Turner Hall

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Turner Hall
By Angela Rasch

The day promised to be the kind of spring morning when things are so clear and sparkly that you know you could easily put events in motion that would transform your life.

The block “TH” on our jackets stood for Turner Hall, the most popular men’s fraternity of Skylar University’s campus. The men of Turner Hall faced life with purpose. We accepted the challenges the world offered and would do whatever was needed to reach our destiny.

The four of us walked tall and proud, across the quad, in front of the student union.

At least, I was walking “tall.”

The three with me were my biggest supporters in the fraternity . . . but they all stood 5’6” and under. They all were handsome as could be. And being so undersized, they actually could be considered very cute.

Fate caused Samantha, the most sought-after girl on campus, to step out of the Bradford Building -- no more than twenty feet away, from where we were walking.

For a moment, my mind froze, as it often did when I gazed upon her idyllic majesty, but then my instincts took over.

I grabbed Matt’s right arm and Josh’s left, while I simultaneously tripped Tyler. Having timed my attack well -- I immediately pinned Tyler to the ground, with a knee on his back. Within a few seconds, I had both Matt and Josh in headlocks under my arms.

They flailed ineffectively, landing only feeble and glancing blows. I grinned at Samantha -- much the way a cat might smirk while displaying a dead mouse as a hunting trophy.

Samantha gave me no satisfaction. . .walking by as if she hadn’t even seen my superman-ly feat, but I knew she had to have been impressed. Who wouldn’t be?

Just as soon as the three could say “Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!” I let them loose.

I laughed, as did the small crowd, who had gathered during our short wrestling match.

“Really?” Matt asked derisively. “You’re really an ass, Chris. Don’t you ever get tired of being Mr. Freaking Obnoxious?” He rubbed his arm where I had initially held him in my vise-like grip. I wanted to take him in my arms and soothe him, but that would have looked wrong, especially after what I had just done.

“I’m sorry,” I said, without conviction. “I just couldn’t help myself. I would do anything, to go out on a date with Samantha.”

I would crawl through a mile of smashed glass just to listen to her pee, into a tin can.

“I can’t believe you just embarrassed the shit out of us just to get the attention of some girl, who wouldn’t be into you, even if you paid her,” Tyler said bitterly. His eyes sparkled with anger -- making him all the more stunning. Of the four of us, he was smartest, but he had a tumultuous temper, which I loved to manipulate through my teasing. He also was the most ticklish, something I often used to push his ire, over the edge.

His rude remarks about Samantha’s lack of interest in me seemed intent on interrupting my fantasies about her, but they didn’t hit their mark. “One of my goals for next year, my fifth and last year at Skylar, is to finally date Samantha,” I announced proudly.

My claim rang hollow in that I had only been on three “dates” during my four years of college. . .and they had been for events where a date was mandated by our fraternity. I had been set up on a blind date each time. Dating Samantha would be prestigious.

“That’s a flimsy excuse, for the way you act,” Tyler stated vehemently. “Can’t you even get it through that dense head of yours how we feel when you embarrass us like that?”

“I’m doing you three a favor,” I crowed. “For sure, someday, after you scrawny bastards decide to lift a few weights, maybe you’ll be able to defend yourselves.”

“Then what, Dude?” Josh asked. Josh was our planner and the one I found the most fascinating because of his gentle heart. His ice-blue eyes would narrow to slits, while he carefully plotted one of our placid -- but sometimes elaborately schemed, adventures. “I suppose, in your totally screwed world, the three of us should take steroids and come looking for you, to even the score.”

“Something like that,” I agreed. Maybe I am a little too rough with them. This is the third time this month I’ve beaten all three of them, at once, in public wrestling matches. I didn’t enjoy doing it, as much as I felt compelled to prove I could. “Tell you what. If the day ever comes, when even one of you three can beat me, I’ll do whatever he wants for a day. I’ll be that person’s slave.”

The three of them eyed me. They exchanged glances as if they’d suddenly all hatched a similar sinister plan.

“What if all three of us beat you, on the same day?” Matt asked hesitantly.

I laughed. “That will never happen.”

“But say it did?” Josh insisted softly. “If the three of us each beat you, in a wrestling match, on the same day, would you be our slave for, four weeks.”

“Why stop at four weeks?” I asked sarcastically . . . in a brash voice. “Let’s make it a semester. If the three of you can all beat me in a wrestling match . . . one at a time . . . on the same day . . . I’ll be your slave, for four months.”

“And do whatever we ask?” Matt asked. “That would be awesome.”

I grinned. “Whatever your teeny-tiny hearts desire.” At 5’8” I’m not all that much bigger than them, but I always love the stunned looks on their sweet little faces when I remind them who’s the boss.


That summer, I worked for Matt’s father as an engineer’s assistant. He hired about two-dozen Skylar students every summer. I had thought the job would involve a lot of outdoor work on a construction site. But as it turned out, the only activity I engaged in was pushing a pencil, for nearly twelve hours a day.

It proved to be good training for the accounting background I would need when I owned my own drugstore. But I barely did anything other than work inside that office all summer long. Matt’s dad possessed tremendous business acumen, which seemingly accounted for the fact that Matt had what seemed like unlimited money to spend, on whatever he wanted.

I had thought I would be working with Matt -- but he had rolled his eyes strangely when I got the job. He didn’t work for his father, choosing to take some sort of secret summer job with Josh and Tyler. They wouldn’t even tell me what city they would be working in.

On the last day of school, Josh gave me a bottle of vitamins as an end-of-the-year present. He said all three of my friends had purchased the same vitamins. They were the kind that made you strong, without having to do any physical labor.

I had been taking that brand for three years and my body attested to their potency.

The label on the bottle he gave me claimed a “new and improved” pill. They looked much different from the ones I’d previously taken.

I laughed to myself at the ridiculous thought of my friends taking their vitamins and hoping for the best -- probably so they could finally quit being my personal punching bags. Before I left campus for the summer, I had given each of them a lingering hug. I would miss the physical contact of wrestling with them, for the three months we wouldn’t see each other.

I had one of those strange impulses I occasionally felt, to kiss each of them on the cheek -- but contained my emotions and instead shook their hands.

As things turned out, I didn’t get to touch a weight all summer and had to rely on the pills to try to keep my physique somewhat toned. Unfortunately, even doubling the dose didn’t help. I lost muscle and seemingly became weaker every day.


“You’re in for a very interesting semester . . . Chrissie,” Matt bellowed. He had just easily held my shoulders, to the ground.

Matt, Josh, and Tyler had spent their summer working for a landscaper. Their “secret” jobs had mainly involved shoveling decorative river rock and laying sod. They now had muscles on top of hunky muscles. In addition, they had all taken a martial arts course and learned hand-to-hand fighting techniques.

“Okay. . .. I never would have thought it possible,” I said quietly, trying to hide how impressive I found their new gorgeous physiques, “but you guys all have beaten me fair and square.” Despite having been vanquished, I felt intense pride, in having pushed them to succeed. The brief but concentrated physical contact, with my three buddies, had been pleasurable, after a summer of isolation.

“And now. . .,” Matt stated triumphantly, “. . .you’re our slave for the entire semester.”

My butt puckered a bit -- but I felt I could trust that whatever they wanted me to do wouldn’t be too bad. They were always fair, part of why I loved them so much.

“I suppose I’ll have to clean your dorm rooms. . .?”

“. . .and make our beds every day, Chrissie,” Josh added.

“What’s this ‘Chrissie’ bullshit?” I demanded.

Matt laughed. “Have you ever heard of a maid called ‘Christopher?’”

“‘Maid?’ Oh, I get it. Since I have to clean your rooms, you’re going to call me your maid. I guess that’s fair.”

“Fair, or not. . .,” Josh started. He reached for his words, obviously working hard at being stern. “. . .you’re going to be our maid for a semester. We busted our butts working out this summer, and now you’re going to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Come to my dorm room at 8:00 tonight, slave,” Matt added. “We’ll go over the details.”

Matt’s muscles are especially attractive. All three have become love-muffins. But he looks the sexiest chiseled like they are.

I laughed at how dorky the three of them acted -- but couldn’t quite squelch my anxiety.


“We’ve been waiting for you, Chrissie,” Matt said a bit too loudly when he opened the door to his dorm room, in answer to my knock.

“I asked you not to call me ‘Chrissie,’” I complained.

“Did the slaves who built the pyramids tell the Pharaoh what to call them?” Tyler asked. His brow knitted.

I love it when he pretends to be tough. “Actually,” I pointed out, trying to lighten the mood, “the builders were artisans. No actual slaves were involved.”

Tyler’s face turned red. “Do you think this is a joke? Take his arms.”

Josh and Matt each grabbed me.

Surprised by their assertiveness I struggled, but they easily held me in place.

Tyler picked up a paddle, that at one time, many years ago, had been used in fraternity hazing.

It carried the emblem of our house, Turner Hall. The Greek Council had banned all paddles, other than for decorative purposes.

“Perhaps you need a reminder,” Tyler said. “Bend Chrissie over and I’ll give her a lesson as to who are her masters.”

Josh and Matt easily draped me over the back of a chair leaving my ass exposed to Tyler’s mayhem.

I kicked out, which only caused him to laugh. “If you take your paddling like a good little girl, I might have pity on you. If you fight us, I’ll only be convinced you need a stronger dose of humility.”

I gritted my teeth. “What’s wrong with you three. This is crazy.” Wrestling with them felt good, but I don’t care for this rough stuff.

“No crazier than you treating us like toys, for the last three years. We thought you were our friend, but on four separate occasions you shamed us in public by showing everyone how you could wrestle all three of us, to the ground, at the same time.” Tyler shook the paddle in my face. “It’s payback time. It’s time for you to understand how that felt for us.”

“Okay,” I said with astonishment and anger. “Swing away. I can take whatever you can dish out.” I don’t do well with pain!

“We’ll see about that,” Matt said -- but he let go of my arm.

Josh also dropped the arm he’d been holding and turned to address Matt and Tyler. “Dudes, I don’t believe in paddling. We all agreed there won’t be any punishments . . . unless Chrissie forgets her duties and doesn’t do everything we tell her . . . to the best of her abilities.”

“She doesn’t look very bright,” Matt said. “In fact, Dad said she’s one of the dullest employees he’s ever had.”

“He did not,” I argued. But the truth was I had struggled, to complete the projects I’d been given.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Chrissie,” Matt said with some menace. “We aren’t going to ask you to do anything that requires much thinking. Now . . . close your eyes and turn around toward Josh.”

I did as I was told and only opened my eyes again after I felt a mist hit my face. “You sprayed me with perfume,” I howled.

I’m stuck in this room until it wears off.

“Only the best for you, Chrissie,” Josh said. “This little bottle cost fifty dollars at Victoria’s Secret. It’s called Heavenly. That’s the way we want our maid -- to smell.”

An outrageously feminine, musky aroma filled the air . . . emanating from ME. “What’s the big idea,” I screamed. “How the hell am I going to explain how I stink to Brad?”

Josh shook his head. “You don’t ‘stink’ and your roommate knows all about what we have planned for you. We’ve told him that you’ll be doing all the cleaning of your dorm room, for the entire semester. He knows that you’re going to be dressing the part of a maid, so you might as well start smelling like one.”

“You told Brad? ‘Dressing the part?’ You three have gone off the deep end -- and are carrying our bet too far. I’m out of here.”

I rose to leave, but Tyler grabbed my arm stopping me in my tracks. “You’d better sit down,” he said. He roughly escorted me to the edge of Matt’s bed where he shoved me backward so that I, in fact, did end up sitting on it. “Do you remember that term paper you turned in for Eastern European History?”

I felt myself blush as I looked up at my captors standing over me. Things had piled up on me that semester. In a panic, I had taken a term paper from the archives at the fraternity and turned it in, as if I had written it. The papers were only supposed to be used as samples -- but I had felt I had no choice.

“I know I shouldn’t have done it. It was the wrong thing to do and I’ll always regret it.” I had told my “friends” about my cheating one night when I had one too many beers. Even though I had gotten away with it, it haunted me.

“We kept the original, the one you copied,” Josh revealed. “If you honor our bet, and do exactly what we say, your academic fraud will remain our little secret. If you choose not to do everything we say, we’ll go to the dean.”

Skylar has a zero-tolerance policy for cheating. I’m in my fifth year of Pharmacy and would lose most of my credits if I transferred to another school . . . if I would ever be accepted by any other Pharmacy college . . . which I probably wouldn’t be.

I’m screwed!

Time slowed to a crawl while the enormity of my situation sunk in.

My fate rests entirely in their hands. If I didn’t trust them so much I would be terrified. But still. . ..

My eyes scanned the dozens of psychology textbooks on Matt’s shelves.

“The dean is a friend of my father’s,” Matt bragged. “Dad donates about a million a year to Skylar, so if you’re thinking you’ll take us down with you, if we turn you in, you need to think again.”

“Life’s a bitch,” Tyler said bitterly, “and now you’ll be our ‘bitch.’ Skylar has a GLBT-friendly policy, so your dressing as a maid will be accepted . . . at least in theory -- by the administration.”

I stared into their eyes -- trying to see a glimmer of something I could pin my hopes upon -- but recognized nothing but total resolve, in all three. “You’re kidding? Right? This is all a joke. Isn’t it?”

“It’s a joke, alright,” Tyler said sourly. “It’s the same kind of ‘laughing-my-fucking-ass-off’ joke you played on us too many times to count.”

“I was just having some fun.” I stared into my hands. They had become soft over the summer, especially compared to my friend’s callous-covered skin. Also, since I hadn’t gotten out into the sun, my complexion was porcelain, while theirs had become deeply bronzed with million-dollar tans. I felt almost feminine, in contrast to them.

“And now it’s our turn,” Tyler said. He waved the paddle in my face, for emphasis.

“Do you know when the people who work for my dad are the happiest each year?” Matt asked.

I shook my head for a moment -- but then had an inspiration. “When they’re on vacation?”

“That’s close,” Matt answered, “They’re really the happiest while they’re planning their vacations. My Psych 203 professor showed us a whole study about how our anticipation of what is going to happen creates a much stronger sensation than what we feel, during the actual event.”

The intense aroma of the perfume reminded me of my surreal situation. They’re crazy! “What does that have to do with anything, asshole!” The edge on my voice sounded pathetic given their absolute command, over me.

“Maybe she does need a good spanking,” Matt argued. “Let’s test her intelligence.” He leaned down -- so that his face was inches from mine. “What’s your name, bitch?”

I stuck out my chin. “Christopher,” I shot back.

“My father was right about her,” Matt said meanly. “She’s a slow learner. Look, Chrissie, we’ve planned this for months. My dad’s given me enough money to make sure this works. He’s happy I’m standing up to you. We’re not kidding . . . having spent all summer preparing for this revenge. It’s going to happen. There’s nothing you can do about it. You can only decide how painful it’s going to be.”

“Now. . .,” Tyler said, swinging his paddle as if he couldn’t wait to use it, “. . .what’s your name?”

The room became eerily quiet . . . allowing my other senses to take over. The
overbearing-but-devilishly-sexy smell coming from ME subjugated everything else -- except my dread.

I looked from one of them to the other, for some sign of mercy -- but saw only their intense anger.

I have no choice. I’m so close to getting my degree and a paying job. I have to go along and trust that what they do won’t be too bad.

My chin dropped to my chest. I spoke in a whisper, “Chrissie.”

“What was that?” Matt asked, with a wide grin that testified to his personal triumph. “I could barely hear you.”

I had no choice and spoke again but in a normal tone . . . other than a slight break that exposed my utter fear. “My name is Chrissie. I’m your maid.”


“That’s a good girl,” Matt said kindly, which made my dilemma more frightening. “Look, it isn’t going to be awful. Your sweet perfume is a good indication of what we have planned for you. Nothing but the best for our ‘Chrissie.’ Most girls on campus . . . would love to go through what you’re going to get to do, the next few days.”

Josh picked up an iPad that had been sitting on the top of Matt’s dresser. “Today is Tuesday. Your indoctrination will occur tonight -- and over the next three nights. We will spend two hours, each of the four nights, going through, in detail, what you will do. On Saturday, your actual transformation will begin. For the next four months, you will be Chrissie, our maid. You will continue to attend your classes and will be allowed to have adequate study time. But at all times, you will remain in character.”

“You want me to walk around campus in a maid costume?” I asked incredulously.

“No,” Matt answered patiently, “a ‘costume’ would imply that you’re temporarily pretending to be a maid. What we want, is for you to totally immerse yourself in ‘being Chrissie’ so that there is no doubt in anyone’s mind who sees you -- that you are truly our maid.”

“What will I tell people to explain how I look? There are homophobic pricks all over campus, who can’t stand Myles.” Myles was the only Turner Hall fraternity member -- who had outed himself. The Greek Council had a strong policy that protected him from being voted out of the fraternity. But nothing stopped the hatred he felt, from some on campus.

Matt smiled evilly. “You’re free to tell people whatever you want. But not too many people are going to believe you’re doing this to yourself -- simply to pay off a bet. Unless you tell them about your cheating, they’ll think you’re a willing participant. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Frankly, there have been rumors about you on campus. No one is going to be all that surprised.”


They all nodded.

Matt spoke quietly. “Speculations. . .. You know. Some people think you’re a little light in your loafers.”

“And, unfortunately,” Tyler added, “if you tell anyone, about turning in someone else’s work as your own, you’ll be in jeopardy of academic expulsion.”

Despite myself -- my chin quivered, and a tear escaped from my eye.

“That a girl, Chrissie,” Tyler said sarcastically. “Turning on the faucet is the kind of girlish behavior we want from you.”

I angrily brushed away the tear and steeled myself to be much tougher. I can do this. I’ve always been good at hiding my inner feelings.

“We’ve only got about forty-five minutes left in tonight’s meeting,” Josh said while checking the time, on his computer. “We need to tell Chrissie about her big day on Saturday. It’s not going to be so bad. People are much more accepting of trans-people than they were ten years ago.”

“I’m not a ‘trans-person,’” I argued. I’m not so sure that Skylar campus is all that tolerant of . . . anything. “How can you be sure I won’t be bullied?”

“We couldn’t care less if you’re ‘accepted’ or not,” Tyler said. “Man up. You really don’t have a choice. I’d tell you to put on your big-boy pants, but that really isn’t appropriate, Chrissie.”

I glared at Tyler. To think I once told my sister that she should go out with him -- because he’s so cute. My sister! I’m glad she’s overseas this semester finishing her doctorate.

“Why are we waiting until Saturday,” I asked. Geez! That was stupid. If I’m not careful, they’ll start tonight? I need to concentrate and stay in the moment.

“We don’t have everything in place, yet,” Josh admitted. “Once we start, we want your change to go smoothly.” Josh read from his iPad. “Saturday at 8:15 in the morning, you have an appointment at New U. It’s the beauty salon, in the strip mall just to the west of campus. Samantha told us that’s where most of the girls go.”

“Samantha?” I asked incredulously. “Does she know what you have planned? First, you tell Brad . . . and now Samantha? Why did you pick those two?” I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the world. My dreams of ever dating the fabulous Samantha had just been smashed.

“Not just them . . . a lot of people know,” Matt said innocently. “We didn’t know anything about turning a jerk like you into a sweet, feminine maid . . . so we asked around.”

“No,” I moaned.

“Sure,” Tyler explained. “We wanted to do this right, so we asked a bunch of people, including some of our professors.”

They will all think I’m gay! No one will believe me. “Why?” I screamed. “Why would you ask our teachers?”

“Would you rather we had simply guessed about what we need to do, to fix you?” Josh asked.

“‘Fix’ me?”

“Of course, ‘fix you.’” Josh stated flatly -- but with what seemed to be compassion. “You’re an angry person. We believe your anger stems from your inner desire, to be female. We asked everyone we could -- how we could help you, through your gender confusion.”

“What . . . ? Are you crazy?” I sputtered. “What fucking planet are you on?”

“Chrissie,” Matt said firmly, “it’s just that sort of violent verbal outburst that has forced us to take such drastic measures, to help you. You know that I’ve taken a lot of courses about abnormal psychology. Just let us help you.”

I closed my eyes again and clenched my fists. “I - don’t - want - your - fucking - help!”

“That’s what they told us you’d say,” Josh chuckled. “You’re just like all the case studies. We expect that you will continue to deny your gender dysphoria -- as you have all your life. Thus, your frustration and the ensuing anger.”


Tyler looked pleased with himself. “We asked a couple of Matt’s professors in the Psych department. They told us it’s probably due to a chemical imbalance. That led us to the chemical engineers, who sent us to the campus clinic, and on and on. I suppose we spoke to about two dozen teachers and health professionals, all together.”

“Oh . . .crap!”

“Say what you want, Chrissie.” Tyler laughed. “Everything has been set in motion and there’s no way out, for you. Once we started talking to people, your fate was sealed. You see - - - we knew you’d be working at a desk job -- inside -- this summer, so all we had to do was build up our muscles.”

The three exchanged furtive glances.

There’s more they’re not telling me. There’s always more to life than what appears, on the surface.

Josh looked down at his iPad, again. “You’ll be at the salon from 8:30 AM until 7:00 PM Saturday evening. If you don’t show up, at the salon, on time, we’ll call you to check if something went wrong. If you simply blow off your appointment, leave campus, or fail to cooperate, we’ll be in the Dean’s office before 10:00.”

“I understand.” I stared up at all three of them.

Hey . . . I get it. “You’re not fooling me one bit. You have a real thirst, to turn me in for cheating. All the rest of this plan of yours -- this nonsense -- is window-dressing, to make it seem like you gave me a chance. Did the fraternity chapter make you go through this charade, to justify your ratting on me?”

Matt scowled. “Everyone at the fraternity is one hundred percent behind what we’re doing, for you. Once we explained your mental condition, they all wanted to help . . . mostly. Some of them had their suspicions about you wanting to be a girl -- long before we approached them.”

“Why would they think that?” I tried to form a mental picture of me willingly entering that salon four days, in the future, but the idea was so foreign it just wouldn’t register.

It isn’t like I haven’t been there before. I’ve gone along with my sister, to her weekly appointments. And, I have to go to New U to buy a special moisturizer to keep my face from breaking out. But what will it be like to go into that building, again, as a client for feminine services?

“We’re wasting time, I’ve got two hours of studying tonight I can’t blow off,” Josh said quietly and began reading from his iPad.

I craned my neck and saw a long list of ultra-feminine beauty treatments.

“First off, they will shampoo your hair and assess it. Don’t get it cut before Saturday or you’ll be fitted with a wig woven to your hair, which will be uncomfortable for you.” Josh took a sip from his beer.

They haven’t offered me any. His bottle is perspiring. . .just like me.

“Who’s going to pay for the shampoo?” I asked. “I don’t have any extra money, for anything like that. I haven’t even had a haircut, for the last six months because I can’t afford it. I need every dime I’ve got for tuition and things like food.”

“It’s okay, Chrissie,” Tyler said sympathetically. “We know the REAL reason you’ve let your hair grow so fricking long. Matt’s dad is paying for everything. You’ll like the results. The salon does Samantha’s hair. They said they could change your black hair, to exactly the shade of blonde that hers is. They’re going to cut your hair the same way they style hers.”

I laughed. “Okay . . . good joke. They can’t make hair like mine look like hers.”

“Think again, Chrissie,” Matt said. “Samantha told us her hair is naturally black. We asked Tony, who should know. Tony said the hair in her basement is as black as the hair on your roof.”

I shook my head in disbelief. The scent from the perfume they had sprayed me with was causing me to feel a little horny. I smell like a woman who wants it! My sister and mother would never wear such a bold perfume. The scents I remember from years ago were much more floral and innocent. I had been taught that smelling nice is a virtue.

“The salon will make sure that you don’t have any hair, other than what’s on the top of your head -- to give you away.” Josh pointed to an item on the list they had prepared . . . a list that would change my life forever. “We want everyone who sees you, to think you’re a girl. Excuse me . . . to ‘know’ you’re a girl.”

“Are they going to shave my body?” I asked in shock.

Josh studied his iPad. “They don’t really say, but I think the brochure that Samantha picked up for us said that you’ll be waxed -- or something like that. What’s the big deal? I can count the number of hairs you have on your chest.”

I blushed. Compared to the three of them, I’m not very hairy. Waxing’s supposed to be painful. “What about when I go home? My parents want me to be there for a family reunion over Thanksgiving. I’ve got an uncle coming from England.”

“You’ll think of something,” Matt explained. “Not having hair on your body will be a lot less humiliating to explain than why you got bounced out of college, for cheating.”

That’s harsh! They’ve got me. I’m totally and truly screwed. I’ll have to think of some plausible story, to tell my family why I’m blonde and my legs are hairless. At least, it will be November when I go home, so I won’t be wearing shorts. My sister uses peroxide in her hair, so maybe they won’t think it’s so bad.

“Once you’re hairless they’re going to give you a full-body treatment, to eliminate all your dead skin. Then they’re going to pluck your eyebrows.”

“How many?” I demanded to know. That’s one more thing I’ll have to try to explain, to Mom and Dad.

Josh shrugged. “The brochure just says they’re going to shape them. I suppose they’ll take some from both sides.”

Matt and Tyler laughed.

“Of course,” Tyler said -- mocking Josh, “they’re not going to make one side have a skinny eyebrow that’s sexily arched and leave the other one looking like a fricking caterpillar.”

I’ve never thought of it -- but I suppose my eyebrows do look like two caterpillars. I wonder how long it will take for them to get bushy, again? How long will it be before I can wear shorts, without people wondering why I waxed my legs?

“Then they’re going to pierce your ears,” Josh added.

“That’s too much. . .you guys know I hate tattoos and body piercing.” I glowered. When the four of us had gone to a tattoo parlor I had ultimately declined, while the three of them got small tattoos on their upper arms where they wouldn’t be seen, even with a short-sleeved shirt. “Remember . . . I refused to be tattooed.”

“That was one of the first times I realized what a woman you really are,” Matt said.

“That’s not fair!” Another tear trickled down my cheek at a most inopportune time. Maybe I really am a woman. Why didn’t I realize it before? I actually like the aroma of this perfume. . .BUT NOT ON ME!

“I fought for you on tattooing,” Josh said. “Matt and Tyler wanted to have your face fixed with permanent make-up -- but I talked them out of it. They wanted you to have bright red lips and blue eyelids . . . fulltime. I convinced them you should be able to pick out your own colors . . . for whatever occasion.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated on not passing out, from fear.

“You’re Chrissie’s knight in shining armor, Josh,” Matt chided. “Women get tattooed make-up every day. It’s no big deal. Chrissie, once your ears are pierced, they’ll put in drainage studs. But in a few days, you’ll be able to wear dangly earrings that will look good when you’re cleaning our rooms.” Matt looked like he wanted to break into a smirk.

Josh continued, looking proud of himself, for his efficiency in moving things along. “Then they’ll work on your toenails and fingernails. They’re going to attach extensions to your fingernails, so you’ll have long nails -- which they can paint to match your toes. They’re going to allow you to pick the color.”

“That’s easy,” I said triumphantly, “I’ll take clear polish.”

Josh shook his head. “That won’t be an option. See.” He turned the iPad to me. “The list of colors you can pick from looks to be all pinks and reds. At least, that’s what they sound like, to me.”

Damn it! If I’m going to be a blonde, I suppose a lighter pink might be best. Red might look too trashy.

“Did I mention that they’d be taking away the clothes you came in?” Josh asked. “While you’re in the salon they’ll have a gown for you to wear. They’ll have the right underwear -- panties and things -- and pads for you -- so that you look right when you leave. So don’t worry about that.”

Worry? Why would I worry when they’re going to get me the right pads? I’ll need “pads” to protect me from the beatings I’ll probably get, in the dorm.

He continued. “They will also give you a second set of clothes, to wear the next day.”

I imagine they’ll have some sort of old woman’s dresses for me to wear. They’ll make me look like a clown. “Is that all there is to the first day?” I asked sarcastically -- while wondering how I would take all the humiliation I would suffer.

Josh looked at his accursed iPad again. “No. The bulk of the day will be taken up teaching you how to apply make-up properly. You will have a lot of help with that. The girls from Beta House are going to be there to give you as much advice as you need. They were a little squeamish at first, but we convinced them that helping you become a sister was like a duty, or something, for them. They’re going to work in shifts -- because you’ll be putting on and taking off make-up for at least six hours. If you don’t get it right by 7:00, they will keep at it until after midnight so that you can do a decent enough job.”

I know a lot of Betas. What must they already think of me? “Who’s going to decide if I’m doing it good enough?” I asked.

“I am,” Matt said. “They’ve shown us a computer-generated picture of how you’ll look. Surprisingly, you’re going to be quite beautiful, almost a twin to Samantha.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You better get that word out of your vocabulary,” Josh said. “You’re only going to make your third day of transformation much harder, if you say words like that.”

“Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!”

“Maybe Chrissie needs a spanking to change her attitude,” Matt said.

Tyler swung the paddle viciously, into a pillow.

I flinched.

Matt stood too close to me -- his face a deep red. “If you don’t look one hell of a lot like Samantha, by Saturday evening, I’ll know you haven’t been applying enough effort. The computer doesn’t lie. You’ll stay there practicing -- until I get a hard-on just looking at you.”

My stomach roiled while Josh put away his iPad. “That’s pretty much the first day’s agenda. The salon will sell you a complete supply of cosmetics and a purse to carry things in.”

For some reason, I felt a strong sense of déjá vu.


On my way back to my dorm room, I did what I could to stay far enough away from everyone, so they wouldn’t smell my perfume.

‘My’ perfume. How quickly I’ve taken possession of it. Maybe I do secretly want to be a girl?

I concentrated on how I normally walked and talked. Am I swishy and don’t know it? How long have I been like this?

Bullshit. Those three are batshit crazy. I shouldn’t have picked on them so much. But what they’re doing is warped.

Brad was studying at his desk when I came into the room we shared. He didn’t seem to notice my . . . “the” perfume.

It must not be as strong a scent as I thought.

He looked up from his book. “I thought you had a date tonight.”

“A date?” How did he get that idea? “Oh . . ..” I said, “I had something planned. “I . . . uh . . . had to meet with Matt, Josh, and Tyler.”

“Hey . . . I saw those three today. Are they on steroids or what? They’re looking pretty damned tasty. Don’t you think so?”

Because of what Matt, Tyler, and Josh told him, he thinks I’m gay. And, now he wants me to tell him how much I’d like to have sex with my three friends. “I suppose they’re attractive, to the right girl.”

“Especially Josh,” Brad said. “I always thought he was the nicest one. I suppose that’s because I’ve taken so many classes with him that he’s almost like a brother, to me. Do you think of him as a brother . . . or a potential lover?”

Again . . . he wants me to talk to him about me wanting to have sex, with Josh. “He wouldn’t be my first choice, to get into bed,” I managed to get out.

He laughed maniacally. “So, it is Matt you want to jump. Or, is it Tyler.” He laughed again and then returned to his book.

That night I had my first wet dream since high school. When I woke, I couldn’t quite remember what my dream had been about, but it hadn’t involved Samantha. I’ve never had a wet dream about Samantha. Maybe I do prefer boys? And, now they say I’m going to look just like her!

Hey . . . I’ve always been straight!

On the way to the communal shower, I ran into several guys, on our floor, who asked if I’d just gotten back from a hot date.

They must smell my perfume.

I showered for fifteen minutes, to get rid of the aroma.


“This is our second night of revelation about the steps that will be taken to transform you, into a proper maid,” Josh reminded me. “Today is Wednesday. We’ll have our meeting tonight, and then we’ll also spend the next two nights discussing what else will be done to transform you.”

Today has been a nightmare. I could hardly think in my classes. I kept running into people on campus that had to know what was going to happen to me. Students. Fraternity brothers. Beta girls. Professors that I knew, who I thought would have been the ones Matt, Josh, and Tyler had reached out to . . . to supposedly help me.

By noon, I was considering leaving campus. I could go to New York and get lost in the crowd. I could make a living waiting on tables, or something. But how would I ever pay off my student loans? I’m banking on becoming a successful pharmacist. If I don’t graduate, I’ll be in debt for the rest of my life! Five years of college hasn’t been cheap.

All day long, I kept looking at my legs sticking out from my shorts and wondering how they will look without hair. If my face is that close to looking like Samantha’s, are my legs also innately feminine?

My reflection in windows, on the classroom buildings, made me wonder how changing my hair’s color and style, and then applying make-up would make me look like.

That’s crazy! It’s not possible. Samantha is an a-one babelicious. But . . . my sister had the computer thing done to pick out her latest hairdo before going overseas. She said it had been amazingly accurate! She’d kidded me about getting a program that would allow me to pick out a pretty hairdo. She always wanted a sister.

Josh started to read from their plan. “Sunday morning you can sleep in. You will go to West River Mall and walk in the front door at precisely 11:00. Your hair will be properly brushed . . . curly and wildly sexy, like Samantha’s. You will be wearing the second outfit that had been given to you the day before, at the salon. You will have applied your make-up, to look perfect, for a day of shopping.”

This is really happening. Matt had met me at the door to his dorm room and sprayed me with the same musky, sexy perfume. I’m going to have to shower, as soon as I get back to my dorm.

Brad had seen me between classes and asked if I wanted to go to a movie Sunday night. Strangely, the movie he suggested was a romantic comedy. Brad didn’t actually make it sound like a date -- but it made me wonder.

Brad’s always been so nice to me. When we go to a movie or to a restaurant he always pays. He knows that money is tight for me. I don’t have any extra . . . so last Valentine’s Day he gave me one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates as a joke, so I could feed my sweet-tooth.

“Can we talk, before you tell me any more, about the second day?” I asked.

“Talk about what? You’re not going to weasel out of this,” Matt sneered. “You’re going to be our maid.”

“I was thinking about money,” I explained. “When I graduate, I’m going to start with a salary of about $80,000 a year. I can afford to pay you guys off, rather than go through all this craziness.”

“How much are we talking about?” Josh asked.

“I was thinking about $5,000, for each of you.” That should make them all think.

It was quiet for a moment, before they all started laughing.

“Matt’s dad is paying Josh and me $10,000 — each - for our part in humiliating you,” Tyler explained. “You’re asking us to take a pay cut.”

“When I graduate, I’ll start as a foreman for my dad at $150,000 a year,” Matt said. “You don’t have enough money to bribe us out -- of what we’ve planned.”

Matt sounds like he’s lying, but I know his dad can pay him that much, if he feels like it. I can’t afford to pay them more than $5,000 a piece -- and still pay down my school loans. I hung my head. “What am I going to be shopping for, on the second day?”

“A complete new wardrobe,” The three of them said together.

They must have practiced that. “I don’t need any new clothes. Oh. . .I suppose you mean the aprons and things I’ll be wearing to be your maid.”

“Chrissie, you are thick as a brick,” Matt said. “On the first day, when you’re at the salon, we will be in your dorm room, with Brad, boxing up all your clothes. For the rest of the semester, you’ll wear nothing but the most feminine women’s clothing . . . nothing but short skirts and pretty dresses.”

“Why? Why do I have to dress like a woman?”

“Because you have to. . .to stay in school,” Josh said kindly. “All of the professors we talked to expect you to be dressed like a woman twenty-four hours a day. If you don’t, the university’s going to smell a rat. They’ll start an investigation. Once they start asking questions, they’ll look through all your schoolwork. They’re sure to find that bogus paper you handed in.”

He’s right.
“I guess I can afford to buy some girl’s shorts and blouses, but I can only spend about $200.”

Again, the three of them laughed.

Tyler thrust a finger toward me. “You’re really funny.” He then pointed to his list. “You’ll need about a dozen short skirts and dresses. And you’d better get used to how much things cost. Some of the negligees we’ve picked out for you have price tags, of more than $200 . . . each.”

“Negligees?” What will Brad think when I’m wearing sexy perfume and a negligee?

“My dad is footing the entire bill,” Matt bragged. “He’s established a total budget of $7,500 for clothing, jewelry, make-up, and accessories. We expect you to spend about $4,000 of that, on Sunday, at the mall.”

“$4,000. . .,” I choked. “That’s more than I paid for my car.”

“You need everything,” Josh said. He spun his iPad toward me and displayed a lengthy list of items. “You’re not going to believe what a pair of high-heeled shoes will cost.”

“High heels?”

Josh nodded. “We want you to wear at least two-inch heels, most of the time, and four-inch heels when you’re doing the actual cleaning in our rooms.”

Matt smirked. “You’ll need to wear extra high heels to look right with the short skirts, on the French maid uniforms you’ll wear.”

I’ve seen maids wearing uniforms in movies that probably looked something like what he’s talking about. My stomach flipped.

Josh shook a finger at Matt. “You know we agreed Chrissie can wear whatever she wants when she isn’t cleaning our room, as long as it’s sexy and part of the new wardrobe the Beta girls said she needs, to be in style.”

I quickly looked at the list again. “Bras? Why would I wear a bra?”

Matt’s face blushed. “We’ll talk about that, on the fourth night.”

Josh got back to business. “You’ll start at Victoria’s Secret on Sunday. From there you’ll go to TJ Maxx, then on to DSW for shoes. You’ll spend a lot of time at Target, and, of course, at the Uniform Store.’

“I don’t know anything about women’s clothing. There are things on that list I’ve never heard of. . ..”

“Don’t worry,” Josh said kindly. “Samantha and the Beta girls have made it easy for you. They’ve supplied a detailed list of what you need from every store -- with pictures they took with their iPhones. All you have to do, is go to the stores, ask for each item, and get it in your size. You’ll spend quite a bit of time trying things, in the changing rooms. But the stores have been alerted as to how much money you’re going to spend and they’re ready to help.”

“Have you ever bought a wedding gift?” Matt asked.

“Once,” I answered.

“It’s like that. The Beta girls have sort of ‘registered' you, at the stores.”

“You guys have seemingly thought of everything.” Despite my fear, I could feel my arousal.

“Samantha said you’ll have to take cosmetics along in your purse. With all the changing of clothes, you’ll need to refresh your make-up a lot,” Josh said helpfully.

“Be sure to follow the clothing color suggestions the girls have laid out,” Matt instructed. “If you can find it in you to let your faux male guard down, and then just allow things to happen, you will overcome the guilt you’re feeling and will lick your gender dysphoria.”

That’s enough! “Bullshit!”

Tyler picked up the paddle. “I’ve had it with her nonsense. All the stories about transformation we read indicated that a good spanking will be a game-changer. I’ll give her a dozen good raps. She won’t be able to sit tomorrow, but her head will get right.”

“Okay,” I said hurriedly. “I get the message. Are we done, for tonight?”

“Not quite,” Tyler said, while he misted me again, with Heavenly. “Brad asked that we make sure you smell really good, again tonight.”

Why? I didn’t think he’d noticed. At least, he doesn’t hate it.


When I got back to the room, Brad wasn’t there. That wasn’t odd because he often spent the night at his girlfriend’s apartment. I rushed to the showers and scrubbed myself thoroughly. Unfortunately, when I got back to the room, I found the clothes I had worn to the meeting, in Matt’s dorm room, were giving off a fairly strong sexy aroma.

I had trouble getting to sleep, thinking about the clothing I would have to wear, for the next several months. Especially troublesome were the negligees I would have to sleep in, every night.

The purpose of a negligee is to make a woman so alluring that a man can’t keep his hand off her.

I’m going to look like Samantha and I’m going to be wearing perfume and a sexy negligee. I know Brad’s hetero, but. . ..

When I finally got to sleep my dreams were strange, and I once again had a nocturnal emission. After I cleaned myself and went back to bed to try to get another hour or two of sleep, I found myself fuming.

First, Brad asks me to go to a movie with him Sunday night. To a chick-flick! He’s been in on the planning, so he knows I’ll be wearing make-up and women’s clothing. . .so it definitely is a date. AND TONIGHT, HE’S AT LAURA’S APARTMENT. HE’S GOT A LOT OF NERVE. Brad’s the cutest guy on campus. I wonder if Laura even appreciates how lucky she is?

I shook myself awake and thought about how fouled-up my thinking was becoming.

Sure . . . Brad’s my best friend and I like him a lot. But not like that.

Where am I going to be mentally, in two weeks? Six weeks? Can I keep my head together?


Everything anyone said to me the next day -- while walking around campus, seemed to have a double meaning. The boys all treated me like a sex object -- obviously sizing me up for their carnal pleasure. The girls were being so friendly, that it appeared I’d already crossed over some invisible line, toward being one of them. The extra attention from the boys was clearly upsetting, but the camaraderie with the girls felt. . .comfortable. . .and right.

I found myself daydreaming about what kinds of outfits Samantha and the Betas had picked out, for me to wear. My thoughts drifted from dread to curiosity. I looked at the girls in class, with me, and at what they were wearing. Most had on jeans or shorts with blouses. The fabrics were lighter, more ornate, and the colors much more vibrant than my boy clothes. Maybe the change they’ve planned for me will be interesting and invigorating. I’ve worked so hard to suppress how I feel . . . and now this!

I looked critically at how the girls around me had applied their make-up. It appeared that for most of them -- less was more. Although red lipstick wasn’t uncommon, it appeared most were doing things with their eyes -- much more than any other part of their face.

After a pharmacology lab, my instructor asked me to stay, to talk.

“Chris,” he started, “your fifth year is a time of great change. You’re a special student,” he added softly.

Omigosh . . . is he coming on to me?

“I’ve seen so many young students come and go. You have great potential. I just want you to know that I’m willing to put in a few extra hours, with you, if you have something special to work on . . . even a personal project.”

At that moment, I caught a whiff of my perfume. Evidently, I didn’t scrub it all off, last night. He’s so close -- he has to smell it! Does he want to kiss me? What must he be thinking? He’s definitely one of the professors Matt and the others would have consulted.

He touched my hand! It had been brief, but sparks flew. I involuntarily squirmed a tiny bit.

“I’ll think about it,” I said stupidly. Dr. Hanson is one of my favorite professors and there really isn’t that much difference, in our ages. He’s probably in his thirties and all the girls say he’s handsome.

I gathered my books and stumbled out of his lab. It was five minutes later -- before I realized I was holding them across my chest, in the classic coed posture.


That night I was surprised when they didn’t spray me with perfume when I came in the door to Matt’s dorm room.

Once again, Josh read from his iPad. “The third day will be all about deportment. We want your carriage, voice, and vocabulary to match your make-up and clothing.”

“I don’t quite understand,” I said quietly. If they’re going to be sweeties and skip the perfume, I can meet them halfway.

“You’re going to look like Samantha,” Josh explained. “She’s been a lot of help with selecting your new wardrobe. If you’re going to look so utterly feminine, you can’t spoil everything you’ve accomplished, by walking like an ape and swearing like a drunken sailor.”

I guess that makes some sense. My head was still clearly befuddled -- by being hit on, by my professor.

A serious look crossed over Josh’s face. “I’m not a big fan of corporal punishment. But for the third day of your transformation, I’ve agreed to the liberal use of the paddle, if needed. You’ve only got one day of tutelage. Matt’s found a woman who works with Miss America contestants. She’ll give you a crash course.”

I’m going to be taught to act like a beauty queen. “That’s on Monday,” I objected. “I have school.”

“You have a 9:00 lab for two hours, and then we’ll give you two hours to study from 11:00 to 1:00. If you get up at 5:30, in the morning, she can start with you at 6:00 and get in almost three hours, before you start school. She’ll stay with it until 10:00 PM, so you’ll have about eleven total hours. That’s why you have to really stay on task. Any let down, and you’ll be given a demerit by her. At 10:00, in the evening, the three of us will come to your dorm room and administer a solid whack, for every demerit.”

“Is that really necessary?” I shook my head, at the thought of a spanking. My parents hadn’t believed in that sort of thing, so it would be my first.

“Is any of this ‘really necessary?’” Tyler roared. “If I had my way, you would have a scarlet ass already. Josh has been spoiling you with his refusal to make you ‘toe the line.’”

“That’s enough,” Matt said.

Matt’s definitely the leader. Under much different circumstances, I would appreciate how forcefully he’s maintained his position in their pack. When he sets his jaw like his is now, he’s easily the sexiest of the three. I wonder if she can teach me enough in a day, so I don’t look like a boy in a dress. If I’m going to do this, I want to be as sexy as Matt, but in a feminine way.

Josh continued. “This woman knows her stuff. She’s trained seven women who finished in the top five. Two were named Miss America. She’s guaranteed that you will walk the walk. She claims to have a voice spray that has made a soprano, out of dozens of altos. She’s absolutely certain it will make you sound like every other girl, on campus. Every time you sprinkle the air with one of your normal obscenities, it will mean a demerit. I’ve had to agree, to allow Tyler to be on the business end, of the paddle.”

I shuddered and a damning tear trickled down my cheek. “I’ll try my best,” I whispered passively. I will. I’ve always tried my best. “If I mess-up, I guess you don’t have a choice, if you think I need that kind of punishment disincentive.”

Josh smiled broadly at my passive demeanor. “She’s going to teach you a daily beauty regimen. Every night, you’ll spend at least two hours making yourself look as feminine as any of the other girls, on campus. You’ll rub a ton of lotion into your skin -- so that you’ll feel baby soft.”

“Why? No one’s going to touch me,” I whined in a surprisingly timid voice. “After what you guys are forcing me to do, there won’t be any girls coming near enough to me, to know what my skin feels like.”

I saw Matt winking at Josh, but I couldn’t guess why.

“I’m very appreciative of the fact that you haven’t dosed me with perfume tonight,” I said. “It makes me have weird dreams.”

“That was my bad,” Tyler said while picking up the bottle and then spraying me. “I simply forgot.”

In a way, I really don’t mind the perfume as much as I thought I would when they first sprayed me.


Brad was waiting for me when I got back to our room. He looked up and smiled. “You haven’t forgotten about us going to the movie Sunday night?” He asked. “I already ordered the tickets online, because I’ve heard it might be a sellout.”

“I’ve got it on my schedule,” I said. “After a day of shopping, I’m sure I’ll be ready for a few hours off my feet, in a theater.”

“Shopping? I thought you hated shopping? Aren’t you the guy who buys three of everything when you go into a store -- so you don’t have to go back too quickly?”

Why is he teasing me? It’s weird knowing that he knows. I just can’t talk to him . . . or anyone else . . . about what I have to do. He’ll figure out why I’m doing it. He hates cheaters. “Some time you have to do, what you have to do.”

“No kidding . . . and tonight it’s my ‘duty’ to go to my girlfriend’s apartment.” He grinned.

His cute little smile doesn’t make him any less of a jerk. One minute he’s confirming a date with me -- and the next he’s almost telling me about his sexual exploits with that . . . girl! He’s so handsome with his gleaming white teeth and curly brown hair. But that doesn’t give him a license to do whatever he wants.

“You’re the sly one,” he said with a wink. “You come in smelling like a French whore and don’t even tell me who you’ve been with.”

He dashed out, before I could say anything but a breathy, “Bye!”


Thankfully, I didn’t have a class or lab with Dr. Hanson on Friday. I couldn’t organize how I actually felt about him. I decided the best thing to do was to sit back and see what his next move would be. If he’s really interested in me, he’ll probably wait until I start wearing skirts, to his classes.

It was a light school day, so after my two lectures, I went to the library. But all I could do was speculate about what Josh and the others would tell me in a few hours, about my transformation.

Once I’ve been to the salon, practiced what there is to know about putting on make-up, purchased a new wardrobe, and learned how to walk and talk like a girl, what could possibly be left?

I didn’t get much done in the library because a steady line of girls and guys came by to chat.

Things are definitely going to be different. I’ve never been so popular. Suddenly, it seems, everyone wants to be part of my Thursday night study group. A year ago, we had a hard time finding six people to get together to “book-it” on any given night.

Maybe this semester won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ve really do have gender dysphoria and those three stumbled upon it?


That night Tyler met me at the door and ceremoniously sprayed me with Heavenly -- but since I had forgotten to shower the night before - - and the scent was so persistent - - him spraying me didn’t really cause all that much of a change, in how I smelled.

They told me I could leave immediately. My assignment was to go back to my dorm and think about what would be happening to me. They would see me again in twenty-four hours.


The next night, Josh handed the iPad to Tyler.

“Your fourth and final day of transformation will be the most challenging,” Josh said quietly. “I’m going to let Tyler tell you about it.”

“How tough can it be?” I asked. “It seems to me I’ll already be quite feminine.”

“Feminine, yes,” Tyler leered. “But to be an accomplished maid you need a talent you’ve not developed.”

I stared at him in wonder.

“S-e-x.” He sneered. “Dudette, a good maid knows how to take care of the needs of her masters. . ..”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” I said evenly.

“Did you think this was going to be all cookies and cream?” Matt asked. “My dad never would have bankrolled this whole thing, if we weren’t going to do the Full Monty.”

I opened my mouth, but my ire was so out of control that I had lost the ability to speak.

“Again,” Tyler said with pride, “we’ve found the perfect person to tutor you.”

All I could do was shake my head violently. There’s a limit. I can only go so far -- and then I will have surrendered who I am.

Tyler grinned. “She’s a professional. We’re flying her in from Nevada, where it’s legal. She runs a brothel and will be able to teach you more in one day than you’d pick up, in a year of backseat experimentation.”

“I already know everything I need to know about sex,” I said. Tears were running down both of my cheeks. “I’ve never had any complaints in that department.”

How could any girl complain about what’s never happened?

“I told you so,” Tyler said to Matt and Josh. “I told you she’s been a cocksucker all her life.”

“Tyler!” Josh was clearly angered. “We talked about being sensitive. You know how important it is that Chrissie embraces her full female self.”

Although I appreciated Josh standing up to Tyler for me, it didn’t sound particularly good for my cause. “I’ve always been with female sexual partners,” I argued untruthfully.

“And . . . we’re going to fix that,” Tyler said. “Who would want a lesbian for a maid?” Tyler added with a chuckle as he went on, not giving me an opportunity to respond. “You’ve always said you’d do anything to go out on a date with Samantha. We’re going to make your wish come true.”

“You expect me to go out on a date with Samantha when I’m wearing make-up, perfume, and a dress?”

“That’s right. It’s all set up,” Josh said.

“Samantha has agreed,” Matt added with obvious pride.

My mind reeled. First, they try to humiliate me with talk of teaching me how to have man-on-man sex and then they line me up with Samantha. And, why, if she never was interested in me before, would she suddenly want to go out with me when I’m wearing a dress? Things are really strange.

“Well. . .,” Tyler said with a grin, “. . .Samantha is going out on a date, and you’re going on the same date, but you’re really not going to be out with one another. I suppose you could go to the ladies’ room together but I’m getting confused, on how that works.”

“What do you mean?” I asked slowly.

Tyler looked like he was going to explode with self-satisfaction. “Samantha and you are going on a double-date. She’s going to going out with Tony . . . and you’re going to be Myles' date.”

“Myles? I respect Myles for being the first guy to come out of the closet, in our fraternity, but I don’t want to. . ..”

“Of course, we had to do some negotiating, with Myles,” Josh said, interrupting me. “He said he thought you would be a cute date but he had to be sure you’d put out.”

“I’m not going to have sex with Myles,” I said without much conviction, realizing that they were telling me that was exactly what I was going to do. Myles is nice enough and handsome, but. . ..

“That was the only way we could convince him to take you out,” Josh explained patiently.

“But why is so important that I go out, on a date?” I asked, staring down into my hands, which were clasped on my lap.

“My dad,” Matt explained. “My dad made it a deal-breaker, if we didn’t get you out, on a double date, with Samantha. In fact, it was his idea. He heard you talking about Samantha, all summer long, and loved the irony.”

“And Myles was a tough negotiator.” Josh seemed apologetic. “You have to give him a blowjob, and you have to allow him to take you up your. . ..”

“No!” The idea of Myles forcing me to have anal sex with him seemed horribly wrong.

“There’s no other way,” Josh explained. “No one else, in the fraternity, would take you out. We asked nearly everyone on campus, at least everyone we know, and Myles was the only one. And, he had his demands. You have to be taught how to pleasure him.”

Again, I had seemingly lost the ability to talk, but my tear ducts worked overtime. I felt overwhelmed by old memories and new thoughts. I clenched my fist and my fingernails dug into my palms. I always filed them rather than using a nail-clipper, so I could keep them a little longer than the others in my fraternity. Their fingers always look stubby.

“The whore-trainer said she had a sure-fire way, to teach you. . .by using bananas.” Matt seemed conflicted, almost disgusted about what I was being forced to agree to do.

My tongue rolled in my mouth, as I imagined the hummer I would give that banana. I found myself strangely wondering about how Myles would taste.

I can’t. I shuddered. Maybe I can drive a wedge between Josh and Tyler and perhaps Matt will cast the deciding vote, to get me out of this situation.

“Josh,” I pleaded, “please help me. You know I don’t want to do this. It isn’t natural for me.”

He nodded. “You don’t think it’s natural, because society has made you feel guilty about your ‘natural’ inclinations.”

“Josh . . .no.” I’m sunk.

He looked at the other two, before speaking.

They both nodded.

Josh cleared his throat before proceeding. “We have to tell you something.”

I tried to make eye contact with Matt and Tyler but they both looked away.

“Those vitamin supplement pills you took all summer. . ..”

I nodded.

Josh continued. He sounded contrite, as if he was confessing a horrible wrongdoing. “They weren’t vitamins, actually. We got them from the chemistry department. They’re pills to stop all the testosterone production, in your body. They were the maximum dose allowable.”

Maximum dose? “What would happen to me, if I took too many?”

“I told you guys it was too dangerous,” Josh said. “If you took more than one a day, for any length of time, you would make irreversible changes to your body. You’re scheduled to have a hormone shot on your fourth day of transformation, that will cause your breasts to grow rapidly -- and to a very large size. But . . . if you’ve taken too many pills, that shot won’t be necessary.”

“Why?” I asked hurriedly. “Why won’t that shot be necessary?”

“Because an overdose of those pills will chemically castrate you and switch your body’s chemical production, to creating female hormones. In less than six months, your primary sexual characteristics will have changed completely from male to female. Your mind would have already switched, so that you’d be thinking of very little else besides sucking cock.”

The next five minutes were lost on me. Josh stuck a piece of paper in my hand that told where to be on Tuesday, and at what time, to get my “sex” training.


I made the walk back to my dorm in a tear-stained cloud. Questions about gender and sexuality I had dealt with years ago -- resurfaced. When I got back to my room it was dark. I figured Brad had gone out for the evening. I stripped and then crawled into my bed.

I can’t even stand the idea of sleeping in my male pajamas. Better to sleep naked. In just a few days, my world has been turned upside down and inside out. Everything I thought I knew about myself has been a lie.

I felt the uncertainty I had lived through, in my early teen years.

An hour later, I was still awake and hadn’t stopped wailing, for even a moment.

The door opened and light from the hall outlined Brad coming in. He took one look at my face covered with tears and sat on my bed to console me.

“I don’t . . . know . . . what to do,” was all I could get out, between sobs.

His strong arms pulled me onto a consoling hug. “It’s okay. Gee -- your after-shave smells good. Hush now, whatever is bothering you can’t be as bad as all that.” His hand rubbed my shoulder.

That feels nice. “I don’t . . . want it . . . to be about . . . sex . . . for the sake . . . of sex,” I managed. I melted a bit into his body.

“Shhhh.” He pulled me into a firm embrace . . . which felt great. “I totally agree. Sex should only occur between two people who have intense feelings for each other. I’m glad we don’t live, in the day of men’s room hookups.”

My hand brushed his crotch. . .and I felt his excitement. I too, was hard and ready.

What the heck! My body is a long ways down the road toward being fully female, I might as well admit it and start my life as a woman.

My hands went to Brad’s face and slowly pulled it to mine, so that our lips could fuse together.

I arched my neck gracefully to accept the role I had cast for myself by taking all those pills. My mouth opened wide . . . eagerly accepting my new position as a receptacle. I wanted as much of him in me, as possible.

My fingers lovingly caressed Brad’s face noting the stubble he’d grown during the day. I contrasted his chin with how smooth I would have to keep my skin to satisfy . . . everyone. “Ohhhhhhhh!”

Brad had found my breast with his mouth.

He’s really good at . . .. “Mmmmm! Mmmmmm! Mmmmmmmm!”

He laughed and his broad chest rumbled pleasantly. “You sound like a pleased little chipmunk.”

I smiled into his eyes. A chipmunk! That sounds so sweet. I want to be his ‘little chipmunk’ more than anything in the world.

One thing led sweetly and naturally, to another. Less than an hour later, I had done everything for Brad that Myles had stipulated I would do for him, on our ersatz date. And, I had enjoyed it . . . immensely.

Brad whispered promises, including rearranging our room so that we could shove our beds together, which would make a bold statement to everyone.

“You’ll love me in bed, even more after I learn a few things, over the next few days,” I said in that glowing moment, before we fell asleep, in each other’s arms.

He didn’t answer, apparently already asleep.

I followed him into a contented slumber.


There was a note on my desk when I woke the next morning. It was three of the most marvelous words imaginable.

“I love you.” Nothing more . . . but everything.

Brad had left the perfect message.

I put Brad’s note, in a special place . . . vowing I’d keep it for life.

I quickly got ready, dressing in what I felt were incongruent boy’s clothing. It’s the last time I’ll have to wear yucky boy clothing, for at least the rest of the semester.

While I walked toward my destiny at New U, I struggled to stay in the moment.

My mind kept leap-frogging, over the next few days of intense discovery and learning . . . to the wonderful finished product I would become. I imagined the soft folds of my maid uniform’s skirt caressing my legs, which would be encased in the stockings I would no doubt wear.

I hungered for the comfort of having my face painted to rival Samantha’s. I was already walking in that “floaty” short-stride way that I had seen girls use the last few days when I had been watching them for feminine clues.

Of course, I won’t be starting from scratch. My sister had made me walk in her pencil skirts and heels for hours. It’s been hard always acting like a boy, after all my girl training, during my teen years. I now realize that when I get stressed, I fall back on the feminine postures my mother and sister drummed into me.

My sister had teased me constantly about how I should have been her little sister.

When I was twelve and she was sixteen she took it to another level. Whenever Mom and Dad had her babysit me, she would talk me into taking a lavender bubble bath, cover my face with make-up, and convince me to wear her old dresses. It was our little game.

Omigosh! She had called me “Chrissie”, too. One time, she even got me to go to a movie with her -- wearing her clothes. She had giggled when she said she would make me sit in the dark theater, next to a friend of her boyfriend. She said he would put his arm around me and probably kiss me on my glossy red lips. She had been joking, but I loved the risk we were taking. Luckily for me, no one recognized me as a boy.

The only reason anyone ever found out was that she took a picture of me and left it lying around where Mom found it. Mom said I looked cute . . . and said I could use her wig, again, any time I wanted.

Sure, I had a lot of thoughts about how it would have been in that theater had Sis actually found a date for me. But that was all fantasizing. Damn . . . I’ve wasted so many years with self-denial.

My mind flashed to my sister’s closet. As a boy, I’d spent hours sitting in her closet thinking about what I would wear had I been born a girl.

It wasn’t like her clothes were forbidden fruit.

Whenever Mom joined in and had me put on her wig and dressed me in one of my sister’s old outfits, I always thought I looked best in a lighter-colored lipstick. I’ll definitely choose a light pink, this morning, for my nails.

My stomach is aching in anticipation of how incredibly horrible Sunday might be. It could be a lot like that night in the movie theater . . . terrifying, but maybe a little fun and exciting. I just need to adopt the same positive attitude I had as a teenager.

I looked at my stubby fingers and couldn’t wait to see how lengthy nails would make my hands look. Elegant, I hope. Thank goodness, for all those hours Mom and Sis made me practice polishing my nails.

Mostly, I thought about more sex with Brad. The muscles I had used the previous evening, to do new, wonderful things ached -- in an extremely pleasant way. I wished the moments would fly by, to another night with him.

My sister had meticulously prepared me, for last night. As a joke she made me read all the magazine stories she could find about “How to Satisfy Your Man.” One night, when the two of us were alone, she made a hole in her panties and stuck a skinned zucchini through it. I knelt in front of her in my skirt and sucked on that zucchini -- while she reached inside my bra and played with my breasts.

Brad’s “zucchini” is much nicer.

Another time, my sister had “borrowed” my mother’s dildo. It had a vibrator and she used it to bring me to four earth-shaking orgasms. She never did that again, no matter how much I begged. Other than the pretend sex with my sister, I had lovingly given Brad my cherry.

Dad will understand.

My father had surprised Mom, Sis, and me playing our game one Saturday when his golf game had been canceled by sudden rain. He walked in on me trying on my sister’s sweet-sixteen party dress. He looked shocked at first but explained that was only because I looked exactly like my mother -- when he had first fallen in love with her. He had gently kissed me on the forehead.

Later that day, Mom had taken me aside and cautioned me about the “hot blood” that flowed in our family’s veins. She said that Dad could be “very aggressive.” I was careful never to allow him to see me in a dress, again, because I was afraid he might want to have sex with me.

Further, because Dad got carried away and had been so unrestrained in his compliments about his “new, gorgeous daughter” he’d hurt my sister’s feelings quite badly. The family subsequently made a decision that for the sake of everyone, I needed to stop playing “my game.”

But it hadn’t really been a “game.” By tonight, I’ll know a lot more about how to use make-up to be much more attractive. My body will be smooth and when my darling Brad kisses my nipples he won’t have to negotiate an icky, hairy chest.

I felt myself becoming intensely aroused by my mostly subconscious erotic thoughts. I rushed toward my future with a fast-paced, yet dainty, walk.

At 8:15 I approached the front door of the New U. I felt completely ready for a full transformation.

Brad loves me. I’m going to be perfect for him, in four days.

A sign on the door said, “Closed.”

“They’re not open on Saturday until 10:00.” I recognized Josh’s voice and turned to find him, Matt, and Tyler walking toward me.

All of them were grinning.

Do they know about last night . . . with Brad? “Why did you have me show up at 8:15, if they don’t open ‘til 10:00?”

“It’s all been bullshit,” Matt said. “Did you really think my dad would put up $7,500 to help me? That cheap bastard gives me $5,000 a year for walking-around-money, only because the court ordered that amount when he and Mom split.”


“We just wanted you to know how helpless and foolish you made us feel,” Josh explained. “We don’t have a copy of that term paper. And if we did, we would never rat on you. That was all crap about people gossiping about your sexuality.”

Huh? “Then why did you talk to all the teachers and everyone else on campus researching my gender dysphoria?”

“The only research we did was a few hours of online reading. No one outside of the four of us knows anything about this,” Matt said. “Do you really think the three of us have enough connections, to have talked all those girls, into doing the things we said they did?”


“That’s the biggest joke,” Tyler said. “She has never given any of us the time of day, and probably never will.”


“Myles has been in a committed relationship since his sophomore year, in high school. As far as we know, they’re engaged.”

“But . . . Brad . . .?”

Josh laughed. “We certainly didn’t talk to Brad. Geez, you have to live with the guy. He could be homophobic, for all we know. Nahhh. It was all a big joke, and I’m glad it’s over.”

“But . . . the pills?” They’ve made my breasts so sensitive and soon they’re going to be plump. Brad will love them.

“I told you guys he bought it,” Josh claimed. “I’ll bet you were eating those pills like candy, right?”

I nodded.

“I knew you would. You’re such a freak, about being buff.”

“And now I’m. . .?”

All three of them laughed uncontrollably.

“They’re placebos,” Matt explained triumphantly. “You lost muscle tone because you didn’t go to the gym, for an hour a day, like you did during the school term.”

“Yeah,” Josh added. “If they had any other apparent impact on you, it’s all in your head. But . . . if you want to give us each $5,000, we’re not going to argue.”

I looked wistfully at the salon . . . thought about my past . . . Brad . . . and my future.

The End

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a kudos and a comment. They mean a lot to me.

Thanks to Gabi for the review and help.

I have donated a group of stories to BC to help generate revenue for this site. Erin has said that these stories have raised tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for BC. I don’t receive any of that revenue.

If you buy a book from this list, you’re supporting this site.

Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:
Shannon’s Course
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Texas Two-Step
All Those Things You Always Pined For
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Imperfect Futures
The Handshake That Hides the Snake

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I knew it...

Andrea Lena's picture

...it's all in my head. Oh yeah...I believed that already. It's always hard for me not to look to 'cause and effect' regarding my own gender issues; which came first? The crystal plumage or the Faberage Egg? It's almost like being hynotized except without the trance or the swinging gold watch to get my attention; the 'suggestion' for me at least was a reminder instead all along. Your stories always grab me and sometimes shake me, and this one did. I'd like my dose of placebos now, if you don't mind? Thank you!


To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Was a good Story


It was a good story till the end; while I am not crazy about forced changes a moderation of it would have been good. Because Tyler and Brad have hit it off. I take it back you wrote a very good and convincing story.

Hugs, JessieC

Jessica E. Connors

Jessica Connors

Glad You Stuck Around

Writing the kind of stories I do requires faith that the reader will have faith.

I like to take old formulas and turn them inside out.


Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Turner Hall

Has me thinking that the gaslighting brought out the truth about their victim.

May Your Light Forever Shine


I was scared she would be forced to have sex and instead she ended up with a great guy she actually loves ...

Thank you for going the sweeter route.



I thoroughly enjoyed this story. It was for me a mind expanding story and my imagination ran wild. I can see the three being upset with their friend and his constant way of embarrassing them. I began to believe that the three were sincerely serious on rebuffing their friend and showing him had bad humuliation can really be.
His past life was revealed and that was the catalyst for his intimacy with Brad.
I am glad you are still around, I miss the chatting with you. Its been a long year since vascular surgery and I have my left leg yet to go through surgery.
I have just began to write again and find myself pre reading before I write and correcting any grammar or sentence misconfiguration. Its a time consuming ordeal for me, going through infinite times of depression.
I've just started reading at this site angain and am glad my mentor has resurfaced.
Thank you for the brain tickler and as always I enjoyed reading what you write.

Jill Micayla
Be kinder than necessary,Because everyone you meet
Is fighting some kind of battle.

Jill Micayla

You're a true inspiration for me. I have two grown children who struggle with depression and admire how you have carried on.

The theme of my story is that what we think is more powerful than what other people think is our reality.

Your resolve is amazing!


Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Let me say Angela I enjoyed the story!

I was really getting into it but as I watched the page cursor getting closer to the bottom I knew it was going to be a wrap up soon and almost but not quite guessed the end.

Nice twist, not as macho as first appearances indicated?

Great story, thank you.

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)


The surprise ending is what caught me unaware, Angela.

It seems Chrissie came out to Brad because she wanted to. But the three co-conspirators had wanted Chrissie to be humiliated, and humiliated she was. I cannot call our heroine a he or by any other male pronouns or appellation. That is because Chrissie gave of herself as a female to her dorm mate, Brad, willingly. It would be something to find out that Chrissie had always wanted to be female, and that is why she didn't mind the "games" her sister and mother "played" dressing her up in her sister's old dresses and things. A very good story with mental images that are very vivid. Thank you for sharing.

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

Turning Worms

joannebarbarella's picture

Over-compensation all round! "Chrissie" had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the light and the three lads have wrought enormous unintended consequences, but Chrissie was there to be discovered, hidden even from herself.

Vintage Angela and it's a pleasure to see you back, Jill,


As always a very good read,

KristineRead's picture

As always a very good read, when the byline says, Angela Rasch!

I haven't had a lot of time to read of late, but glad I saw this one. Sometimes a practical joke can backfire in a good way, believe me I know... My wife and I are here today because we decided to play a practical joke on two of our friends that kept trying to set us up... I guess they were right...

Hopefully, Chris and Brad will too.

Thanks Angela!



It turned out to be a very nice story

I'm really not in all forced things. At beginning it seemed like it was meant for evil no matter deserved or not, anyway it was meant for evil. Then there was a note, the same that Chrissie put in a very special place and whole story wasn't so dark anymore.

Sorry I can't make cudos up to 100.


So the joke is actually on Josh, Matt, and Tyler nice ending.

hugs :)
Michelle SidheElf Amaianna

Real horrorshow!

laika's picture

In a strange way Chris's unpleasant style of friendship with his fraternity brothers reminded me of Alex in A Clockwork Orange- a tyrant who kept his three droogs in line with violence, intimidation and humiliation, assuming it was his right to be the leader since he was smarter than them. But even in their chummiest moments as a gang of fun-loving sociopathic assholes there was that growing resentment on the part of his underlings; until they tolchoked him upside his gulliver with a milk bottle in the middle of a krast and left him lying there bleeding for the millicents to pick up. Which totally surprised him, he thought they were his friends!

Likewise Chris was totally shocked by how much anger his pals had toward him, and that they would go to such lengths to get payback. It wasn't pleasant and if this story had been by anyone else I would have stopped reading about halfway through their litany of promised abuses; but I'm glad I didn't.

SPOILERS AHEAD: Their plan for revenge wasn't as excessive as they'd let on (the motivation of most villains in actual forced fem stories strikes me as so preposterous I've risked giving myself eyeball-whiplash from rolling them) and their blackmail was all bluff. It was enough to throw a bit of a scare into Chrissie and the outcome was good for her in ways they never imagined. I hope she'll be brave enough to continue her journey of self discovery on her own, with or without the maid's uniform...
~hugs, Veronica

It Takes A Special Reader

Some of my stories are hard to wade through.

How many different ways can you say, "Don't be an asshat. There are consequences."

Their joke would have been without merit or consequences had Chris' mind not been seasoned and readily receptive.

Note that he has thoughts about his friends that are beyond heterosexual AND his roommate has been courting him.

That's not to say that his life will be immeasurably better. What they did to him is traumatic. There could be another book about the "Residue". Oh wait -- I did write that -- some time ago.

Thanks for you're faith.


Angela Rasch (Jill M I)


Wendy Jean's picture

A good read.