Double Dare 2 — Double or nothing by Maeryn Lamonte Steven just spent Friday evening out on the town with the four hottest girls in school, only he was wearing a frilly, pink dress at the time. Going back to school on Monday is going to be interesting.

-oOo-
Monday started off as bad as I’d expected. Jon and Matthew were upset that their little plan to humiliate me had backfired so badly on them and had apparently camped out near the cinema waiting for Portia and me to turn up. They’d used their phones to take photographs and text them to all their mates, which meant that by the time I turned up back at school, the only person who hadn’t seen the incriminating evidence was me.

“What does it feel like to be a girl?”

“Hey poofta you steer clear of me, I’m not into gay love.”

“Hey Stephanie, I thought you looked really cute on Friday.”

None of the taunts were particularly original, but when you get a constant stream of them they start to get to you. I hadn’t been on the school grounds ten minutes and I was already on the verge of tears. I couldn’t give in to that though; if the humiliation was bad now, wait until they added ‘crying like a girl’ to my list of sins.

My life was over. I’d taken a chance on this, hoping that actually getting to go out with Portia might be enough to balance the shame of being seen in public in the frilliest, pinkest dress in existence, but it obviously wasn’t, not with the smear campaign that Jon and Matt had directed against me.

The thing is I could hardly blame them for their attacks on me. I was queer, even if not in the homosexual meaning of the word. Kinky might be a better word for it, because after I left the girls on Friday night I didn’t stop enjoying myself.

-oOo-

I’d walked home rather than take the bus, luxuriating in the feel of the clothes and the knowledge that I looked so very pretty in them. I mean what kind of boy gets his thrills from something like that?

I made my way to the park where I’d left my weekend clothes. I’m pretty sure Portia was genuine in her regret about leaving me to walk home in her best party frock, but she hadn’t even offered to collect my school uniform from her room at the end of the evening. Too much risk of her parents seeing? Forgot? Realised that I was enjoying wearing the dress too much? Or maybe there really was a vicious streak in there somewhere. I guess I’d find out on Monday when she refused to talk to me.

I climbed out of the dress with more regret than even I suspected. I had no hanger, so carefully folded and rolled it and placed it inside my already empty bag so that it wouldn't get dirty. My two makeshift breasts, made from birdseed in a pair of old tights by Jenny I think, went in the bag as well along with the petticoats that gave the skirt all its body. I kept my tights and girly underwear on — in truth I’d forgotten to put any boxers in with the other clothes in the bag, but I probably wouldn’t have used them if I had — and pulled on my jeans, and sweatshirt. I could still feel the soft material of the panties and bra as well as the cool caress of the tights under my clothes, but I still felt a sense of loss in turning back into me.

Tatty trainers replaced the pair of pink pumps and a little bit of work with the wet wipes — a parting gift from Amanda — had enough of the makeup off for me to feel safe going home. The nails were a different matter, but I could always keep my hands in my pockets for now.

I made it through the door five minutes before my curfew. Mum and Dad were snuggling on the sofa in front of the idiot box. I guess it’s nice that they’re still that close after all these years, but I didn’t want any of it. I headed straight for the stairs.

“Did you have a nice time?” Mum wanted to know.

I stopped and peaked back into the lounge.

“Yeah it was great. There were a bunch of us, had an absolute blast.”

“What did you go and see?”

“Nothing memorable. Listen, I’m wiped out, gonna go to bed.”

I ran up the stairs before there were any more questions.

I pulled the dress out of the bag and hung it at the back of my wardrobe. I couldn’t leave it in the bag all week after all, it would get creased. I changed into my pyjamas, feeling a few last pangs of regret as I took off the tights and underclothes. They’d need a wash though and the only way I was going to get that done was by hand. It only added a minute to the brush-teeth-go-to-the-loo routine after which I hung them up under my dressing gown on the back of my door. They wouldn't dry very quickly there, but at least they would be away from prying eyes.

-oOo-

Saturday morning was typical with Mum and Dad heading off somewhere early on and me declining the offer to go with them, preferring my weekend lie in. Only this time I couldn’t stay in bed. I was fidgety and restless, wandering about the house looking for something new, something that was disturbing my peace. I knew what it was though and before long was sitting on my bed changing into my bra and panties — still slightly damp, but what the hey. The tights followed, then the petticoats and the dress.

I went into my parents' room and looked in my Mum’s full length mirror. No makeup other than the very pink nails — I’d have to use some of Mum’s nail polish remover before the day was too far gone — but still enough of a wave to the hair, and that slight shaping to the eyebrows. It was a girl looking back at me through the mirror. She smiled at me and I was filled with a new realisation of how much I actually liked being her.

I had the rest of the day to myself and didn’t want to spent it wandering aimlessly around the house. Saturday morning TV was its usual waste of time, but instead of slobbing in front of it and letting it rot my brain as I usually did, I found myself in the kitchen, strapping on one of Mum’s frilly aprons and hunting through her recipe books for something to cook. I had never taken an interest in that sort of thing before, but it seemed to be a part of the emergent me, the one that liked to wear dresses. I probably made a bit more mess than is usual, and the cookies, when they came out of the oven, were misshapen and a little crispy round the edges, but the whole experience of cooking, swirling around the kitchen in the dress, imagining myself to be just another girl cleaning the place down afterwards, was a heady drug and I was definitely high on it. So much so that I lost track of the time and only just managed to duck back upstairs before the sound of keys in the door turned into my parents in the hallway and a very embarrassing situation.

The dress and pseudo-breasts went back into the wardrobe and I jumped into my jeans and sweatshirt again, jamming some not too stinky socks on over the tights just as there came a knock on the door.

A quick check of the room to make sure there was no incriminating evidence left lying around and I called out the all clear. Mum’s head appeared through the door.

“Sweetie, did you bake those cookies?”

I shrugged.

“There was nothing worth watching on the TV and I was bored. You don’t mind do you?”]

She came all the way in and took a step towards me.

“Not if you clean up the kitchen after you, like you did. Oh my, your nails.”

Oh bums, how could I have forgotten that? Think quick.

“Yeah a couple of my mate’s girlfriends thought it would be funny. I can’t wash it off, I don’t suppose you have anything do you?”

“I’ll get you some remover.”

She gave me an indulgent smile and ducked out the room. Poor silly Steven, doesn’t even realise you need acetone to dissolve the stuff. Yeah keep thinking that Mum, it’s better than the alternative.

-oOo-

After my narrow escape, normalcy re-established itself. As a reward for my efforts in the kitchen, and my consideration in cleaning up after myself, we bought in fish and chips and rented a couple of DVDs — my choice — from the local video place, then, with the witching hour looming, I headed off to bed, once again washing my smalls as part of my evening ablutions.

Sunday passed in much the same way as usual. I felt oddly guilty going to church with pink toenails, but at least I had forgone the lacy underwear and nylons. Back home afterwards, my Mum asked if I wanted to help with lunch. I knew it wouldn’t be as much fun without the dress, but I agreed even so and surprised myself with how much I enjoyed it. I know the kitchen isn’t solely a woman’s domain, but helping out still made me feel more like a girl and I realised I didn’t actually need to be suitably dressed for this new person inside me to rise to the surface.

Mum gave me a few odd looks as I chatted with her and followed her directions with whatever she asked me to do. After we’d eaten I headed for my room and homework. Mum joined Dad in the lounge and I half heard my name and a few mumbled comments in a concerned voice before I closed the door on them.

-oOo-

And that brings us back up to date. Friday evening and Saturday had seen a timid part of me poke her head out of the shadows. Gentle coaxing would probably draw her further out and the rest of me wanted that to happen. The way things were going this morning though, it wasn’t looking likely. The jeering of my peers was like banging on the side of an aquarium full of anemones, the delicate part of me was in full retreat. Then Portia and her friends showed up.

Followed by an expectant cheer from the mob, they made a beeline straight for me. Okay girls, go on, just how much more humiliated do you think I can be?

Debbie was first. She walked straight up to me, put her arms around my neck and planted a long and luxuriant kiss right on my lips. It took me a moment to respond, but long before the kiss was over, I had my hands on her waist and was kissing her back. Eventually she withdrew with a wink and a smile.

“Hi Stevie. Thanks for Friday night, I had so much fun.”

Amanda was next, sliding her body close against mine and inserting her tongue as far into my mouth as it would go. Again it lasted for the best part of forever before she pulled back.

“Hey Steve. I’m sorry, I guess I did take a little more off your eyebrows than first intended. Still I think it takes real guts to do what you did on Friday. Who’d a thunk that the sign of a real man would be that he was prepared to put on a dress?”

She gave me a parting caress on the cheek and ceded her position to Jenny who all but jumped on me. Again the kiss, so sweet so soft.

“Oh Steve, you are the best. I can’t wait for this weekend, just the five of us alone.”

And finally Portia. Sweet Portia of the radiant smile and unfathomable eyes.

“Hi Steven. You left these in my bedroom on Friday.”

She handed me my uniform, washed, ironed and neatly folded. I thought she might slip past without introducing me to her plump red lips, but she was just teasing the crowd. Her’s was the longest, gentlest kiss of all.

“See you later. I’ll save you a seat at lunch.”

They carried on into the main building leaving the school’s entire male population staring in silent disbelief at what they had just witnessed. The anemone’s fronds were back out in the current and ready to sting anyone who came too close. Matt and Jon were within easy earshot. Time to stick in the barbs.

“Worth wearing a dress for? Oh I think so.”

I turned and followed the four hottest girls in school through the doors.