrassed. One of the reasons he was so smitten with Safia was for her wonderfully slim breasts which he could glance at without it being obvious.
He reached out and gingerly picked up the thing from the bed. He'd expected it to feel like plastic - instead it felt just like real skin. Not only did it feel like skin, but the breasts wobbled, in the same way as his aunt's when she moved. He shivered slightly, and his cock, damn it, quivered in anticipation.
"Your sister wore this?"
"Yes," she said. "Did any of your friends realise?"
Anika must have been five years older than him, but he could still remember the older boys at his school talking about her fantastic tits. There'd sometimes be half a dozen boys jerking off behind the groundsman's hut, all shouting 'Anika, Anika!' and seeing who could ejaculate first. Hell, if only he could jerk off now.
"I don't really remember anyone saying anything about her," he said.
"Before you slip into it," she said, "you have to spread gel over your upper body. Apparently, it cuts down the sweat from forming beneath. Now, take off your blouse."
Thank God she hadn't told him to remove his skirt. That was the only thing protecting him from total embarrassment. He removed his blouse and she slipped on a disposable plastic glove, and dipped her hand into a large plastic pot of the gel and started to smear it over him.
It felt so erotic! His cock got harder still as her hand slid around his neck, over his shoulders and down over his nipples. He gritted his teeth, willing himself not to ejaculate, and as she turned her attention to his back, it seemed as though he might succeed.
She pulled of the glove and picked up the Bustlet, and held it before him, the neck slightly stretched so his head could go through the hole.
Seconds later, he'd fed his arms and neck through the holes in the shoulders and she had pulled the Bustlet as far down his chest as it would go. He opened his eyes, peered down, and saw...
An incredible pair of tits!
He had tits!
He shook his head and his tits wobbled. Not only could he see them wobble, but unbelievably he could feel them wobble. He wobbled them again, and again he could feel them.
"It's weird," he said. "It's like I can feel them moving."
"They have something called Sensotouch," she said. "Anika had a remote control to alter their sensitivity, but I think she's taken that with her, so it will have to stay as it is. Keep still for a second and I'll wipe off the excess gel from the edges."
She took a wet wipe and first wiped away the excess gel from his neckline, then the armholes and finally, she placed a hand on his left breast and lifted it so she could wipe away the gel from beneath.
"Agghh!" he gasped. The feelings that shot through him as she brushed against his nipple were incredible.
"Soon be done," she said, then she did the same for his right breast.
That was when the orgasm hit him, and he felt his prick jerking as it started to shoot semen into his panties.
"Sorry. Is it a bit painful with the Sensotouch?" She had noticed the look on his face and thankfully misinterpreted it.
"Just a bit," he gasped, "and not painful exactly, just different."
"Sorry," she repeated.
"That's OK," he said, praying that she wouldn't notice the smell of his semen, which now filled his panties.
Thankfully, she turned around and started rummaging through Anika's drawers, so he was saved having to explain his plight. He could feel it was a complete mess inside his panties. He felt rather depressed after his orgasm, as he tended to be after masturbating.
"Here you are," she said, turning around and thrusting something white at him. "I think this bra will fit."
"You want me to wear a bra!" How had he got into this mess? He thought he'd coped superbly with wearing the white panties, the blouse, the ankle length white socks, even with wearing the short skirt, but to wear a girl's bra would be the height of embarrassment - all those hooks and eyes and straps. What would his mates say if they found out? On the other hand, he felt incredibly excited by the idea.
"Of course," she said. "You can hardly appear in front of my father with boobs flopping about like that without a bra."
His cock was getting hard again at the very idea of wearing a bra, but he must keep up the pretence. "But a bra is so... girly," he said.
"You have quite large breasts. What could be more girly than that?"
He stared down at his breasts and amid all the stickiness, he felt his cock getting harder and harder. This was so embarrassing. Another shrug and his breasts gave another wobble. Hell at least the bra would stop them wobbling like that.
"Can you help me put it on?" he capitulated
She smiled at him and held it out for him to slip his arms into it. She touched his breasts again - already he'd come to think of them as his breasts - but thankfully his cock didn't react. Then she was pulling it tight around his back and his boobs pushed upward and together giving him a deep cleavage.
"Much better," she said, eyeing him up and down. "Slip your blouse back on and we'll look at the overall effect."
But he was staring downwards, and then at himself in the mirror.
"Hell, they're enormous," he said. "The bra has made them even bigger."
"It's shaped them and given you a nice cleavage," she said. "Now slip your blouse back on."
He put the blouse back on and nervously did up the buttons, pulling the blouse tight across his breasts. His cock was going into overdrive again.
"Leave the top buttons undone," Safia commanded. "I know it's against school regs but everyone does it - at least on the way to and from school."
He stared into the mirror. He had the most fantastic tits pushing out his blouse.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I don't think I'll be mistaken for a boy now," he said.
He was amazed to see Safia shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "You are still the wrong shape."
He stared again into the mirror at his wonderful breasts. "They're the wrong shape?" he repeated. "They look just like the real thing." Certainly, they looked better than his aunt's enormous breasts.
"No, no," Safia said. "I mean that you are still the wrong shape. You look like a broomstick with breasts. Look," she paused, suddenly uncertain, "promise me you will never tell anyone what I am about to tell you."
"Of course not." As though he could ever tell anyone about what had happened today.
"At one time, Anika agreed to marry Haresh, and it was very important to him that she was a virgin." She smiled. "It used to be the case that once virginity was taken it couldn't be put back, but that was before the days of Big Busts."
"I thought women had always had big busts," Michael said.
"No," Safia said. "The company who make the Bustlet are called Big Busts. They also make something called a Hiplet which can give a woman back her virginity."
"I don't really understand," he said.
She smiled. "Of course you don't," she said. "Men are not supposed to understand. But today you are a girl, so you are allowed into the secret." She opened another of Anika's drawers and pulled out what appeared to be a flesh-coloured control brief, made of the same realistic material as the Bustlet.
Until she dropped it onto the bed!
Michael gasped. It had dark pubic hair and, just discernable beneath the hair, a slit. He flushed with embarrassment.
"It's alright," Safia said. "Today you are an honorary girl so you are allowed to look. In fact, you must go to the bathroom and put it on."
"But surely it won't fit a man?" Michael said.
"Anika told me it would," she said, "although I cannot understand why that would be. Anyway, you must try your best." She held the garment up before him. "You can see how there is padding in the hips and bottom to make a woman look wider. Again, I cannot understand why a woman would want that; I suppose it's to show she has wide hips capable of bearing strong children. But wider hips will balance out your shape - stop you looking so top heavy. Take the gel with you and smear it all over before pulling on the Hiplet."
He went to the bathroom, as directed, and after removing his skirt, shoes and socks, took the opportunity to carefully pull down his soiled panties and fold them to safely contain the semen inside. There was a laundry basket in the bathroom and he slipped it in there.
After washing and drying his penis, he looked carefully at the inside of the Hiplet. There was a fastening at the rear between the vagina and the hole for the arse to do its business. Once he'd discovered how to release it, the vagina hung free and he could carefully inspect the inside. He wasn't certain how a woman would wear it, but Safia had been right, there was a place for a penis and testicles and it was clear they would be squeezed between his legs, in the same way they had been beneath his panties. A soft hymen at the entrance to the vagina prevented him exploring inside, but clearly, there was some kind of passage, although whether it could take a man's cock, he was doubtful.
He smeared the red gel all over his upper legs, hips and buttocks, deciding to leave his genitals to the last minute. He pulled the Hiplet over his feet and right up to his waist. Looking in the mirror, he could see how it ballooned out his hips and bum, which together with his big boobs, gave him a very female figure. Apart, that is, from his prick standing stiffly to attention in front of him.
He used the cold water treatment again to bring it down to size, and then quickly dried it and smeared the gel all over, apart from the head of his prick. Then he slipped them inside the pocket behind the gusset of the Hiplet, and pulled it back between his legs and clipped it into place. Another look in the mirror had him gasping with astonishment. No trace of the sixteen-year-old boy remained.
In his place, was a girl in a white school blouse which bulged out around her large breasts, with a deep cleavage observable through the gap at the top of her blouse. Without her skirt, the girl's pussy was on blatant display. Michael suddenly felt extremely exposed and he hurriedly bent over, picked up the skirt, stepped into it and fastened it around his waist.
"Are you going to take all day?" Safia's voice came through the door.
"I'll be right out," he said. He hurriedly pulled on his white socks, and stepped into his shoes and fastened them. Then he unlocked the door and said, "There. What do you think?"
"Michelle," Safia said with a grin, "I think you look very pretty."
Why did he feel so pleased at such a compliment? Boys shouldn't do that, should they? And they really shouldn't feel elated about being called a girl's name!
He felt incredibly nervous as Safia gave him basic instructions upon how girls walk, talk and sit. For one thing, he hadn't confessed to making the mess in his panties, and so he wasn't wearing anything underneath his skirt. Even without that problem, he found the fresh air around his legs was both stimulating and scary - add to it that there was nothing covering his pussy and bottom, and it was terrifyingly exhilarating. It was certainly sufficient incentive to ensure he always kept his legs closed as he sat down!
But he also felt incredibly self-conscious about the size of his boobs. It was all right for Safia; she had wonderfully slim boobs whose tops didn't wobble with every slight movement. Something as simple as a shrug would send the upper parts of his breasts quivering like jellies, even with the support of the bra.
And they stuck out so far. Oh, it was fine whilst it was just Safia there, but as soon as her father came through the door, he knew his eyes would lock onto his boobs and be transfixed. As for the walk out of the gates and along the road as far as the woods, he was bound to attract attention from every passing car - and many of those might be his friends on their way home from school. Even worse was the thought that some might be cycling home or even walking past the gate!
"For heavens' sake calm down," Safia said for the tenth time. "You look like a girl, you can walk like a girl, and you can even talk like a girl. There's nothing to worry about."
She was certainly right about all three. He'd rehearsed and rehearsed the best way to keep his voice soft, whilst allowing it to become more animated than normal. The walk was fine, and with his new body shape, no one could confuse him with a girl. Only...
"I've got an idea," Safia said, after lunch. "We'll go outside and play a game of tennis." She had already pointed out the tennis court as she'd walked him around the gardens earlier on.
"But I haven't got any tennis kit," he said, aghast that his panty-free pussy would be exposed at the first serve.
"That's alright," she said. "Anika has some very pretty tennis dresses."
"A tennis dress!" He pretended to be shocked, but inside he was both terrified and excited by the thought of wearing a pretty tennis dress. He really shouldn't feel that way, he told himself, but could not explain why he did.
She took him back to Anika's bedroom and quickly produced a beautiful tennis dress with, joy of joys, some matching frilly panties. She also found some socks and tennis shoes, which he guessed would more or less fit.
"Let me wipe off your make up," she said, picking up a wipe. "Otherwise, it will get awfully messy when you start to sweat. Are you all right getting changed, or do you need some help."
"No, I'll be fine," he said, then hesitated, "Do I need a... you know... a sports bra?" Even now, he still felt embarrassed in saying the word.
"Anika never bothered," Safia said, as she removed the make up from his face. "After all, it wasn't as though it was her own breasts bouncing around and banging against each other."
"No, I suppose not," he said.
"OK, I'll go to my room and get changed. Come there if you finish first."
"Right," he said.
As soon as she had gone, he slipped the panties on. Even if she came straight back now he wouldn't have to admit how he'd soiled his original pair. After that, it was a simple job to remove his school uniform and pull the white tennis dress over his head. It took him ages to do up the rear zip, but he eventually managed. Then he put on the socks and tennis shoes.
A glance in the mirror had him gulping at the way the front dipped to expose his deep cleavage. Thank heavens that Safia was the only person around.
He left Anika's bedroom and went across to knock on the door of Safia's.
"Come in," she bade.
He did so and the sight of Safia's pert, naked breasts made him gulp even more. "Er, sorry," he said. "I did knock..."
"That's all right," she grinned. "I asked you to come in because I'm having trouble fixing my sports bra. The hooks don't appear to line up properly with the eyes. Do you think you could do it up for me?"
"Er, right," he said.
"It's all right," she said. "We're all girls together, now. We don't worry about seeing each other naked."
"Right," he repeated, and then added, "I can see there are real perks to being a girl."
She grinned back at him. "You bet. It's a shame you can't come to school and go into the school showers."
It was a good job his penis was well and truly hidden beneath the Hiplet, otherwise he would have ejaculated on the spot.
She found him a tennis racket and some balls and they went outside to the tennis court. "You need to be careful how you talk out here," she said in a low voice. "There's only a hedge separates us from the neighbour, and if old Mr Walters is out in the garden, he'll hear every word we say."
"I'll be careful," he promised. "At least the hedge is so thick they can't see me."
"Not from the garden," Safia said. "But as soon as he hears us playing, Mr Walters will go upstairs to his bedroom and watch us play."
"You mean he'll be looking at our panties when we bend over?" he said, unable to keep the horror out of his voice. "Have you reported him to the police?"
"Don't be silly," she said. "It's not illegal to look out of your bedroom window. In any case, it's what men do all the time. You just have to get used to it."
They knocked a ball between them a few times, before Safia quietly said, "You cannot see him from where you are, but Mr Walters is now in position in his bedroom window, so make certain you show him your panties."
Michael grimaced with embarrassment. "I don't think I can go on," he said. "It's just too humiliating."
Safia grinned at him. "Don't be silly. Let's start playing a game. That will take your mind off it. You are the visitor, so you should serve first."
Knowing he was a pretty good player, he courteously suggested she should go first but she was insistent, so he planned to give her a fairly gentle first serve.
Everything went wrong. His weight had completely changed, as had his equilibrium, so his whole body moved differently. Added to that, his stupid boobs got in the way of his serve, and kept on moving long after he had stopped, putting him off balance to prepare for his next shot. By the time he'd got himself together, the ball was bouncing on the court on his far left, and then smacking against the wire netting.
"Love - 15," Safia said with a grin, promptly followed by: "Love - 30;" "Love - 40;" "Game Safia."
The first set was a walkover, and as they had a short break she gave him another of her wonderful grins. "I'd heard you were pretty good at school, but not quite good enough for a SIGHS girl, ay?"
"It's the boobs," he protested. "It makes everything different."
"We have to play with them all the time," she said, and quietly added, "and don't forget our neighbours are probably listening."
"The next set will be different," he promised, and actually, it was.
He'd got used to his new weight distribution and his bouncing boobs, and he just managed to get ahead and win the set.
He was doing well in the third set, as well, until he won a tough point, to hear clapping from the side. They both turned towards the source to see a man - obviously Safia's father - standing there, watching them, looking at Michael with a quizzical look upon his face.
"Hi," Safia called. "This is Michelle, from school."
Michael made as though to walk over to him, but he waved her back. "Carry on. Carry on," he said. "Enjoy your game. We can talk afterwards."
Safia continued to enjoy her game, but Michael went to pieces. By now, he'd got used to Mr Walters peering at them from his bedroom window, but it was different for a man to be standing so close, watching him play, whilst he was wearing a tennis dress with frilly panties, and with large breasts which joggled with every movement he made. Gradually, Safia regained the lead and went on to win the match.
Finally, they were both walking towards Mr Hussein, with Michael definitely lagging behind. He certainly didn't want to try to explain his position to him.
As she approached her father, Safia said, "Father, this is my friend Michelle Barker from school. She was passing by the house when you left in such a hurry, and she thought she would pop in to see how I was. She didn't realise the security gate would close behind her and trap her here all day long."
Mr Hussein's face which had been looking quizzical turned to one of concern. "You have been trapped here all day long through my own carelessness? That is terrible. I am most sorry. I must ring your school and apologise..." He shook his head. "This is awful. I shall have to explain..."
"I have already telephoned the school and told them that my daughter, Michelle, is sick," Safia broke in with a smile.
"Safia, you shouldn't lie - even if it is to prevent your father's embarrassment." He smiled. "But thank you all the same."
He turned to Michael. "I presume that Safia has told you why she is being kept indoors?"
Michael nodded. "Yes, she told me you were both at loggerheads over an arranged marriage." He was quite pleased at the way he said his first words to someone who didn't know his secret. Clearly, Mr Hussein didn't suspect a thing.
"No doubt you support Safia?" He gesticulated for them all to start walking towards the house.
As they walked, Michael considered. His mother always told him never to tell someone they were wrong - instead tell them how you felt about it. "I think Safia should go to school. My mother would be angry if she discovered I had missed only one day."
Mr Hussein nodded. "You mean I have let my own stubbornness get in the way of my daughter's education?"
"Safia may disagree with you, but she respects you. She wouldn't let me telephone my mum to tell her I was trapped here."
He nodded again. "She is a good girl, even though she smiles at boys too readily. But then I suppose most modern girls do. Is that right?"
"Girls do smile a lot more than boys," Michael said, "but they smile at both boys and girls." Damn! He'd used 'they' to talk about girls. He'd have to watch that in future. In fact, Mr Hussein was staring at him with a strange look. Oh sh..."
"Do you have a relative at the boys' school?" he asked. "Only you look remarkably like the boy Safia was smiling at last Friday."
"That's Michelle's cousin, Father," Safia answered. "Michelle came to tell me that Michael was asking about me at school."
"There you are," he retorted, suddenly angry again. "You smile at him and he immediately wants to take you to his bed."
"My mum says that all men want to get a girl into bed," Michael said, "but the girl doesn't have to go." She hadn't really, but he thought it was the sort of thing she might have said if he'd been a girl.
Mr Hussein smiled again. "Your mother is very wise," he said. "Safia's mother also was very wise, but unfortunately she is not with us now."
"I'm sorry," Michael said. "It must be horrible when that happens. My mother and father divorced and that was bad enough."
They had reached the house, and Mr Hussein held open the door for Michael and Safia to pass through. It was the first time an adult had done that for Michael and he felt self conscious as he entered, suddenly aware of his wobbling breasts. He'd forgotten all about them until now, except as an impediment to good tennis.
Mr Hussein smiled, breaking the slight pause. "Safia tells me I should remember how her mother would have dealt with things."
It was Michael's turn to smile. "Such as not forcing Safia into an arranged marriage?" He couldn't believe he'd said that. As Michael, he'd never have dared to make such a challenging statement to one of his friend's parents. But taking on the persona of Michelle somehow seemed to make it all right. He didn't understand why, but he knew he could get away with saying things that Michael never would.
He was right, for Mr Hussein smiled and said, "Yes. Safia's mother had a hatred of arranged marriages. I know many English think it is a barbaric custom, but it is our culture."
"We English also have problems with changing culture," Michael said. "Every time I go to see my one grandmother she's asking me how to do things on her computer. But when I visit my other grandmother, she's complaining about everything being on the internet and how much better things were in the 1950s. My mum says we can't hang on to the past, no matter how attractive it might be." He was both pleased and surprised at his words. Usually he had trouble collecting together his thoughts to produce a single sentence. But as Michelle, it seemed he was capable of greater things.
"But your country is riddled with tradition," Mr Hussein said. "Would you get rid of it all?"
Michael couldn't believe it. He was arguing with a grown up and enjoying it. Of course, he'd had arguments with his parents about all sorts of things, but they were anything but enjoyable. And if you ever argued with a teacher, you'd be in trouble. Now, Mr Hussein showed no signs of anger at his words.
"We have got rid of all kinds of traditions which subjugate women," Michael said. "Women are the equal of men, not chattels to be traded in an arranged marriage."
"Father," Safia broke, "we really need to be showering and getting changed if Michelle is to return home at her usual time."
"Of course," he said, "but I can run her home in the car."
Michael's heart leapt into his mouth, but Safia had a ready response. "I don't think Michelle should be seen arriving home in the car of a strange man," she said.
"Of course," he repeated, "I understand. As you wish." He stood aside so they could go upstairs, and Michael was suddenly aware of his frilly panties which Mr Hussein would see if he glanced upwards. There was no way he could hide them, so he ran quickly up the stairs, realising halfway up that his boobs were positively bouncing around. A girl simply could not win!
"Thanks for speaking up for me," Safia said. "I couldn't believe it that father didn't get angry at the things you said. I thought I'd better break it up before it went too far. Now, are you all right to take a shower? Let's fetch your school uniform from Anika's room - then you can get dressed straightaway."
"Could I wear another of Anika's bras?" Michael asked, adding, "and some more panties?"
Safia didn't even query it, and seconds later, Michael was locking the door to the bathroom and peeling off his clothes to reveal the shape of the curvy girl beneath. He still didn't understand why he felt thrilled rather than horrified to have the shape of a girl. In fact, he felt that if he only had the same-sized pert breasts as Safia, he'd be perfectly happy with his shape. Having huge wobbling breasts like these was just ridiculous.
He decided to remove the Bustlet and the Hiplet for his shower; he could slip them back on again before getting dressed. But the catch between his legs, which had been so easy to snap open and shut before, obstinately refused to come undone. He tried for several minutes before switching his attention to the Bustlet. It was impossible to slip even a nail under the edge of the Bustlet; it appeared to be glued firmly to his skin.
He became more and more frantic as he tried all around the edge of the Bustlet.
He opened the bathroom door and shouted, "Safia."
Only then did he realise he could see straight across the landing and through the open door into Mr Hussein's bedroom. He was in there, and although he had his back to the bathroom, he was looking at himself in the mirror, and Michael could see his own naked reflection in there alongside Mr Hussein's startled face!
"I'm sorry," he said, quickly closing the door, his cheeks turning blood red with embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid? What must Mr Hussein think of him?
There was a knock on the bathroom door and Safia's voice said, "Did you want me, Michelle?"
"Yes." He pulled open the door again and let Safia in. He was too embarrassed to mention revealing his all in front of Mr Hussein, so he launched straight into the real problem. "I can't seem to remove the Bustlet or Hiplet."
Safia looked puzzled. "Really? Anika used to take her Bustlet off every night and she never had any trouble." She lifted a hand to Michael's rib cage and tried to insert a nail beneath the edge of the Bustlet, just as Michael had done. "Hmm. It seems very firmly stuck. I'd better go find the instruction manual and see what it says. In the meantime, you can shower without removing them. I suggest you do that and then put on your school uniform. I'll see you later."
Safia wasn't in her bedroom when Michael returned to her room, dressed in school blouse and skirt, so he made his way downstairs to the lounge where Safia was giving her father a cuddle.
"Great news," she told him. "I've asked father if you can sleepover tonight, and he's agreed. That is, if you want to." She gave him a wink.
"Oh! Er, that's very kind, especially as I'm a bit of an embarrassment to you and your father. Perhaps I'd really better get home..."
"Don't be silly." Safia went over to him, took him by the arm, and pulled him out of the lounge and through to the kitchen.
"There's a slight problem in getting the Bustlet and Hiplet off," she whispered, "so I've fixed this to give us some time. Now, please telephone your mother and tell her you're staying here - on second thoughts, perhaps you'd better tell her you're staying with one of your other friends, as she doesn't really know me."
The implication of Safia's offer suddenly hit him. "You mean you want me to spend the night here - with you? Only I have to pretend to be a girl?"
She smiled. "Yes, I do want you to spend the night here, but I'm afraid it will be strictly as a girl. I telephoned Anika whilst you were in the shower. It appears I should have given you a green gel to spread over your skin. Instead I gave you the red which lasts for much longer."
"You mean I'm going to have to wear this all night?"
"Rather longer than that," she said. "I'm afraid it's a semi-permanent adhesive which will last until your top layer of skin is shed, which will probably be in about two weeks' time."
"Two weeks? You mean I'm a girl for the next two weeks?"
"I'm afraid so,"
"But what am I going to do?"
"Let's sort out tonight first. Telephone your mother and explain about the sleepover. We can then think about how to deal with the two weeks. Anika says you could stay with her, but she lives in London now, and your mother may not be happy with that."
Safia left him to make the call.
"Hello love. I expected you to get home before me today, since it's the last day of term."
"I've been round at a friend's house. Mum, I've been asked if I want to do a sleepover - is that alright?"
"Are you at Gavin's? Is it alright with his mother?"
"It's the father, actually, and he's fine."
"Oh. I didn't know Gavin's father still lived with them."
"Well... It's not actually Gavin. It's another friend."
"Are you going to tell me which one or do I have to go through the whole class?"
"Well, actually it's Safia. Safia Hussein."
"That's the girl from SIGHS you were making eyes at during the University Challenge? I thought her father kept her more securely locked away from males than were the women in Holloway Prison."
"Well, he's letting me stay the night."
"That's very good of him. I'd better have a word with him and thank him for having you."
"Well, it's a bit awkward at the moment. He's... he's gone out."
She was suddenly suspicious. "Is it awkward or has he gone out? Because I can always call back later."
"Well... it's awkward. Look, Mum, it's really better if you simply trust me."
"Michael, I'd trust you with anything on earth - except a fifteen-year old girl. You're both too young, and in her case, she's not yet reached the age of consent."
"Well nothing like that is going to happen with Mr Hussein around." In fact, regardless of Mr Hussein's presence, nothing could happen whilst he was wearing the Hiplet.
"I'll say one last thing. If, in spite of what I've said, you do have sex with her then use a condom or I shall murder you. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"
As Mrs Barker put the phone down, she wondered whether she was doing the right thing. Why didn't Michael want her to talk to Mr Hussein? She shook her head, puzzled, and then her heart gave a little skip as she turned her mind to other things. She picked up the phone again and dialled.
"Hello, Peter? It's Sarah Barker. I wondered if that offer of a date tonight was still open? Only Michael has just telephoned to say he's staying the night with a school friend, so it appears I now have a gap in my diary."
She listened and smiled. "That's great. So, pick me up at about seven?"
She listened some more. "Great."
Immediately after Michael disconnected the call to his mother, his mobile rang.
"Hi, Mike. It's Gavin. Where were you today?"
Hi Gav. Something a bit awkward came up and I had to take the day off school."
"Like?" Gavin asked.
"It's a bit difficult explaining over the phone."
"OK, you can tell me when I come round to your house, tomorrow."
"Er, well, no. You can't come round tomorrow, Gav."
"I can't! But we had it all worked out. What's the problem?"
"As I said, it's difficult explaining over the phone. Look Gav, I have to go now. I'll call you in a few days time. Bye."
Michael rapidly ended the call, and then switched off his mobile. Inventing some kind of excuse for Gavin was the least of his problems at the moment. He took a deep breath, then went to find Mr Hussein in the lounge.
"My mother asks me to thank you very much for allowing me to sleepover," Michelle said to him.
"I'm only too happy," Mr Hussein said, thinking how he would never allow Safia to stay with a school friend, without at least speaking to the parent and ensuring there were no boys in the house. Indeed, he'd have put down his foot if he'd discovered that only the father was present.
It was even worse because Michelle was obviously so much more sexually developed than Safia. Any man would lust after her, and he couldn't deny that he'd been entranced as soon as he saw her boobs bouncing around on the tennis court. As for that moment when she'd put her head - not to say the rest of her voluptuous body - around the edge of the bathroom door, it had taken all his powers of self-control not to leap on top of her! It had been well worth waiting for those five minutes, carefully positioned in front of the bedroom mirror, in the hope of the merest glimpse.
"Michelle, I have to thank you," he said. No, he couldn't thank her for the sight of her splendid body, but there was something else that was actually more important. "Your presence here has meant that Safia and I have been able to make up over our ridiculous argument. We still disagree, but at least we can talk about it properly, without simply shouting at each other."
"Oh!" He felt so pleased. An adult had never complimented him in that way before. "Well I haven't really done very much - just been a sort of referee."
"To properly thank you, and to apologise to Safia for my part of the argument, I suggest we all go out to a restaurant tonight. The Kashmir in the town centre serves excellent food. Are you agreed?"
"That sounds wonderful, Father," Safia said, turning to Michael and adding, "The Kashmir is the best Pakistani restaurant for miles."
"Go out!" Michael said, full of horror. "But I can't go out."
"I suppose you're worried you have nothing to wear," Safia said. "It's no problem." She turned to her father. "I'm sure the clothes that Anika left behind would fit Michelle. Can we go up and try them on?"
"I was thinking exactly the same," Mr Hussein said. "Show Michelle to Anika's bedroom and help her chose something that will look good on her.
"She has left behind lots of her clothes," he added to Michael. "There will be plenty of things for you to wear."
Safia took him by the hand and said, "Come with me."
Michael allowed himself to be led upstairs.
"I can't go out dressed as a girl!"
"You mean because you'll look stupid?"
"Yes. Of course."
"But we've already been through that argument. As long as you don't look like a boy dressed as a girl, you won't look stupid."
"But the Kashmir is a very popular restaurant. Lots of my friends go there with their parents - especially today as it's the end of term."
"Michelle," she said, "let us just do the same as we did earlier on. We'll find some of Anika's clothes and you can put them on, and only if we both believe you look like a girl will we show my father. If you pass his inspection at close range, then you will certainly pass in front of anyone who may see you across a dimly lit restaurant."
"But nothing. Now, let us select you a pretty dress."
"A dress? But why can't I wear jeans?"
"Because I don't think Anika's jeans or trousers will fit you properly around the bum - she didn't normally wear the Hiplet, remember - but, I'm sure the dresses will fit superbly. Look, let me select a few and you can try them on."
She made him take off his school blouse, skirt, shoes and socks. He stood before her in bra and panties, shivering slightly, shivers which had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the excitement running through him at the thought of putting a dress onto his girl-like body, and going out in public to a restaurant frequented by many of his friends' families. It was absolutely crazy! He should make an excuse; but the thrill inside him kept him from speaking.
Safia pulled several dresses from Anika's wardrobe and laid them out on the bed
"Which one do you prefer?"
He stared at them - brightly coloured red and blue dresses, as well as white and black ones. None of them looked the kind that a girl like Safia would wear. No, these would be worn by the kind of sexy bombshell that terrified him.
"Haven't you got something a little more demure?" he asked. "I'd feel uncomfortable in those."
Safia laughed. "Anika didn't do demure, and with your curvy body, I don't think you can either. Now which is it to be: red, blue, white, or the little, black dress?"
He chose the black dress as he thought it would make him less conspicuous, and he was pleased when Safia said that was a good choice.
She rummaged through the drawers some more and said, "Slip off your panties and we'll put you into these slinky tights." She held out the shiny black tights before him and he shivered some more.
She laughed and said, "You're actually enjoying this as much as I am, aren't you?"
"No," he said, and then added, "Well, it's frightening and thrilling at the same time. I guess it's the same as climbing a mountain."
She laughed and said. "Except that what you're doing is braver than mountain climbing. How many male mountain climbers would have the courage to put on a dress?"
He laughed with her and said, "I can't think of many. Now, can you help me on with these tights?"
She showed him how to bunch up one leg of the tights and then slide his foot into it and pull it part way up his leg, and then to do the same for the other.
"We'll need to change your bra," Safia said, when the tights were up around his waist, and he was staring in the mirror at his even sexier-looking legs, "otherwise with the low neckline on that dress, people will be able to see it."
She found a black one for him, which pushed his breasts up and together even more, and gave him an incredibly deep cleavage. Then Safia was holding out the little, black dress for him to step into.
He did so, and she pulled it up his body and zipped it up at the rear.
"There. What do you think?"
He'd realised the dress was short, but only when he stared in the mirror did he realise why Safia had called it a little, black dress. It only came halfway down to his knees! And at the top, the whole of his plunging cleavage was on display.
"I can't wear this," he said.
"Why?" Safia grinned. "Because people will think you're a boy dressed as a girl?"
"Of course not, but... It's too sexy."
"Don't you see?" she said. "That's how we establish your sex beyond doubt. Oh, you could wear some poorly fitting jeans, and a sloppy sweater, but people might look and wonder which sex you are. No one's going to do that with this dress."
He was forced to agree with that.
"Pop on your panties and that will keep you respectable," Safia said.
"But they're white," he said. "Don't I need black ones? This dress is so short someone might see them if I bend over."
"A girl doesn't bend over for that very reason," she said. "You're not playing tennis. Remember to keep your knees together. And if some man does actually glimpse them, it will give him a little thrill, just as it thrills you to even think about it. And don't try to deny it."
The thoughts tumbling around Michael's head were so complex, he kept quiet rather than trying to explain them. But he had to agree. He was thrilled at the thought of some boy glimpsing his white panties and being turned on by them.
Meanwhile, Safia was on her hands and knees (with her tight little bum pushing out her jeans) rummaging through the bottom of the wardrobe. She pulled out some shoes and said, "There. Aren't they just perfect?"
He stared at the high-heeled, strappy sandals before him, the excitement welling up inside. "But I can't wear high heels," he said. "I'd topple over."
"These aren't very high," she said. "Just a couple of inches. Think yourself lucky you didn't choose the white dress - the shoes to go with that have four-inch heels."
He shook his head, wondering whether it was too late to opt for the white dress. No, that would completely give away his feelings. In any case, far better to start with a more modest heel that he should be able to master. He sat down on the edge of the bed, picked up one of the shoes and tried to slip his foot into it. It was much more difficult than he thought; he had to tilt his foot downwards in order to cope with the heel, and then there was a fiddly strap and buckle which it took him ages to fasten. He was quicker with the other, and then he realised he couldn't stand up.
"Can you help me up," he helplessly asked, holding out his hand to her.
"You have to learn that for yourself," she said. "I can't help you up in the restaurant. Push your weight down through both your heels, and you won't find it difficult."
It wasn't actually, and then he was tottering about a little, trying not to lose his balance.
"Stand up straight and look at a spot in front of you, then walk towards it. Remember to put your weight onto your heels, and try to push your pelvis forward as you walk, and your shoulders back. Now have a little practice along the landing."
He strutted along the landing, waddling his hips as he went. Safia watched him from the bedroom and laughed. Then he turned and realised Mr Hussein was again in his bedroom watching him walk.
"Very good." He was smiling too, and he added, "Are you not used to heels?"
"No," he said, truthfully adding, "My mother doesn't think they're very suitable for me."
Mr Hussein considered and said, "Well, I may be old fashioned in many ways, but I do think heels improve a woman's stance. They make you look very adult."
His words sent another flash of excitement through Michael. Not only was he fooling Mr Hussein into thinking he was a schoolgirl, he was now being looked at as a young woman.
"Thank you," he said. "I'll certainly keep them on."
"That dress fits you very well, also," Mr Hussein said. "I'm sure there are many boys who want to be your friend."
Michael flushed. Thank heavens Mr Hussein didn't know the truth. "Not in that way," he said.
Mr Hussein shook his head. "You amaze me," he said. He raised his voice and called to Safia in Anika's bedroom, "Safia, can we leave in a few minutes?"
"Don't be silly, Father," she said. "I haven't finished getting Michelle ready, and I haven't started on myself, yet."
Michael's father used to get very impatient with his mother before they split up, and he was fearful Mr Hussein would be the same. Instead, he simply grinned, shook his head and said he would book a table for seven pm.
"Well Father," Safia asked, "what do you think of us?"
Safia was wearing a similar kind of dress to Michael's, but with her slim figure and her small breasts just lightly pushing the material into shape, she looked absolutely fantastic. She also had a pendant and hoop earrings which, to Michael, made her look almost like a princess.
"You are both very beautiful," Mr Hussein said. "I shall be very proud to take two attractive ladies to the best restaurant in town." He hesitated a moment and then said, "Safia. I think Michelle would look even better in your mother's diamond earrings and pendant."
"Oh but Father..." Safia started to say.
"No. No," Mr Hussein said, quite firmly. "It's a shame not to get proper use from them, and I have decided that Michelle should wear them tonight. Now, please go and find them."
Safia and Michael looked at each other, and then they both turned and went back upstairs to Mr Hussein's bedroom. Safia opened one of the wardrobes, and Michael could see an electronic safe on the floor, to which Safia bent down and started keying in numbers.
"This is going to be very difficult for you," she said, standing up again with a tray of beautiful, glittering jewellery in her hand. "But I think my father would be very upset if you did not wear it."
"It's no problem," Michael said. "If I wear earrings and a necklace, I may even look half as beautiful as you."
She smiled. "It's not as simple as that," she said. "The problem is that these earrings are for pierced ears."
"Yes. I'm afraid so."
"But... isn't there some way around it?"
She nodded and smiled. "Of course. There is a very simple way around it. I sterilise a needle and pierce both your ears."
"But... Won't it hurt?"
"Not to someone as brave as you."
"And you think your father would be very upset if I refused?"
He shrugged. "OK, you've already had your wicked way with me all day long. I guess this is just one more little thing."
She was lying! It did hurt, but once she'd done his left ear, he didn't have the courage to say he wasn't as brave as she thought.
Five minutes later, the pair of them went downstairs. For Michael, the large diamond pendant felt so good nestling in the valley of his cleavage that the pain of the piercings and the weight of the diamond earrings, which felt heavy enough to pull off his ears, were but a small price to pay.
"There," Mr Hussein said to Safia when he saw Michael, "didn't I say how good Michelle would look if she wore them?"
"Mr Hussein," Michael said. "They are absolutely beautiful. I really can't thank you enough for letting me wear them." It was strange. Never before had he felt jewellery had much value, other than providing a bit of sparkle to a dull outfit. But the diamonds clearly cost thousands of pounds, and he was wearing them and they made him feel so special. He could see why diamonds were a girl's best friend.
"As I said, they are only going to waste if they are kept in the safe. They are meant to make a woman look even more beautiful."
Michael smiled. "Thank you." Afterwards, he couldn't believe he did what he did, but it seemed so natural at the time. Just the kind of thing a girl would do for someone who had loaned her such beautiful objects. She leaned forward and kissed Mr Hussein on the cheek.
"Well done," Safia whispered as they got out of the car next to the Restaurant Kashmir and waited for Mr Hussein to join them. "I knew you were brave, but I never realised just how far you were prepared to go."
"I suppose it's about thinking myself into the role," Michael said.
That's what he'd been telling himself for the last ten minutes, as Mr Hussein had driven them to the restaurant. Why else would he have done such a ridiculous thing? Of course, if he was a teenage girl, it was a natural thing to do, rather than ridiculous. But oh, why oh why was life so complicated?
"Shall we go in," Mr Hussein said as he joined them, and he led the way inside.
It was busy, and as Michael had forecast, a number of boys from his school were there with their parents. Several stared at him as they entered, and Michael knew that exposure was only seconds away. He flushed a deep red as he thought about the names he'd be called, and the continual harassment he'd receive next term. Brave! That's what Safia kept calling him. In fact, he was only in this mess because he was too cowardly to refuse.
"You get used to being looked at by boys," Safia spoke quietly to him as they moved through the tables towards the rear of the restaurant.
Of course, he realised. That's what boys did all the time - they looked at girls, especially girls with big breasts or short skirts, and very particularly at girls who had both. The boys were looking at him, not with a suspicion that he was really a boy, but because they lusted after him! They were looking at his legs and his breasts and dreaming of having sex with him! He felt the excitement coursing through his body that was almost as strong as when he'd ejaculated earlier that day.
Fortunately, they were seated in a kind of alcove at the rear of the restaurant. As they sat down, Michael had a quick scan around to check whether there was anybody who might recognise him, but he realised he was shielded from all the boys who'd been staring at him as they'd entered the restaurant. Thank heavens!
At the next table, were a couple lost in intimate conversation and clearly, they weren't going to pose any threat. He took a more careful look at them just to make certain they wouldn't know him...
"Oh my God!" he thought. "It's Mr Blake."
Mr Blake was Michael's physics teacher, and he had done a lot to coach Michael during the year. As a result, Michael had come to like the subject and enjoy a good relationship with his teacher. He'd almost certainly be recognised if Mr Blake gave him anything more than a quick glance. He could only hope that Mr Blake's attentiveness to the woman continued all through the meal. Michael moved his chair slightly, so that the woman was directly in between him and Mr Blake.
"A menu, madam?" The waiter interrupted his chain of thought and he took the proffered menu and read it for a few seconds, before glancing back towards Mr Blake and his partner.
Amazingly, he realised the woman was very sexy. He'd never appreciated anyone could find his physics teacher attractive, and certainly not someone as striking as this woman. Her hair was the same colour as his mother's, but there the similarity ended. It was piled on top of her head with a diamante clip holding it in place, to expose a long, graceful neck, flanked with matching diamante earrings. Clearly, they were nothing like as expensive as Michael's, but they still gave the woman an air of class.
Like him, she was wearing a black dress. He could see from where he was sitting that it was of respectable length, but there was a slit which went right up the side almost to her hip, exposing black stocking tops beneath. Hell, and he thought he was being daring! He turned his chair away from the pair of them and concentrated again on the menu.
"Tell me, Mr Hussein," he said. "You told me this was a Pakistani restaurant, but I'd always thought it was a..."
"Don't even think the words!" Mr Hussein broke in. He had a smile, which took the edge off an underlying tension, but it was clear Michael was stepping into dangerous territory.
"Kashmir really belongs to Pakistan," Safia explained, "but India disputes that and claims it for its own. It is a source of great anger for us, and causes further instability in an area which already has tremendous problems."
"I'm sorry, Mr Hussein," Michael said. "No one has explained that to me before. I shall make certain in future that I call it a Pakistani restaurant."
Mr Hussein smiled. "You are a good girl, Michelle. It is clear you have your own opinions, but you are careful not to hurt those who have different views."
The waiter came then to take their order, and Michael had to hurriedly read the menu as he'd hardly looked at it until then.
"It's very complicated," he said. If he'd been with his mother, she'd have helped him choose, so it seemed only natural to look at Mr Hussein and ask him. Only how would a girl put the question? "Do you think you could recommend something?" he asked.
Mr Hussein smiled. "Of course. Now are you feeling hungry? Do you like spicy food?"
The three of them had an extremely enjoyable meal. Safia and her father were clearly delighted to be back on speaking terms, and Michael was in heaven to be in Safia's presence. He knew he should have been upset that all day long it had been a girl to girl relationship, but in fact he'd enjoyed being a girl! How weird was that? And not just enjoyed, but been absolutely exhilarated by it.
"Waiter. Could I have the bill, please?" As he heard Mr Blake's words, he realised he was going to be in trouble. The classy woman had disappeared to the toilet a few minutes ago, and he could hear the scrape of Mr Blake's chair as he stood up. Any second now, he'd be moving round the table towards the exit, to bring him face to face with Michael.
There was no way out, he realised. Any movement he made now would only draw more attention to him, and without Mr Blake's girlfriend to keep him occupied, exposure was inevitable.
"I need to go to the toilet," Safia said. He wasn't certain whether she had recognised his plight and thought this was the only way out, or she really did want to go. But if he went with her, it wasn't going to stop Mr Blake from immediately spotting him.
"Your bill, sir."
"Oh, thank you," Mr Blake said, and then, "Ooh! That's rather pricy."
"Is there a problem, sir?" the waiter asked.
It was Michael's chance. "Yes, I want to go, too," he softly said, quickly standing up and following Safia towards the Ladies' toilets. He'd never been in a Ladies' toilet before, but he guessed he'd manage, somehow, as long as he didn't try to wee standing up!
Michael hadn't realised that some Ladies' toilets, just like Men's, contained a vending machine, and the classy woman was just pulling open one of the vending drawers and taking out a pack of something. As she moved away from the machine, Michael could not stop himself from nosily looking at the drawer she had opened, which said 'Durex'.
She'd bought a pack of condoms to have sex with Mr Blake! Michael felt incredibly embarrassed and, as the woman turned away from the machine and towards them, he quickly lowered his eyes to avoid meeting hers.
He felt her gaze sweep briefly across him before she looked at Safia.
"Hello. It's Safia isn't it," an extremely familiar voice said, which she followed up with, "Is Michael with you?"
His mouth dropped open as his mother's gaze returned to Michael, her friendly smile of greeting suddenly turning to one of shocked amazement.
"Michael," she gasped. "Tell me this is not you."
Michael tried to get his head around everything. It wasn't so much being found out - after all, he'd been expecting that all evening - it was more the shock of discovering that the classy woman with Mr Blake was his own mother - and buying condoms at that!
"Michael has been brilliant today." Safia's voice broke the short silence. "You should be very proud of him, Mrs Barker. He is helping to resolve what has been a difficult problem in my family."
Mrs Barker looked from her son to Safia and back to her son, and then back again to Safia. "Presumably," she said to Safia, "your father is unaware of the exact way in which Michael is helping you?"
"My father does appreciate Michael's help," Safia's response was so matter of fact, "but he doesn't know all the details which allowed Michael to become involved."
"Such as Michael being a boy?" his mother said.
"Precisely," Safia agreed.
"Isn't that rather deceitful?" his mother asked.
"Mum!" Michael said. "I could say the same thing about you and Mr Blake. Why didn't you tell me you were dating him? I mean, half my school are in this restaurant tonight. I'm going to get non-stop ribbing over it from now until doomsday, and you didn't even bother to tell me!"
"This is my first date with Peter," his mother said, "although he's been asking me all term. I did try to call you back after I'd fixed it up with him, but you'd switched off your phone, and I left a message instead. I'm sorry you didn't get it."
"Oh," Michael said, rather nonplussed and the silence lengthened between them.
"Oh well," he added, and gave her a quick smile. "At least you're going to use a condom."
He looked at her, she looked at him, and then they both burst into laughter.
"I wish I could talk to my father the same way you talk to your mother," Safia said, as they waited for Mr Hussein to pay the bill.
Michael shrugged. "She's never believed there should be one rule for her and one for me, so she's always treated me as an equal. Even so, I thought she'd blow her mind when she saw me dressed like this."
"I suspect you haven't heard the last of it," Safia said, "but she'd hardly want to create a scene which involved displaying her cross-dressed son in front of the whole restaurant, including her boyfriend. I don't think she'd need a pack of condoms after that."
"You two are looking very serious," Mr Hussein interrupted with a smile. "Shall we go to the car?"
He held open the door for Michael and Safia to exit the restaurant, and then held open the car door for them to get into the car.
"I think we should invite Michelle to stay a little longer, Father," Safia said as she squeezed into the back seat beside Michael. "I could get used to you holding open doors for us."
"I'm sure that Michelle would never speak to her mother the way you sometimes speak to me," Mr Hussein said.
"You may be right," Safia said with a wink at Michael.
"Thank you for buying that meal for me," Michael said. "That was extremely generous. Are you sure I can't pay you for it?"
"Don't be silly," Mr Hussein said. "As I said earlier, your intervention has got Safia and me talking again. That is well worth the price of a meal with a beautiful, young woman."
Michael flushed a bright red at his words, and Safia, noting his embarrassment said, "Don't you think I'm a beautiful, young woman, also, Father?"
"Of course," he said. "You are my daughter so you are beautiful by definition and I don't need to say it."
"The only beauty I have," Michael said, "is due to the beautiful earrings and pendant you loaned me."
Mr Hussein shrugged. "It is true that such things can make a beautiful woman look even more beautiful, but they cannot turn someone who is ugly into a beauty."
Michael was feeling more and more uncomfortable at the way the conversation was going, so he decided the best idea was to say nothing more, and they enjoyed a comfortable silence for the rest of the way home.
"Would you like a hot chocolate before you go to bed, Michelle?" Mr Hussein asked as they entered the house.
"Yes, please," Michael said.
"I will go and make some for us all," Safia said.
"No, that is all right," Mr Hussein said. "Why don't you go with Michelle and find her some of Anika's nightclothes to put on? Meanwhile, I can make the chocolate, and you can both come down here to drink it."
"Anika has left some gorgeous nightdresses," Safia said as the two of them climbed the stairs. "Even some sexy, little, baby-doll outfits. You'd look very cute in them."
"Didn't she have any pyjamas?" Michael asked, squirming at her words. "I'd feel more comfortable in those."
"Of course," Safia said. "You go to the bathroom and clean your teeth and get undressed, and I'll sort them out and bring them to you. You should find a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet."
"It's me," Safia said through the bathroom door, and Michael unlocked the door and let her in.
"I've sorted out some pyjamas," she said, handing him some turquoise, chiffon-like garments.
He eyed them with widening eyes. "When I said pyjamas I meant something a bit plainer," he said.
"Anika didn't do plain," she told him. "She has several more pairs but I thought these were the most suitable for you."
Michael sighed, trying to conceal yet another flush of excitement running through him. "If you say so. Can I give you the jewellery back now so you can lock it in the safe?"
Safia hesitated. "I think my father would appreciate it more if you returned it personally to him," she said. "Keep it all on for now and put on your pyjamas, and I'll go back to my bedroom and do the same. Then we can go downstairs for our hot chocolate together. But first, take a wipe and remove all your make up."
When she had gone, Michael looked more carefully at the pyjamas. There were long, baggy pants and a top which tied with a bow at the centre and ended just below the breasts, with long, baggy sleeves, all in the same turquoise, light - almost translucent - material.
A harem set! He could remember, as a child, watching an Arabian Nights fantasy - or maybe it was a Carry on film - where a dozen women had been clad in similar attire, and probably for the first time in his life, he had lusted for them. Now he was going to wear the same. Did that explain his racing heartbeat and the silly smile on his face?
He had already slipped out of the dress, and now, with some difficulty (he would have to get used to that, he vowed), he unclipped his bra and let his breasts swing free. He pushed his arms into the harem top and tried to pull it around his breasts.
His breasts did not appear to fit inside it! He had to either tie the bow loosely, which left a revealing gap between the two sides, or tie it tightly, which pushed his breasts up and gave him an even more fantastic cleavage than ever. He slipped off his panties and tights, and stepped into the harem pants and pulled them up his bare legs. They barely came up to his hips, leaving a huge gap between top and bottom.
He stared in the mirror at the buxom concubine facing him. He could just see the point of his small nipples protruding through the material. The sight was so erotic he thought he was going to have another orgasm.
"Aren't you ready yet?" Safia's voice came through the bathroom door, breaking the spell.
"I don't think I can wear these pyjamas," Michael said. "They're far too revealing." He unlocked the bathroom door to allow Safia to enter.
She looked at him and smiled. "Well, it's all right. There's only my father here. It's not as though we're going outdoors."
"But you can see my nipples," he said.
She smiled. "If you'd bothered to look at me, you can see mine as well."
He turned, suddenly aware how rude he'd been and gasped at Safia's short, white nightdress through which - she was absolutely right - her nipples protruded.
"You look so beautiful," he said.
She smiled at him. "Thank you, and remember, you're only seeing me like this because you're a girl. Right?"
He nodded, his own looks forgotten. "I think it's fun being a girl," he said.
"I think it's fun having a girlfriend to stay for a sleepover," she said. "Come on, let's go down and get our hot chocolate."
"Hello, you two," Mr Hussein said, with barely a glance at either of them. "You've been so long getting ready for bed, your hot chocolate is almost cold."
In fact, he was very proud that he hadn't allowed his tongue to hang out when Michelle came downstairs in that harem set. He always found it amazing that teenage girls didn't have the slightest clue of the tremendous effect their erotic dress had on men of all ages.
"Thank you, Father," Safia said, taking the two mugs from the kitchen bar.
"Thank you, Mr Hussein," Michelle said. Then she added. "I want to thank you so much for allowing me to wear this wonderful jewellery. But I think I'd better return it now." She walked over to him, fumbling with the clasp of the necklace. Clearly, she wasn't as used to necklaces as Safia, for she still hadn't released it by the time she was standing in front of him. He thought he might burst, so wonderful was the sight of her breasts heaving as she leaned slightly forward to undo the clasp.
"Let me help you," he said. "Turn around and I will undo it for you."
"Thank you," she said, and she swivelled around and stood just inches before him. It would have been so easy to slip his hands around her breasts and squeeze and knead them - but not, he told himself, a girl of his daughter's age, and especially not in front of his daughter!
He undid the clasp and lifted it from around her neck, and then as she fumbled with an earring, he said, "Let me," and reached forward and deftly unhooked the earring from her left ear. Then he did the same for the right one.
"It was really wonderful wearing it. I shall treasure that memory for years." And she reached forward again and kissed him on the cheek!
Michael couldn't believe he had done the same thing again! Last time, he'd told himself he'd been thinking himself into the role of a teenage girl. Now, it appeared, he had become a teenage girl, and he was rejoicing in it.
He switched on the bedside light, extinguished the room light, and then slipped into Anika's bed. From this position, he could see into the mirror on the dressing table, and he had to admit it was no boy facing him in the bed, but a teenage girl.
He was just about to switch off the bedside light when the bedroom door opened and Safia came in.
"Hi," she said. "I thought I'd come for a chat and a cuddle with my best girlfriend." She lifted the quilt and slipped into bed beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder and said, "You're enjoying being a girl, aren't you?"
"It's strange to admit it, but I think the answer is yes," he said. "However," he added, "I think I'm about to become a lesbian."
He lifted her chin, moved his head forward, and rather clumsily kissed her.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The knock came just a few minutes later, during which their hands had wandered all over the upper halves of the other's body - Safia had firmly prevented any lower exploration - and their tongues had twisted and jousted each other. They both sat up, startled by the sound, and tried to look innocent, as they adjusted their dress.
"Come in," Safia said, with a note of welcome in her voice which she certainly did not feel.
"I thought you hadn't gone to bed, yet," Mr Hussein said to her. "It's almost twelve o'clock. No midnight feasting in the dorms."
"Sorry, Father," Safia said.
"Since you both were clearly not asleep, I thought we ought to do something about Michelle's ear piercings. Safia, you should have told me that her ears were not pierced before Michelle put on the jewellery. I wouldn't have offered the earrings if I had known."
"That's why I'm pleased she didn't tell you, Mr Hussein," Michael said. "It was wonderful wearing such beautiful jewellery."
"All the same," Mr Hussein said, "you need to take care of your piercings. I have brought you some stud earrings with gold posts, which will prevent the holes from closing up. Put them in now, before you go to sleep, and you'll need to keep them in for several weeks."
He handed Michael a small box, which he opened. Inside were two gold stud earrings, each containing a tiny diamond.
"Oh Mr Hussein! I can't take these," Michael said. "As you say, I'd need to keep them for weeks. I might lose them... or anything."
"They are yours as a gift," Mr Hussein said. "It was foolish of Safia to pierce your ears, and you must take these in compensation."
Michael was torn. On the one hand, he knew he shouldn't accept such an expensive gift from Mr Hussein; and it had been his decision, as much as Safia's, which had led to him having his ears pierced. On the other hand, he really wanted those stunning earrings; like really, really wanted them for his own. Perhaps if he borrowed them for the time being, he could always get Safia to put them back in the safe when he returned to being a full-time boy.
"Thank you, Mr Hussein. That is a wonderful gift, and there really was no need to have given it, but thank you again."
He knew exactly what he had to do now. He pulled back the quilt, put his feet on the ground and stood up, prior to giving Mr Hussein a further kiss. Unfortunately, he hadn't realised that Safia had loosened the bow holding together the two halves of his top. As he stood up, the bow slipped and the two halves, under pressure from his bulging breasts beneath, sprung apart, revealing his two large breasts.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he cried, desperately grabbing the two halves of his top and pulling them around his body. "I'm terribly, terribly sorry. What must you think of me?"
Mr Hussein grinned and said, "Michelle, when you've had two daughters, I can assure you, you see far more shocking sights than that. Think nothing more of it, but I will retire now and let you reassemble your clothes. And Safia, it's time for your bed."
He should be eternally grateful, realised Mr Hussein, that Safia had answered his knock when he'd been expecting Michelle to be on her own. Otherwise, he'd have made a complete ass of himself. He was just a stupid old fool, infatuated with a pretty young girl. He'd been stupid to give her the earrings and he would put their value down to experience. Tomorrow, Michelle would go back home and he would not see any more of her.
Shame, really, as she did have absolutely fantastic tits combined with that wonderful schoolgirl innocence, which meant she was embarrassed about them and all the more appealing for it.
"Hello love. How are things?"
He'd called her on his mobile as soon as he woke up, anxious to clear the air with her about... well, everything.
"It's all a bit strange," he said. That was the understatement of the year. "But you..." he added, "well, you sound really happy this morning."
"Oh. Do I?"
"I can't think why."
"Could it have anything to do," Michael asked, "with the sound of that toilet I just heard flushing in the background?"
"Oh that? Er, yes, well, I suppose it could have something to do with that."
"I'm really happy for you, Mum."
"Are you? Really?"
"You were so sad when you and Dad split up, and you haven't been happy since. But you sound very happy this morning. I'm glad."
"Thanks, love. You don't know how important it is to me to hear you say that. Now, tell me how you got yourself in that mess."
So he did. He told her almost everything. Oh, he left out the bit about him kissing Safia (which actually, she guessed) and Mr Hussein (which she certainly did not), and about Mr Hussein giving him the diamond earrings, and about him exposing himself to Mr Hussein, not once but twice.
"So to summarise, you are stuck in that girl suit for the next two weeks?"
"And you'll be coming home later today, and when Gavin comes round to see you, you can show him a new side of you."
"I just don't know what to do, Mum."
"Hmm," she said. "You say you're getting on all right with Mr Hussein?"
"Yes. He's being very nice. I think he felt guilty about locking me in his house all day. I suppose he could have got into trouble over that, and if it leaked out about the way he'd been keeping Safia virtually a prisoner, there'd be a lot of people who'd be angry with him. And also, I really think I helped him and Safia to start talking to each other again."
"OK," she said. "Let me think about it and I'll get back to you."
Mr Hussein was drinking tea and reading a newspaper when Michelle entered the kitchen wearing her school uniform of white blouse and pleated black skirt. She was dressed for going home, he realised, and that was obviously for the best. A good job he hadn't made a fool of himself over her, last night. She might look physically mature, but she was just a schoolgirl.
"Michelle," he said. "Good morning to you. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you, Mr Hussein."
"Is Safia coming down? I was hoping she would lay out breakfast for us."
"She let me use the bathroom first, so she should be down in a few minutes, but I could lay out the breakfast. What do you normally have?"
"Could you really do that? Cereal, toast, tea. You'll find them in the cupboards over there." He waved his arm and Michelle obligingly started to lay the table. As she moved, he couldn't stop himself admiring the way her breasts delightfully wobbled with every slight movement she made. Yes, he thought. It really was best that she was leaving.
The telephone rang, startling them both, and Mr Hussein picked up the handset.
"Is that Mr Hussein? This is Helen Barker, Michelle's mother. I wanted to thank you for letting her sleepover last night."
"That's no problem Mrs Barker. She is a lovely girl and we enjoyed having her." Nice tits, too, he might have said but did not.
"That's good to know," she said. "My child never ceases to amaze me. But I'm afraid I have to ask another favour of you - do you think she could stay with you for another hour or so? I'm in a bit of a fix as my mother has had an accident and I have to leave for Yorkshire immediately. I'm trying to contact my mother-in-law, and get her to come over and collect Michelle, but she's not home at the moment, and she won't carry a mobile with her, and I'm not certain..."
"Mrs Barker, Mrs Barker," he interrupted her flow. "We would be very happy for Michelle to stay with us all day, if that would be helpful. In fact... How long are you likely to be away? Michelle could stay here."
"But that's the problem," Mrs Barker said. "Mum has her leg in plaster, so I'm going to have to stay in Yorkshire here for about two weeks. Obviously, you couldn't be expected to have her stay with you for that time."
"Mrs Barker," he said, "could you hold on for one minute?"
He turned to Michelle and explained the problem about her grandmother. "Your mother is trying to arrange for you to stay with your other grandmother." He saw the dismay in Michelle's face, and added, "Of course, if you wished, you would be welcome to stay here."
He was delighted to see her face light up.
"But would that be alright?" she asked.
He returned to the phone call. "Mrs Barker," he said, "Michelle would be very welcome to stay with us for two weeks, if you were happy with that."
She was overwhelmed by his suggestion and it took all of his powers of persuasion for her to accept his offer. But when she had done so, he couldn't stop a big smile spreading across his face as he turned towards Michelle.
"Your mother has agreed you can stay here," he said, and was delighted to see a smile light up her face also. "Have a chat with her and you can fix everything up. He handed the handset over to Michelle and she started talking to her mother.
"Mum, I'm sorry about grandma. How did she do it?"
"Well, we'd better say she slipped as she was coming down the stairs. That sounds all right, doesn't it?"
"You mean that..."
"You'd better not give the game away after I've made up such a convincing story. Now we'll also invent some reason why you can't go back home to pack a suitcase. How about if you lost your key at school this week, and I had the lock changed yesterday, but I haven't yet had chance to give you the key. That should work, shouldn't it? You'd better check with Mr Hussein that he doesn't mind you continuing to use Anika's things."
Michael turned to Mr Hussein and relayed the problem.
"Of course that is no problem," he said, "It us good you are getting the use out of them."
"Mr Hussein kindly says that's all right, Mum. But how are you going to manage over the next two weeks?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? Peter has suggested we go away somewhere for a few days, so I'm packing my suitcase as I speak."
"Mum!" he protested.
"It's all right," she said. "I shan't forget the advice I gave you yesterday. Now bye, love. And enjoy your girlie time with Safia."
Safia had come down by the time Michael had finished the call, and she was as pleased as Michael at the news. Whilst Mr Hussein's back was turned, she mouthed at Michael, "Is it true?"
He shook his head, and she gave him a big smile.
"It looks like it is going to be a hot, sunny day," Mr Hussein said, as they started eating breakfast. "Would you like to go to the beach, this morning?"
Michael was aghast at the idea. He'd be expected to put on a swimming costume and cavort half-naked in front of loads of other boys from his school, many of whom would be down there on this first day of the holidays.
Safia said, "That's a lovely idea, Father. We can take a picnic and it will be great fun."
"I'm not really dressed for the beach," Michael said.
Mr Hussein nodded and smiled. "I'm sure Anika has some swimming costumes and other beach clothes."
"But I'm not very keen on exposing myself on the beach," Michael, persisted, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. He'd got away with it last night in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant, but there was no way he'd do so whilst he was being ogled from just a few feet away by a dozen lusting school friends.
"Michelle is embarrassed that her body has matured so quickly," Safia explained to her father. She turned to Michael and added, "It will really be all right. We drive right out of Seacombe to the area where there are lots of sand dunes, and we'll be quite private. Father would never allow it otherwise."
Mr Hussein said, "Safia is absolutely right. I would never allow my own daughter to parade herself half-naked on a beach in full view of boys, so I certainly would not permit a girl in my charge to do the same. We'll find a spot where just the three of us can sunbathe in private. And you really should not be embarrassed by your growing body. All girls go through this period, sooner or later. I can remember, Anika suddenly grew very rapidly, but she enjoyed the attention it gave her. I'm sure, when you are a little more used to it, you will do the same."
"Father's right," Safia said. "Wearing a costume with just the three of us together will give you more confidence later on."
Michael could see he was beaten. "I suppose so," he said.
Mr Hussein turned to Safia and said, "I'm sure you can find some nice clothes for Michelle from Anika's room?"
"Oh yes," Safia said. "She has plenty of beachwear."
That gave Michael the chance to ask a question which had been puzzling him. "Why has Anika left so many of her clothes here? Does she often come and stay with you?"
There was a momentary silence before Safia said, "Anika had to suddenly travel to London and she didn't have chance to pack."
"Presumably, you are going to send them on..." Michael started to say, but he was interrupted by Mr Hussein.
"Safia has given you only part of the answer," he said. "In fact, Anika left home after I forbid her from going to live with a boy, without being married. I told her that if she went, I would disown her."
"Oh, Mr Hussein," Michael said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
He shook his head, softly. "This is also something which has come between Safia and myself," he said. "Perhaps it's better out in the open."
"It must be very difficult for you," Michael said.
"Ah, Michelle," Mr Hussein said. "As always, you see problems through other people's eyes, even though you probably disagree with what they do. You are right, it is difficult, but I lost my temper, and I let it, rather than my mind, control my words. For that, I must pay the price."
"Anika now has a little baby girl," Safia said.
"And you have never seen your granddaughter?" Michael said. "That's awful."
"I have said what I have said," Mr Hussein said. "I cannot undo my words. I would lose face."
"I can understand your position," Michael said. "It's never easy to tell others you said something in haste."
"Shall we get ready to the beach, now?" Safia said. "Michelle, let us go upstairs and find some clothes for you to wear."
"I am frightened you push my father too far," Safia said. "You haven't seen him when he loses his temper. If I were to have said the things you say to him, we would be back where we were before you came."
"But that's the point, Safia. I can say things as a guest that he wouldn't tolerate from you. They are things which need to be brought into the open. Not seeing your sister or her child is horrible for both of you."
Safia gave a wry grimace.
"Now, I know you said Anika's jeans wouldn't fit me," he continued, "but could I just try them? I really don't want to go to the beach wearing some silly dress."
Five minutes later, Michael had to admit defeat. There was no way he was going to zip up the pair of jeans over the padded Hiplet, which he had only just managed to fasten at the waist.
"It's weird that the dresses seem to fit me quite well," he said, "whereas these jeans are just hopeless. OK, you'd better find some dress suitable for the beach."
"Even if you could get them on," Safia said, "I think you look far better in a dress than jeans." But she didn't try to explain the excitement she got from dressing up this wonderful boy in pretty dresses. She couldn't really understand herself why she'd selected an older pair of Anika's jeans from her wardrobe that were at least two sizes smaller than the rest of her clothes!
Whilst Safia was packing the picnic, Michael got the chance to call his friend Gavin.
"Sorry about last night," he said, "but everything was in a bit of a panic. My grandmother..."
"Panic," Gavin said, "It must have been in crisis. How long has your mum being going out with Mr Blake?"
"Ah, you know about that?"
"I couldn't believe it when Mark Thomas rang me up. He'd just got back from the Kashmir and he recognised your mum, even though she was really tarted up to the nines. So how long has it been going on?
"That was their first date," Michael said.
"Well it didn't look like it to Mark," Gavin said. "He went to the toilets and Mr Blake was buying condoms out of the machine. Does your mum..."
"Gavin!" Michael said, "This is my mum you're talking about. Do you have to spread rumours about her just like the other plonkers at school?"
"Sorry mate. It must be tough on you. Still, it explains why you've been Mr Blake's favourite all term."
"What do you mean? I get on well with Mr Blake because I'm interested in Physics."
"Yeah! Right. We all thought he must be gay and he was grooming you. It's a bit of a relief that he was simply trying to shag your mum."
"Look," Michael said. "That's not fair and it's none of your business anyway, so back off."
"Sorry, Michael, I should have kept quiet."
There was an awkward pause between them, before Michael gave the spiel he had rung up to say. "My grandmother's had an accident in Yorkshire. We have to go up there and stay with her whilst she's recovering, so I won't be around."
"That's a shame," Gavin said. "My family's going for lunch tomorrow at the Grand and they'd said I could invite you."
"Sorry," Michael said. "But thanks for the offer."
It has been described as one of the sexiest moments on film, when Honeychile Rider walks out of the surf and up the beach towards James Bond.
But this, Mr Hussein thought, was no Ursula Andress recorded on celluloid. This was Michelle Barker in the flesh walking out of the surf in the skimpiest of bikinis. She walked with a natural ease which made each breast, barely supported by the bikini, bounce with every step she took, sending a quiver rippling up the height of the breast. Surely, it could only be seconds before one of them became unseated from the bra, as he was certain had happened a couple of times whilst they were in the water. If only he'd brought some binoculars - but then his attentions would have been far too obvious.
She and Safia had been frolicking in the sea - throwing a beach ball around, ducking each other under water, swimming, and all with a rumbustious behaviour between them that Mr Hussein had found incredibly erotic.
But in spite of her voluptuous body, Michelle had an air of childish purity that made her utterly delightful. Even her hair which, now it was soaking wet, more resembled a boy's haircut, gave her the appearance of an innocent virgin.
As the two girls returned, Michelle had clearly forgotten her earlier embarrassment when she had to disrobe in front of him, when she had shyly turned her back, slipped her beach dress over her head and then immediately run down to the sea after Safia.
"Are you all right, Father?" Safia's voice broke into his thoughts. "Only you are looking rather strange."
"I was simply thinking," he said, trying not to reveal his feelings of guilt. Michelle was his daughter's school friend; he had a duty of care; to protect her from the very kind of thoughts he was harbouring.
Safia smiled in a carefree way he hadn't seen on her face for a long time, and he couldn't help smiling back.
"What about?" she asked.
He gulped. Yesterday, she'd never have dared ask the question because she knew he would have flown into a temper. It was imperative he didn't behave like that now, but she had put him on the spot.
"I was thinking," he said, "that I might give Anika a call." Where had those words come from, he wondered. Desperation, partly - but surely he had not really been thinking along such lines, had he?
"Oh, Father, that's wonderful," Safia said. She ran forward and hugged him, and kissed him in a way she hadn't done for years. She half turned towards Michelle, and added, "This is your doing, Michelle. Come here and join in and be hugged."
Michelle shyly came forward until Safia could grab her with one arm and bring her into the embrace between all three of them. He slipped his arm around her beautiful shoulders and hugged her to him. He could feel her one breast pressing into his chest, the soft nipple making the merest of impressions against him. He could also feel a hardness gathering below which, if he didn't do something quickly, would be making itself known - not just to Michelle, but to Safia also!
He abruptly pushed both of them away with a: "OK, I can see you are both delighted that I have capitulated." But not as delighted as he had been at holding that innocent, but beautiful, girl in his arms. "But I am ready for our picnic, so let us eat and I will then telephone Anika."
As Safia opened the picnic hamper and started taking out the contents, Michelle said to him with a smile on her face. "It's not about capitulation. It's about wanting to see your baby granddaughter. You must be excited."
Heck, yes, he was excited - and it wasn't just about being so close to Michelle. He really did want to see his daughter again, and his granddaughter. He gave Michelle an even bigger smile that, for once, was not totally motivated by sex, and hoped that his hard prick wasn't very obvious.
Michelle had picked up her towelling dress and had pulled it over her head, and was trying to pull it down her body. But whilst it had easily slithered off when she was dry, the waistline now snagged on her most outstanding area. She wriggled a little, and then a little more.
"Here," he heard himself saying. "Let me help."
He grabbed the waistline of the dress on both sides and pulled downwards, carefully avoiding touching the very parts of her he most wanted to. His action did the trick, and the waistline slid over her breasts and down her body.
"OK?" he asked, giving her a smile, suddenly realising that, as the waistline had stretched over her breasts, it had freed them from the restraint of her bra, and they now jostled nicely in the low-cut neckline of the dress. He could see her nipples!
"Thanks," Michelle said. "That's great. I know it's silly, but I'm still getting used to having breasts. They've only recently grown like this, you see, and I'm very self-conscious of them."
He nodded, trying not to go cross-eyed as he peered down the front of her dress without making it too obvious. "I guess every girl is different," he said. "Anika developed a very shapely figure when she was quite young, but even so, it wasn't soon enough for her. Safia, on the other hand, is I think only a few months younger than you and yet she is still very slim."
"And hopefully going to stay that way," Safia said. "Mother was slim and I shall be like her. Now, the picnic is ready for you to tuck in, so why don't you both sit down and enjoy it."
Michelle sat down immediately next to Safia and he sat opposite the two of them. Entirely coincidentally, he realised he had a superb view of Michelle's nipples. He wondered whether he should have said something, but clearly, that would only embarrass the poor girl. Much better for her to discover the problem when he wasn't around. Perhaps he'd suggest later on that they go behind a sand dune and change out of their wet costumes. Not just yet, though.
After they had eaten, it was in fact Mr Hussein who wondered off with his mobile phone to telephone Anika. Whilst he was gone, Safia whispered to Michael, "First rule of being a girl is to keep checking that you're decent."
"What do you mean... Oh heavens! How long have I been like that?" He hurriedly stuffed his hand down the front of his dress and started to make himself decent.
"All through lunch," Safia said. "Fortunately, my father is too old to be interested in staring at teenage girls, otherwise he'd be thinking you were giving him the come on. But watch it, if any other males are around."
"There's so much to learn and go wrong, being a girl," Michael said. "In fact, I don't think I'll ever..."
"They are all coming over for lunch tomorrow," Mr Hussein said, coming up behind them with a huge smile on his face. "Anika, her... partner, Martin, and Sophie, my granddaughter. They've named her after you, Safia. What do you think of that?"
"That's wonderful, Father. Everything is wonderful. But are you expecting me to prepare a meal for them all. I'm not certain..."
"No, no. I told them I would take us all out for a meal at The Grand Hotel - the finest English restaurant in town - especially for Martin's benefit. So you two girls will need to put on your best dresses."
"You won't want me there," Michael said, as he realised that was where Gavin would also be eating Sunday lunch.
"Don't be silly," Mr Hussein said. "Anika is looking forward to meeting with you. You can have a good talk with her over lunch."
"Michelle, you are the reason why, after all this time, I am going to see my daughter and granddaughter. I will not permit you not to be part of the celebrations."
As they cleared away the picnic and started carrying stuff to the car, Michael whispered the cause of his concerns to Safia, who nodded and said she would think of something. Michael, meanwhile, knew that total ridicule was just one day away. Having a mother dating your Physic's teacher was pretty bad, but he guessed he hadn't seen anything yet.
"Father," Safia said, as they started the drive home, "I was wondering about Michelle's hair. It seems to have got a bit bedraggled after being in the sea. Do you think..."
"Make an appointment for her this afternoon at the best hairdressers in town," Mr Hussein commanded.
"Well, I'm not certain..." Michael started to say, but both Safia and Mr Hussein told him to be quiet.
"I've told Michelle that her present hairstyle makes her look like a boy," Safia said later that afternoon.
"Absolutely," Judy the hairdresser agreed, running her fingers through the offending hair. "Who on earth has done this to you?"
"It was a friend of her mother's," Safia said. "Father says that money is no object. She needs something to totally change her appearance and make her look a bit more mature, and very sexy."
"Money no object?" Judy said. "Then leave her to me. You'd better come back at about eight. Is that OK?"
"Eight o'clock?" Michael said. "But that's hours. Normally when I go to..."
"Which is why your hair is such a mess," Judy said. "I am going to make you look so different your own mother won't recognise you."
"But Safia," Michael said, "Don't forget that in two weeks' time I need to..."
"Don't worry," Judy said to him as Safia left them with a wave. "The style I shall give you will look as good in two weeks time as it does now."
Michael didn't say that was exactly what he was worried about.
"Michelle! Is that really you?" Safia said, gasping at the sight of what was clearly a young, beautiful woman before her,
"Yes, it is," Michael admitted, "although I can hardly believe my own eyes,"
"You have been transformed from a schoolgirl into a young woman," said Mr Hussein.
"Mr Hussein," Michael said. "I'm so very sorry about the price. I never dreamt that it was going to be so much,"
Mr Hussein smiled at her and said, "You have become a woman that any man could proudly take on his arm. It would have been cheap at..." he almost said ten times the price, but that would have gone too far. "...twice the price," he finished.
"Mr Hussein, I don't know how I can thank you enough. You've been so generous to me." Michael leant forward to kiss him and hoped Mr Hussein wasn't too embarrassed when his damn breasts got in the way again. In a sudden fit of daring, he crooked his right arm and added, "Will you take my arm?" After all, it was Mr Hussein who had suggested having his hair done.
Mr Hussein delightedly slipped his left arm through it, and they walked out of the hairdressers and along the road toward the car park, arm in arm, side by side, and thigh by thigh.
Michael couldn't explain his own feelings. A boy shouldn't be excited about having his hair blonded, about being given long hair extensions and then styled into golden curls which tumbled over his face and down his shoulders. What was even worse was knowing this hairstyle would still be with him when he was due to return home in two weeks' time. On the other hand, he had the confidence of knowing that he looked absolutely stunning. When he saw Gavin at The Grand tomorrow, there was simply no way that his best friend would associate him with the sex symbol he saw before him. Even Mr Hussein seemed impressed with his new style.
As Mr Hussein drove them home, he was rather more than impressed. He had sensed the excitement running through Michelle at her stunning new looks, and knew she had suddenly realised the sex goddess she was. Tonight was definitely the night when she would be in need of a man who could gently introduce her to the ecstatic pleasures that awaited her - not some sixteen-year-old boy who would give her a grope and then ejaculate inside her within minutes. No, she needed a mature man who would know how to keep her pleasured for hour after rapturous hour.
It was obvious from the way she had kissed him and nuzzled her breasts against him that she had chosen him for the part, and then they had walked arm in arm to the car, with her thigh pressed firmly against his. This was to be IT.
If only Safia would not keep chattering on. She was so excited about Michelle's new hair, and how it really made her look so different, and how they should choose which dress Michelle would wear to lunch tomorrow, and which shoes... so on and so on.
He could see that Michelle was as disinterested in her conversation as he was, but on the other hand, it filled the gap between having the quick meal which Safia prepared and a time when it was respectable for them all to go to bed.
He decided he would shower, and then make certain Safia was in her own bed - no repeating last night's mistake - before going in to compliment Michelle on her new hair, and tell her how beautiful she looked. She would be overwhelmed by his words and he would give her a goodnight kiss, which would turn into the most passionate kiss she'd ever had. After that, it would be simple to slip into bed beside her and take her up to the heights of ecstasy, and keep her there for hours.
He was just about to suggest it was time for bed when the phone rang. Suppressing a swear word, he went through to the kitchen to answer it.
"I hear you've at last come to your senses about Anika," a very familiar voice said.
"Mother." Mr Hussein groaned. The last thing he wanted now was a long chat with his mother. "Have you been speaking with Anika?" Surely, Safia had not telephoned her grandmother this afternoon to tell her the news?
"Of course I've been speaking with her," his mother said. "I have never stopped speaking with her all through this ridiculous argument you've been having with her. Now what's this Anika tells me about you having a young girl staying with you?"
Mr Hussein's heart leapt into his mouth and he cursed his luck. "It's simply one of Safia's school friends, Mother," he said. "Her grandmother has had an accident and her own mother has gone to visit her in Yorkshire. The girl is staying here whilst her mother is away. There's nothing wrong in that."
"You forget I know what you were like before you got married," she said. "Of course there is something wrong with it. Let me speak with Safia."
"That was many years ago, Mother. I have two daughters of my own, now."
"A leopard never changes its spots," she said. "Let me speak with Safia."
"I'm sure she will tell you I have been the perfect host," he said, mentally crossing his fingers.
"Safia is too loyal to her father to do otherwise," she said. "Far too loyal for her own good. Thank Allah that Anika was not the same. Now, let me speak with her."
He took the phone back into the lounge and said to Safia. "It's your grandmother. She would like to speak with you."
Safia's face lit up and she eagerly took the handset he held out her.
"Hello, Grandmamma," she said. "Has Father told you the good news about Anika?"
She listened and then said, "Oh, that's a ridiculous idea. Father's far too old for... Very well, Grandmamma... Yes, Grandmamma... No, I'm sure she will not mind... Yes, Grandmamma. Goodbye, Grandmamma."
After she had rung off, she turned to them both and said, "Grandmamma has some very old-fashioned ideas. She is very shocked that Michelle should be staying in a house with only you here, Father, so I have had to promise that I will sleep in Michelle's bed, and not leave her alone with you during the day. Isn't that ridiculous?"
Damn the interfering old... But he didn't let his feelings show. Instead, he nodded. "Your grandmother certainly does have ridiculous ideas. I don't know how she survives in today's world. Well, I certainly won't tell on you, Safia, if Michelle wants to remain in twenty-first century Britain, rather than the past, and have a bed to herself."
Michelle smiled at him and his heart lit up again. Mr Hussein knew she had immediately realised the problems of Safia sleeping in the same bed, and how his quick-thinking response had got around the problem.
"Does that mean you no longer wish Safia to have an arranged marriage?" Michelle said.
He gasped with shock. How could his lover-to-be have turned everything around like that?
"Well, I'm not certain what Safia's marriage has to do with your sleeping arrangements," he said.
"I thought it was about whether we lived according to modern Britain, or the traditions of your culture," she said.
Damn, he thought, she was so innocent she really had not realised his intentions. Or perhaps she was playing hard to get. Whatever the facts, her unavailability made her even more attractive than ever. If anyone else had said her words, he'd have thrown them out of his house, but with this girl...
"Father," Safia said. "It is nothing to do with our traditions or our culture. I have promised Grandmamma. Therefore Michelle and I have to sleep together."
He wasn't going to have sex with Michelle tonight! He knew it. His mother had outwitted him, curse her. Indeed, with Safia following her grandmother's instructions to the letter, he was going to have difficulty having sex with her at all!
"Very well. Michelle, I'm afraid you are going to have to sleep with Safia, tonight, and every night during your stay." But he so dearly wished she was going to sleep with him. If only she knew... Damn! Damn! Damn!
Michael could hardly stop himself from grinning at Mr Hussein 's words. If only he knew... On the other hand, he still had on the Hiplet, with his cock embedded firmly inside it. He and Safia would have lots of frolicking fun together, that night, but both he and she would still be virgins in the morning. Damn! Damn! Damn!
Mr Hussein was rather pleased next morning to see that both girls had not slept well. He'd had to wake them from their slumbers, something he'd never had to do before with Safia, and even then, it seemed to take them ages for them get down to breakfast.
He was delighted they were still wearing their night clothes - Michelle looked fantastic in her harem suit, although she had taken care this morning to properly secure the bow. All the same, she was a picture to delight the heart.
Michelle gave him a special grin; he thought she probably regretted challenging his suggestion that they should ignore his mother's orders, but did not want to be disloyal to her friend. She was a good girl - indeed, she was just too good.
"Sorry we're so late Father," Safia said. "It is certainly a very different experience when you sleep with someone else."
He smiled, thinking that for Michelle, it had unfortunately not been the kind of experience she should have enjoyed.
"It is not a problem," he said. "Have you decided yet what you are going to wear, as you only have a few hours before we meet your sister? I know it always takes women so long to get ready - especially beautiful ones."
He obviously aimed that remark at Michelle, but it was Safia who responded. "That is because the result is always worth waiting for. I have an idea for Michelle, but you will have to wait and see Father."
"Well, we are meeting them at The Grand at 12.30, and it would be inhospitable to arrive late."
"We shall be on time, Father," Safia said.
"Anika is expecting to see a boy wearing a dress, who will just about pass as a rather butch girl," Safia said when they had returned to Anika's bedroom. "I want to show her a beautiful, sexy girl who could never be mistaken for a boy. Now, put on this shower cap and go to the bathroom, shower and shave, whilst I sort out your clothes."
Michael did as instructed. When he returned wearing just a housecoat, Safia had put the same white dress on the bed which she had shown him on Friday evening.
"I'm really glad you chose the black dress on Friday," she said, "as this dress is far more stunning. Now you have your new hair style, this is going to knock everyone dead."
She held it up before her, and Michael could see this dress not only had an even more revealing cleavage than the black dress, it was very much shorter, barely reaching down to the tops of her legs.
"It's all right," she said, "seeing the look on his face. "There are matching panties and tights to go with this dress."
"I should think so, too," he said. "That dress is far too revealing. I don't think I can wear it." He should have been horrified at the very thought, and his words reflected what he should have felt. But ever since he'd had his hair done, he had felt incredibly good. He so wanted to wear it, but boys really should not want that, should they?
"Let's try it on you and you can make up your mind," Safia said. "Slip off the housecoat, and slip on the tights and panties. You'd better put on the shoes, as well, as the dress is a bit tight and it will be more awkward with it on."
Michael stared down at the white shoes. Safia had mentioned them when he was getting dressed on Friday evening, and he'd experienced a momentary thrill when she had mentioned the four-inch heels. Now he could actually see what four-inch heels looked like, he was both terrified and excited at the thought of wearing them. The two-inch heels he'd worn Friday evening had been difficult enough to put on and walk in. But after a while, he'd got used to them to the point where it felt strange when he'd taken them off when getting undressed.
But these were twice the height of those. He'd never be able to get them on his feet - would he? He knew he was going to have a good try.
Safia helped him bunch up the tights and slip them on his legs, and pull them up, and he managed to slip on the panties all by himself. Then he was bending his feet at an impossible angle to his legs, in order to feed them into the shoes. They fastened by a strap that went around the ankle, and when he had them both fastened, he used the same trick as before to stand up.
They were impossible to walk in. He staggered a little and Safia caught him.
"Remember, get your weight down on the heel - it will support you - pelvis forward and shoulders back and look ahead. Try taking a few steps."
He did. He was a bit shaky, but he didn't stumble.
"There," Safia said. "Let's put on your dress and then you can go and practice your walk again. Everything is going to be fine. Hold onto my shoulder whilst you step into the dress."
It wasn't so much a dress, Michael realised, as a short white sleeve. It had a halter neck and there was a gap partway down the back which was laced together in the same way as a corset.
"Keep still," Safia commanded, "whilst I lace it up. I'm going to have to pull it quite tight, as I think you may be slightly thicker around the waist than Anika."
"Do you have to pull it so tight?" he puffed. "I can hardly breathe."
"It's one of the pitfalls of being a woman," she said as she pulled some more. "The things we do for beauty."
"Yes but... Ooh!" as she pulled even harder.
Finally, Safia was tying the two ends in a bow at the top and Michael could stare at himself in the wardrobe mirror.
"Wow!" he said.
Safia came to stand next to him and stare into the mirror with him. "Was it worth it?"
His boobs had been pulled in by the dress, but this had the effect of giving him a fantastic cleavage, which quivered with every breath Michael took. The dress fitted him like a glove, and reduced his waist by several inches, so that the curve as it flowed over the wide hips and bum of his Hiplet gave him an hour glass figure.
"I can't go out like this."
Safia smiled. "Why not?"
"Well, it's just..." The hem of dress was only an inch below his panties. Every movement he made would expose them, and every male would gawp. Sitting down would be murder.
"Too sexy?" Safia finished his sentence.
"Yes... well, not just too sexy but too tartish."
Safia smiled some more. "That's good. Now you really are thinking like a woman. But perhaps looking tartish is a small price to pay to avoid your friends realising that you are a boy who dresses in women's clothes."
"Maybe," Michael said, "but I guess your father would be even more humiliated if I was exposed."
In his heels, Safia had to stretch up to kiss him on the lips. "You did it for my family, and I am truly grateful. I thought I showed you how grateful last night."
Michael was forced to accept that Safia had been grateful to the limit of his own physical limitations. He smiled. "Yeah. You were very grateful, but not as grateful as it might have been if things had been different."
"Maybe," Safia said, "but we shall be leaving the house in less than an hour. I have to dress myself in that time. Now let me quickly put on your make up, then you can spend the rest of the time practising in your new heels, whilst I get dressed."
"Anika! I am so pleased to see you."
"This is Martin, and this is Sophie."
"Hello Martin and... Oh! How beautiful she is! Her tiny nails. Her lovely face."
"Isn't she just? Safia, how are you?"
"Fine. This is Michelle."
"Oh! Michelle!" Anika said it in a way that said she had both recognised the significance that Michelle was really Michael and, as she stared at the woman who faced her, astonishment that Michelle really was Michael! "Wow! Michelle. You look very beautiful," she said.
"Thank you, Anika," Michelle said, returning her smile. "It's mainly because I'm wearing your lovely dress. Safia said you wouldn't mind me borrowing your things?"
"Er, no," Anika said. "In fact, I think that dress looks better on you than it did on me. Your hair is fabulous. I don't understand?"
"Never mind Michelle's hairstyle," Mr Hussein said. "Let us get in some drinks. Martin, what will you have?"
So the lunch got underway. Michael was happy to take a side seat whilst the family buried the rift which had torn them apart and admired the new baby. He certainly did not want to become the centre of attraction, for any reason.
The drinks came and they ordered their food - and Michael was much more confident in an English restaurant than he had been on Friday, and didn't need Mr Hussein's advice, which was fortunate, as he was totally engrossed in baby things.
"I remember you at school."
"What?" Michael turned in surprise to his right. "Oh, er... Martin. Er... what school are you talking about?"
"SPuS, of course," he replied. "I was in the sixth form when you joined. I thought then that you must be gay, when you used to watch us wanking behind the groundsman's hut."
"Oh. I don't think I remember that," Michael said, feeling the blush creeping up his neck. "But I'm not gay. Anyway, I'm surprised you recognised me."
"Only because Anika told me what had happened," he said.
"Then you know I got forced into it," Michael said.
"Yeah, course you did," Martin said. "Like I was forced into having sex with Anika. Well, I can tell you, if I was put on the same spot you were in, I'd have told Safia to get stuffed. Dressing up in a girl's school uniform. You must be gay."
"Well, I'm not," Michael said, turning his head away and hoping for some kind of a distraction that would get him away from Martin.
"Hello," Gavin said, who had clearly been hovering there, trying to catch Michael's attention. "You look just like Michael Barker. Are you related?"
Michael realised he had jumped out of the frying pan, into the fire.
"Sorry," Gavin continued. "I didn't mean to startle you. This is my friend, Mark Thomas."
"Hello, Mark," Michael said, and had the presence of mind to add, "Sorry, you didn't tell me your name."
"It's Gavin," he said. "We're having lunch with my parents and as soon as I saw you walk in, I thought you looked just like Michael."
"He's my cousin," Michael said, continuing the previous story. "But I don't think I look that much like him."
"Well, no. Not in that way, obviously, but I thought your face was very similar."
"Well thanks very much, er, Gavin." Michael emphasised the name, just to show his anger at being compared with... himself. Not that he was angry - he simply thought that was what a girl would do at being compared with a boy.
"Don't mind him," Mark said. "He's not very good with words - that's why he hangs out with your nerd of a cousin."
"You think my cousin's a nerd!"
"Well, of course. Everyone thinks your cousin's a nerd."
"Well, I happen to like my cousin," Michael said, "And I think you are very rude."
"You haven't heard anything yet," Mark said. Then he leant over and whispered into Michael's ear, "Why don't we go somewhere and fuck?"
"Get lost, jerk," Michael said. He turned his back on him, only to see Martin leering at him
"You could be in there," Martin said.
Michael was about to give a very rude reply when the waitress came between them and said, "Soup?"
Michael enjoyed the meal far more than he expected. The food really was excellent, and although Mr Hussein was infatuated all through the meal with the baby, Anika was more than ready for a distraction from baby care, and she talked happily with Michael.
"You really do look fantastic," she said in a low voice. "When Safia told me what had happened, I thought there was no way you could carry it off. I was amazed Father hadn't seen through you straightaway. But you do look such a natural girl."
"Thanks," Michael said with a wry smile. "I'm not certain whether that's a compliment or not."
"Definitely a compliment," Anika said. "When I was your age, I was boy crazy, but you can go off them. Don't get me wrong, they still have their essential uses, but we girls are far superior."
Being included in the description gave Michael a warm glow inside, and he said, "I've always thought that, even as... from the other side. But it certainly seems very different from this side of the fence."
"I think it would do every man good if they had to be a woman for a fortnight," Anika said.
"Count me out," Martin said.
"See what I mean," Anika said. "Anyway, I think you look terrific and you should be proud of yourself."
"Thanks," Michael said.
"Except that Safia is not so good with your make up, especially on pale skin. We'll go to the Ladies after the meal and I'll give you some tips. In fact, I have some make up in my bag that will suit you far better than what you have on. You can keep it, afterwards."
"Thanks, Anika," Michael said.
"Poofta," Martin muttered under his breath.
"As a woman, you'll get used to the rubbish that comes out of the mouths of men," Anika said. "Talking of which," she raised her voice slightly so her father would hear, "Father, you're not still trying to pressurise Safia into marrying that creep, Haresh, are you?"
"Haresh is a very fine man," Mr Hussein said. "He has made his business highly profitable, and is well respected."
"Only because he treats people mercilessly," Anika said. "He'd treat his wife the same way."
"I have decided he is a suitable husband for Safia," Mr Hussein said in a voice which brooked no argument. "It is arranged."
"It must always be difficult," Michael cut in quickly as he saw Anika's temper about to burst, "predicting what someone will be like as a husband or wife, when you've only met them in a completely different context."
He paused, aware that all eyes were on him and waiting for him to continue. Why on earth had he spoken? What did he say now?
He took a deep breath and launched in, hoping his words would make some kind of sense. "The reason many English people are against arranged marriages, is that bride and groom hardly seem to meet before they are married. They might find each other obnoxious, or they might fall in love."
He'd been looking directly at Mr Hussein when he spoke, and as he said those last words, he saw the hostility in Mr Hussein's eyes soften. Then he nodded. "Michelle, as always you speak the words of wisdom," he said. He turned to Anika and said, "You can see why I am happy for her to stay in my house.
"I have always found the behaviour of Haresh to be beyond reproach," he continued, "but I can see it would be better for Safia to get to know him better. I am sure she will then agree Haresh will make a fine husband."
"Father," Anika said, "It's amazing. Michelle really has a good affect on you. I haven't heard you talk this much common sense since Mum was alive."
Mr Hussein shrugged. "Maybe you are right. Maybe a man does need a good woman to keep him in order." He glanced around the table and caught Michael's eye.
Michael nodded, he could certainly agree with that.
"I guess every man needs that," Martin reluctantly admitted, and the mood suddenly lightened, and everyone was talking at once.
"You know Father has fallen in love with you, don't you?" were Anika's first words as they stepped inside the Ladies.
"What?" Michael gasped. "That's crazy. He's middle-aged for heaven's sake."
"There are plenty of men older than him with teenage brides," she said.
"But it's preposterous. I mean, I'm a..." They suddenly both looked around the toilets, to check there was no one else there.
"But you look a sexy, young woman," Anika said, "and he's fallen for you. Why do you think he spent a fortune on that hairstyle?"
"Oh my God!" Michael said. "What am I going to do?"
Anika smiled. "First of all," she said, "let's wipe off your make up and I'll apply a little of this foundation to your face."
Michael obligingly held up his face for Anika to start work. "I meant, what am I going to do about your father?" he asked.
"Do nothing," she said, as she started to apply the foundation.
"But... What do you mean?"
"Look," she said, "men fall in love at the drop of a hat. They see a girl at the bus stop and they fall in love with her. They can think only of her - they want to have sex with her, to marry her, to have babies with her. Then, another pretty girl comes along and they fall in love all over again and the first girl is forgotten. It is the way of men."
"I'm sure they are not all like that," Michael said.
"Those words are fatal," Anika rebuked, as she turned her attention to his eyes. "Of course, men do have stable relationships, but only because the woman grabs them and keeps them sated. But that is beside the point. What is important is for a girl to understand men, and to use that understanding to her own advantage. Now that I have seen him with you, I know he is in love with you, and you must realise that."
"But you must have guessed yesterday, when you telephoned your grandmother to warn her," Michael said.
Anika smiled and shook her head. "The reason I telephoned Grandmamma was because I knew exactly how she would react when I told her a young girl was staying there. I did it to get you and Safia sleeping together."
"I owed you for getting Father talking to me again, so consider that a part payment for services rendered. After all, with your man bits glued into the Hiplet, it wasn't as though you were going to make her pregnant or give her AIDS. But now I've seen the situation, I want you to stay around and use your feminine charms to get Father to abandon his ridiculous plans to marry Safia off."
"But I don't have any feminine charms," Michael said.
"You have huge tits, for a start," she grinned, as she used a lip pencil to line his lips. Then she applied lipstick. "For many men, that's all the charm you need. But it's not just that. Most men think with their balls. When you packed yours away inside that Hiplet, I think you stopped using them in place of brains. You've started using your mind, and that's how women get men to do what they want. I saw how you defused the argument which was just about to explode out there, and I think you will win the argument with Father over Safia's marriage."
"There," she said, standing back from Michael and getting him to look in the mirror. "What do you think?"
He stared at himself. Could this really be the same person he had looked at in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth on Friday morning, determined to get to see Safia?
"It's much better, Anika," he said, "But do you really think I can change your Father's mind over Safia's marriage?" he asked.
"Absolutely," Anika replied.
"And that she'll marry me?" he said.
"Who knows?" she said. "You're both young and should have fun before thinking about lifetime partnerships. Maybe it will be together, maybe you will both move on."
With that, he had to be content. But as he left the Ladies, he was determined he was going to get Mr Hussein to abandon his plans for Safia's wedding.
"I'm sorry about my friend, Mark, being so rude," Gavin said to Michael as they were leaving the toilets. Clearly, he'd been waiting for Michael to emerge.
Anika gave Michael a big smile and said she would see her back at the table. To be left alone with Gavin was the last thing that Michael wanted, and he made to follow Anika, but Gavin moved to block the way and they almost collided.
"Michael is my best friend," Gavin continued, "and my mum said I could invite him here for lunch today. But he's had to go to his grandmother's up north, so I invited Mark instead. Michael is a much nicer guy than Mark."
Michael smiled at his best friend. "That's OK. I wasn't blaming you for Mark's comments." He again went to pass by him to return to the table, but Gavin again moved to stop him. It left them standing very close to each other.
"I'm surprised Michael hasn't mentioned you before," he said.
"Distant cousins," Michael said. "One side of the family doesn't talk to the other. You know what families are like."
"But I haven't seen you around here before. Do you go to the girls high?"
Michael paused. He knew it was always best to be consistent with a lie, otherwise you could get into a terrible muddle. On the other hand, if he admitted to going to SIGHS, he'd be bombarded with questions - which class was he in, and did he know...
He didn't have to answer, he realised. Gavin was trying to chat him up. All he had to do was to use his feminine guile to fob him off. "Why the interest?"
"I... That is... Mark dared me to come up and talk to you, after I said you looked very pretty."
"Do you think so?"
"Oh, you're absolutely gorgeous!"
Michael couldn't stop an enormous grin from spreading over his face, and for an instant, he almost confessed the truth to Gavin. But the madness left almost as soon as it came. Gavin would tell Mark and the mobiles would be buzzing all afternoon. "Thank you," Michael said. "So have you won your dare, now?"
But then Michael was taken by surprise as Gavin suddenly lurched forward and planted his lips on Michael's. "That was my other part of the dare," he said.
Michael's reaction was instantaneous. He slapped Gavin's face, pushed him to one side and marched past.
"Mr Hussein, when are you thinking of arranging for Haresh to meet Safia?"
Mr Hussein smiled. "I was rather hoping you and Safia would forget all about the idea, but I can see that was a forlorn hope."
They had returned home after spending the whole afternoon at The Grand. Michael now felt completely at ease in his sexy dress. Besides, he realised that Mr Hussein liked him to look sexy. It was only when he verbalised it like that that he realised how silly it sounded, and he gave a little grin.
"What are you smiling at?"
"At your hope we'd forget all about Haresh meeting Safia."
"You think I'm making a big mistake about the arranged marriage, don't you?"
Michael smiled again. "It's not a big mistake at the moment because it's not too late to change your mind. It would only be a big mistake if you tried to force Safia to go through with it and she disobeyed your command or - even worse - if she obeyed your command and discovered what a mistake it was."
"It is so easy for a woman to change her mind. You are all renowned for doing it. But for a man, it is a loss of face - of honour."
"But haven't you heard?" Michael said. "We have sexual equality in this country. You have the right to be like a woman and change your mind."
Mr Hussein burst into laughter at her words, and then he paused. "I haven't laughed like that since Aneka died. It seems wrong to laugh now she is not here."
"From what I have heard from you and Safia," Michael said, "she was a lovely woman. I'm sure such a woman would not want you to be unhappy forever."
Mr Hussein's reaction was totally unexpected. He burst into tears.
It seemed only natural to Michael to go and put his arms around him, as his mother still did for him when he felt the same. "There, there, it's all right. You have two lovely daughters and a granddaughter to remember her by."
Suddenly, Michael realised, Mr Hussein was snivelling in his breasts, and then nuzzling between them in a way he had never done when his mother hugged him. He awkwardly stepped back, pushing Mr Hussein away.
"I am sorry," Mr Hussein said. "I didn't know what I was doing."
"It seems to me, Mr Hussein," Michael said, "that is not the proper way to behave with a school friend of your daughter's."
"What's he been doing?" Safia asked as she came into the room, wearing her customary tee shirt and jeans and, Michael thought, looking all the better for it.
There was an instant's silence before Michael said, "Your father was crying over your mother."
"Really?" Safia sounded delighted. "Oh, Father, you never cried at the time. Both Anika and I thought you would feel better if you could only cry a little. I guess it was the emotion of seeing your granddaughter, today. Wasn't she beautiful? Oh, Father, life goes on."
Mr Hussein looked at Michael and then at Safia and said, "You are absolutely right, Safia. And I am proud of my daughters and granddaughter, and I only want what is the best for you. You understand that, don't you?"
"Of course, Father."
"Michelle wants me to organise the meeting between you and Haresh as soon as I can. Is that what you want?"
Safia looked at Michael, then at Mr Hussein, and then back at Michael. "I'm not certain, Father."
Michael wanted to leap in and explain all the reasons why she should meet Haresh and tell him to get lost, but for once caution made him hold his tongue.
"I thought you agreed with Michelle that such a meeting was necessary," Mr Hussein said.
"I kept silent," Safia said. "I didn't say I agreed or disagreed."
"Why do you hesitate?" her father asked.
Safia said nothing for a minute and then said, "Anika found her partner in the English way. She wore sexy clothes, she flirted dreadfully, she went out with lots of boys, including Haresh, and eventually she settled with Martin." She shook her head. "I didn't like him."
"You are not his partner," Mr Hussein said. "You don't have to like him."
"But did you like him, Father?"
At last, Michael found his voice. "Fathers are required to like the father of their daughter's child. It's the rule, and I'm sure your father would not say otherwise. Actually, I didn't like Martin very much, if that's any help."
They all smiled at that and Mr Hussein said," As usual, Michelle is right. Of course, I like Martin, but I understand why some people might not."
Then he added, "Michelle, you were very keen for Safia to meet Haresh. What do you say about her uncertainty?"
Michael hesitated slightly, before he said, "You're asking Safia to make an incredibly important decision, yet she is still only fifteen. At our age, most of us are still trying to understand life, and making mistakes as we do so.
"Most English women are twice that age before they have their first child," he continued. "Anika had her child much earlier than that, but at least she was an adult when she chose Martin. Haresh may or may not be right for Safia. Regardless of whether or not she has an arranged marriage, I believe that at sixteen, she is too young to marry."
Mr Hussein nodded, for a few seconds and then said, "We have had a good discussion on this, but we don't have to make a decision at this moment. We shall all be more the wiser for sleeping on it. Now Safia, why don't you make us some coffee?"
When she had left the room, Mr Hussein said, "Thank you for keeping quiet about my actions, just now. I don't know what came over me."
"Don't be silly, Mr Hussein," Michael said. "We all do stupid things at times. I hope you don't mind, but I have come to think of you as a very good friend, rather than simply the parent of a school friend. Is that all right?"
"Of course it is," Mr Hussein said. "You speak so much good sense that I have come to respect you as an adult woman. Perhaps that is why I let my emotions get the better of me. Do you understand?"
Michael smiled. "Yes, I understand. But you must not forget I am Safia's school friend."
"Of course," Mr Hussein said, but he had mentally crossed his fingers.
"I saw Gavin kissing you. How could you do that?"
They had gone to the bedroom to get ready for bed, and Safia spoke to him for the first time that evening.
"I was taken by surprise," Michael said. "I simply didn't expect him to do that."
"It was obvious what he was going to do."
"Look, it's all right for you. You're a girl and you've always been one. You've learned what to expect and what to do. I'm trying to learn everything in a few days and sometimes I take the wrong decisions."
"Martin said you were gay. Is he right?"
"No! At least," Michael paused for a second, "I don't think so. If you remember, the reason I came through the gate on Friday morning was to see you. But ever since I have been trying to behave and think as a girl would. A girl wouldn't be regarded as gay if she lets a boy kiss her. It's confusing."
"Martin said that a normal boy wouldn't let himself get into the situation you are in."
"But it was you who got me into this mess!"
"Perhaps it was a mistake. Maybe I should have let you try to sneak past the gate on Friday afternoon, but I thought if I did that, I would never see you again. Anika always tells me a woman has to trap her lover, but I don't think even she thought of turning him into a woman."
She gave a little smirk, and Michael couldn't help smiling back. Within seconds, they were laughing at each other and then Michael had his arms around Safia and said, "You turned me into a girl, so if I'm gay, it's when I'm with you. You have made me into a lesbian."
"Well, there's nothing wrong in that, is there?" And she kissed him more passionately than she had ever done before.
Mr Hussein left for work at his normal time, apologetic that he had to go and leave them alone. Nonetheless, he still insisted on locking them in. "I am responsible for you, too, Michelle," he said. "I have to care for you as I care for my daughter."
"But we are mature girls, Mr Hussein," Michael said. "We are quite safe going out on the streets of Seacombe."
"I know you think that," Mr Hussein said, "but you cannot know it. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you, and I am certain, neither would your mother."
"We could have a game of tennis," Safia suggested when he had left, adding with a grin, "or perhaps you're worried you might lose again?"
"No way. The only reason I lost last time was because your father was watching and I felt self-conscious," Michael said. He shook his head. "It's difficult to believe that was only on Friday. So much has happened since. It's as though the world has changed its axis."
They went upstairs and changed, before going out to the tennis court and knocking up. Michael's nervousness of the last game had gone now, and he grinned as he thought about how scared he had been about old Mr Walters seeing his panties.
"I won last match, so you had better take the first serve," Safia said. "Let's see whether you can do any better than last time."
Although it took again some time for him to get used to his breasts bouncing around with every movement, his game was much better. But then, so was Safia's who seemed much more nimble than she'd been on Friday. He won the first set, but she won the second, and as the game wore on, the sun got higher in the sky and the day hotter, and their game so much more competitive. Eventually, the extra weight of his breasts and hips began to take its toll. In the end, it was her ability to keep going whilst he flagged that gave her the match.
"Well played, Safia," he gasped, "the best girl definitely won."
"Well played, Michelle," she said. "Wasn't that a great game? I have never played so well before. My best friend brings out the best in me."
"But I'm so hot," Michael said. "What a shame you don't have a swimming pool as well as a tennis court," he teased. "Some houses just don't have the facilities one expects." The closest his own had come to either of those was the inflatable paddling pool he'd had as a child.
"You're welcome to use the pool here," an old man's voice came through the hedge behind them. "Just like the children who lived in the house before you did."
They both gasped, surprised their conversation had been overheard.
"That's good of you, Mr Walters," Safia called back. "But we can't get round there."
"You don't have to come all round by road," Mr Walters replied. "The kids before you climbed up that oak tree and along that large branch. I can put up a ladder here so you can get down."
"I'm not certain," Safia started to say, but Michael cut in.
"I would love a swim. It's very good of Mr Walters to offer. Why don't I try climbing the tree to see how difficult it is?"
"Well, I'm not certain we should," Safia said.
"Oh, come on," Michael said. "Let's try it. Are you certain that would be all right, Mr Walters?" he asked, raising his voice.
"Of course," came the reply. "I have some fresh lemonade in the fridge, and I probably have some gingerbread in the larder. The kids before loved gingerbread. Climb up the tree and I'll go and get the ladder."
"I'm still not certain..." Safia said.
"Just watch me," Michael said. "It doesn't look a difficult tree to climb.
It wasn't. There were a few short stubs of branches to grab and knot holes which made good toeholds. Within a few seconds, he was standing at the point where he could look over the hedge and see old Mr Walters struggling with a wooden ladder which he placed against the branch of the tree on his side of the hedge.
"That looks a beautiful swimming pool," Michael said.
"I keep it properly maintained for when my grandchildren come around, but that's not very often, now. Just walk along the branch and then you can step down into my garden," Mr Walters said.
"I'd better watch Safia climb up this side, first," Michael said.
"No," she responded. "I'll go and get our swimming costumes and towels. Is there somewhere we could change, Mr Walters?"
"Yes," he said. "There's a little changing room you can use."
"OK, I'll be back in a minute," she said. "You go on."
Michael found it quite easy to walk along the wide branch and then put his one foot onto the ladder, which Mr Walters held steady for him. Within seconds, he was standing next to Mr Walters who looked him up and down delightedly. "Why, I could see you were a pretty girl when I happened to glance out of the bedroom window just now, but I never realised quite how pretty."
"Not really," Michael said, rather embarrassed at Mr Walters's stare. "I must look a mess after that tennis match."
"Pretty as a picture," Mr Walters said. "Now, I know your friend lives next door. Are you staying there or just visiting?"
"My name's Michelle," Michael introduced himself. "Mr Hussein has let me stay here as my mother has had to go to Yorkshire to look after my sick grandmother."
"Well her ill health is my good fortune," he said. "I don't get many children around here now. The kids who lived in Safia's house before they moved in were always popping around."
"I can see why," Michael said looking at the pool. "It looks so inviting."
"I have our swimming things," Safia's voice came from the other side of the fence. "I'm going to throw them over?"
They came flying over the fence, two towels wrapped around Anika's bikini and Safia's one-piece swimming costume.
Michael picked them up and then shouted to Safia, "If you reach up, you can grab a short branch sticking out..."
Two minutes later, she nimbly climbed down besides them and stood admiring the pool. "How wonderful. I can see it from my bedroom window, and I've often fancied climbing that tree to have an illicit swim."
"Well you won't have to do it illicitly now," Mr Walters said. "I'm happy for you to use the pool anytime, provided you bring a friend. You mustn't ever swim on your own in case anything happens."
"Yes, Mr Walters," Safia said.
"There's the changing room," Mr Walters indicated the small wooden hut. "I'm afraid it's only big enough for one at a time, so who's going first?"
"You go first," Safia said to Michael.
So he took the towel with his bikini and went inside the small cubicle, removed his clothes and pulled on the bikini.
It really did expose an awful amount of his breasts, he realised. He hoped it wouldn't give Mr Walters a heart attack. He went out, and let Safia enter the cubicle.
"Don't forget to use the swimming cap," she said, picking it up from the floor where it must have fallen, and thrusting it into his hands, "otherwise your hair will be ruined."
It was a good job she'd thought of it he realised. He sighed; there were just so many things to think about as a girl.
"Here's some suntan lotion," Mr Walters said, handing Michael a bottle as he was still struggling to put on his swim cap. "Put it on as the sun is very fierce at the moment."
"Thank you." Michael said, realising that was something else he hadn't thought of. He took the bottle and rubbed it into his face and body. "Do you think you could do my back?" he asked, turning around and holding out the bottle for Mr Walters, in the same way he'd have asked his mother if she'd been there.
"Of course," he said, and proceeded to rub ample quantities of lotion into the rear of Michael's body. It was only when he had started on Michael's buttocks right down to the top of his bikini that he realised that perhaps it hadn't been the most sensible thing to do."
"Thank you, Mr Walters," he said, turning around but making sure he had a smile on his face, rather than the scowl his boyish instincts suggested. "I think I can do the rest myself."
"It was a good job you thought of suntan lotion," Safia said to Mr Walters, coming up besides them. "Can you do my back afterwards," she added to Michael.
"It's important," Mr Walters said. "Especially with young skin. Now, Safia, once you have the cream on, you can both get in the pool. Never dive in here, though, it's not deep enough."
They both sat on the side of the pool and then slid down, letting the deliciously cool water sweep up their bodies.
"I'll go get the lemonade and gingerbread, Mr Walters said. "You two just have fun."
They certainly had fun galore in the pool, although always aware of Mr Walters's watchful eye, they refrained from anything which he might construe as petting. But there was plenty of pushing and jostling and ducking and grappling.
"What larks, you two have," Mr Walters said as they climbed out of it twenty minutes later. "I haven't seen young people having this much fun in years. Now, have some lemonade and gingerbread."
They tucked into it with relish. The lemonade was deliciously cold and fresh, and they both drank gallons of it. Neither of them had eaten gingerbread before and they wolfed it down. After all, it must be lunchtime by now and they hadn't eaten all morning. They took extra slices to eat, as they flopped down on the sun beds arranged next to the pool.
It had been a strenuous morning for both of them. Now relaxed, they felt a great tiredness creeping over them, and they both fell asleep.
"I think you ought to wake up, now," Mr Walters said. "You've been in the sun for long enough, even with suntan lotion. You mustn't get burnt."
"Gosh," Michael said. "You're right."
"I am glad to see the pool getting some use," Mr Walters said. "The grandchildren are now at university, so I hardly see them. And I must say it's an absolute delight having such pretty girls frolicking in my pool. You are both very lovely women."
"Thanks Mr Walters," Safia said. "But it's Michelle who is really pretty. I'm just normal."
"Don't believe that," he said. "You are very pretty too, Safia. One day you will make some man very happy." Then, he added, "Or woman."
"Sorry?" Safia said, blushing to the routes.
"No need to be," he said. "You are what you are and take your time to decide what that is. There's no hurry. In the meantime, you give old men like me a lot of pleasure in admiring your youthful bodies, whatever your inclinations. OK?"
They both nodded.
"So I'll be delighted to see you again, as often as you wish. If I'm not here, you can make yourselves at home, but you mustn't swim on your own. There must always be two of you, all right?"
"Yes, Mr Walters."
"That bikini fits you rather better than it did Anika," he said to Michael.
"Anika?" Safia said. "When did you see Anika in that bikini?"
"Oh, she often used to play truant from school and come round here to swim. Who was I to complain? We chose that bikini off the internet and I bought it for her. It was the skimpiest one I could see!"
"The old dog," Michael said, almost admiringly as they entered Safia's house.
"I never knew Anika played truant," Safia said. "And I certainly didn't know she was swimming at Mr Walters' house and that he bought her a skimpy bikini."
"How do you feel about continuing to go round there?" he asked. "It's quite clear that he wants to lech at us."
She smiled and said, "So, you need to get used to being a girl, and a sexy girl at that. I don't think he's likely to rape us, so it doesn't bother me. Let's go again tomorrow."
It rather bothered Michael, but he thought it would sound childish to say so, so instead he said, "Well, you've always got me to protect you."
"That's nice," she said and she kissed him.
"Very nice," he said, and he kissed her back.
"Safia! Have you turned into a lesbian?"
The words were snapped at them from the lounge doorway. They both guiltily turned.
"Grandmamma! What are you doing here?" Safia gasped at the woman standing in the doorway.
"I mean," she added, "how nice to see you."
"I should think so, to," the tall woman said. Her similarities with Safia were undeniable, and she wore Western dress - a smart suit which gave her an elegance in spite of her years. She turned towards Michael and added, "I presume this is Michelle."
"I'm sorry, Grandmamma, I should have introduced you. This is my friend Michelle, who Anika told you about."
"How do you do, Michelle?" She held out her hand for Michael to shake. "Or perhaps," she added, staring closely at him, "it's really Michael?" She pulled his hand so he had to turn half sideways onto her.
Seeing their look of surprise and guilt, she said, "I recognise Anika's Bustlet, and presumably you're also wearing her Hiplet. Take those away and it becomes obvious you're a boy. But the hair is excellently done. It completely disguises you. Is Anika in on this con?"
Michael kept his mouth firmly shut, as he had done up until now, whilst Safia hesitated long enough for her to draw her own conclusions.
"So that sneaky little madam made me telephone your father and get the two of you to share a bed. I shall have words with her. I presume you are wearing the red gel, rather than the green? Even Anika isn't that stupid."
"Yes, Mrs Hussein." Michael spoke for the first time.
"Then there's no harm done, other than to my son's pride if he ever found out." She turned to Safia. "Aren't you going to offer me a cup of tea?"
As Michael and Grandmamma waited in the lounge for Safia to make the tea, she started to smirk slightly, which then turned into a definite laugh.
"It's all right, Michael," she said, noticing his discomfort. "I'm not laughing at you; simply the thought of my idiot son making a fool of himself over a boy dressed as a girl."
Michael found he was laughing with her, and as Safia brought the tea in, she look pleased that the ice appeared to be broken.
"You're not cross with us, Grandmamma?"
"You'd better tell me how it happened, and I can make up my own mind."
After they had relayed the story, more or less, as it happened, she was again laughing. "So this whole story arose because of the stubbornness of my idiot son.
"And if I hear either of you repeat those words, you'll both be in trouble. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Grandmamma." "Yes, Mrs Hussein."
"Grandmamma. It is really nice to see you, but I still don't understand why you have come to visit us."
"Because your father rang me to tell me he has invited Haresh to dinner this evening. It is important to ensure that you are properly prepared for Haresh. There is a very strict protocol we will need to follow."
"Yes, Grandmamma," Safia resignedly said.
Safia looked stunning when Mr Hussein arrived at the house that evening, wearing a red tunic with deep V multicoloured insert, over red trousers, which Grandmamma had bought especially for her.
"Safia, you make me so proud," Mr Hussein said, with a huge grin on his face. "Haresh is waiting in the car. I shall go and invite him in."
"Not before Safia has retired upstairs," Grandmamma snapped from behind him.
"Mother!" Mr Hussein exclaimed, taken by surprise at her presence. "What are you doing here?"
"You surely didn't think I would allow you to supervise such an important occasion for my granddaughter, did you?"
"Well, I don't see why not..."
"Tch! Don't be ridiculous. Safia is not quite ready to meet Haresh, so Michelle, will you look after him for a few minutes." She turned to Michelle and said, "Offer him a drink, Michelle. Safia, go upstairs and I will be with you shortly."
Safia obediently returned upstairs and Mr Hussein stepped outside to invite Haresh into the house. Michael took an immediate dislike to him, and not just because he wanted to marry the love of Michael's life. He looked incredibly old and very shifty.
Haresh was introduced to Grandmamma and he made all the right, smarmy noises at her. Michael thought he might throw up.
"And who is this young lady?" Haresh turned to Michael who had been hovering behind Grandmamma, hoping he wouldn't be noticed.
"This is Safia's friend, Michelle," Grandmamma pronounced from the lounge doorway. "She is going to host the evening whilst I act as chaperone to Safia.
"Go on then, girl," Grandmamma snapped at Michael. "Get on with it."
"Yes, Mrs Hussein." Michael tried to smile at him, but found it difficult. "Would you like to come this way, sir?"
Michael led the way into the lounge where the drinks had been prepared - a number of cordials and soft drinks, as well as several alcoholic ones.
"No need for formalities, Michelle," Haresh said, trying to put the girl at ease. "I must say it's a bonus having such a pretty girl as you to assist with the proceedings."
"Thank you," Michael said, blushing slightly as Haresh swept an appraising eye over his body. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Is there any vodka?"
Michael confirmed that there was.
"Then give me a decent shot in a glass of cola, and there's no need to tell Mr Hussein or the old bat about it. All right?"
Michael obligingly half-filled a glass with cola and then added a tot of vodka - the kind of measure his mother would have of gin.
"More than that," Haresh said, taking the vodka bottle from her and almost filling the glass. "And why don't you have one yourself, as well?" He reached for another glass.
"I don't drink," Michael protested. He did actually but Grandmamma had given him strict instructions about that, and it was more than he dared to disobey her.
"You have to start sometime," Haresh said, passing him a glass containing at least as much vodka. "Now, drink it down."
Michael was saved having to do so as the door opened and Mr Hussein came in. "Sorry about this," he said to Haresh. "My mother is insisting that strict protocol is followed. I think it will be some time before Safia is ready."
"That's no problem," Haresh said with a smile.
"Father," Safia's voice came from upstairs. "Could you speak with Grandmamma, please?"
Mr Hussein made an apologetic face, and turned and left the room.
"That's all for the good," Haresh said. "It gives us a bit of quiet time together."
"I'm sorry?" Michael said.
"Why don't you and I have a bit of fun before they come back?" he said.
"Fun?" Michael couldn't believe his ears. "But you're here to see Safia. She's my friend and your intended..."
"Come on. A beautiful girl like you must have offers all the time." He reached forward and squeezed her left breast. "Look, you are fucking gorgeous. How about a quick blow job?"
"No!" Michael said, knocking Haresh's hand away. "I shall tell Mr Hussein."
"You think he'll believe a little English tart like you against a respectable man like me? Come on. Don't be a little cock-teaser."
"How dare you?" Mr Hussein had silently re-entered the room, and now stood behind them with a black look on his face. "You abuse my hospitality. You insult me in my own home. Get out."
"But sir, she was leading me on."
"I heard who was leading who on. Now, get out and don't come back."
"Or perhaps," Haresh said, a sly look coming onto his face, "you have already deflowered her and want to keep her for your own. We both know English girls are easy meat."
Mr Hussein's reaction was so sharp that neither Michael nor Haresh saw it coming. One second, Haresh was grinning at Mr Hussein, the next Mr Hussein's fist was smacking him in the face and he was lying prone on the floor, a dazed look on his face with a bright red patch developing around his eye.
"You insult both my good friend and my deceased wife. If you do it again, I shall slit your throat. Now get out."
He pulled Haresh to his feet, dragged him from the room and Michael heard the front door open and it went quiet, presumably as Mr Hussein took him to the gate and threw him out.
A few seconds later, Grandmamma entered the lounge and said, "At last, Safia is ready to meet her prospective fiancé."
"I'm afraid Mr Hussein has just thrown Haresh out," Michael said.
"Excellent," Grandmamma said with a smile. "But I didn't mean that one."
"What are you talking about?" Mr Hussein, said returning to the room, clearly having heard part of the conversation.
"Oh, nothing," Grandmamma said, with another sly smile. She would never tell her son that she had left her mobile phone in the lounge on call to Safia's, and that they had been able to hear every word said by Haresh and Michael. It had simply been a matter of ensuring that Mr Hussein entered the room at the right time.
"I think," Grandmamma said some time later after they had all got over the immediate events, "that we must take care that Haresh has no grounds for his fictitious accusation about you, my son." She said the words as though she hadn't made exactly the same accusation directly to him just a few days ago.
Mr Hussein nodded. He had been silently pondering exactly the same issue. "What do you suggest?"
"Why. I shall stay on here, of course, until Michelle's mother returns and she can go home. I think that's best for all, don't you?" She swept her eye over all three and was delighted to note the dismay on all their faces.
She smiled at them. It would do them no harm to keep them on their toes. However, she would probably have all kinds of lapses as far as the two girls were concerned. After all, what mischief could two girls get up to?