Seasons of Change - Book 3 - Part 2 of 3 - A Losing Season

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Seasons of Change
Book 3 - Part 2 of 3
A Losing Season
An Alternative Ending to Seasons of Change

by Tigger

Copyright © 1998,2012 Tigger
All Rights Reserved.

 


 
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction intended for the entertainment of adults in localities where it is legal for them to enjoy this type of work. If you are not a legal adult, you should not be reading this and moreover, you are abusing the trust someone put in you when they gave you access to the Internet. If it is illegal to read this, then you already know that you are violating the terms of your Internet access. Please leave. If you don't enjoy adult or erotic stories, why are you here?

Archiving and reposting of this story *unchanged* is permitted provided that no fee be charged, either directly or indirectly (this includes so-called "adult checks") *and* provided that this disclaimer and attribution to the original author are maintained.

Based on the characters and situations presented in "Seasons of Change" by Joel Lawrence, Copyright 1989.

Author's Note: This story represents an alternative ending to Mr. Lawrence's story. It is essentially a parallel universe story where things start out the same, but follow a much different path than the one portrayed in the original story.

This is my second inspiration from this story. My first derivative story, "A Second Season" starts where the original author's work stopped. This story takes place following the day described in Chapters VI and VII of Joel Lawrence's Seasons of Change. Essentially, it is a darker vision than the one I wrote of in "A Second Season".

Setting: The lead male character, Michael Nash, has been suspended from his very elite private school, St. Andrews Academy. With the concurrence of the school dean, he has been sent by his mother to live with her old friend, Jane Thompson who will attempt to teach the young man (late teens) control and self discipline.

"Aunt" Jane employs a "Victorian" type training program to tame undisciplined boys. She does this training by means of a delicately balanced regimen of humiliation and enforced feminine deportment. She is assisted in this program by her housekeeper (Maria) and several business women including the owners of a beauty salon (Carolyn and Sandra) and the proprietor of a combination dress and lingerie shop (Mrs. Franson). The other key player is David/Beth, one of Jane's feminized boys who is still living with her and who is required by Jane to "guide" (and setup) the new student.

Michael knows nothing about this, and is slowly "trapped" into Jane's program of petticoat dominance. Jane forces him to accept her program or lose his chance to return to St. Andrews because the dean will only readmit him after Jane certifies that he has been reformed.

As we begin our account, Aunt Jane, David/Beth and Michael/Michelle have returned to Jane's house from Michelle's initial public outing disguised as a girl. They have visited Carolyn and Sandra at the Marisha Chalet where he was humiliated by their taunting and terrorized during a make-up session as Carolyn's training subject, and at Mrs. Franson's "The Style Shoppe/MiLady's Closet" where he had to maintain his tenuous disguise in the presence of the young female shop clerks while dressed only in lingerie.

Each member of this unlikely trio is flushed with different emotions at the end of their long day of shopping for dresses and lingerie, and of feminine primping at the beauty salon. Michelle has been ordered to go up to her room and put away her new dainties, cosmetics and clothing while Jane and Beth retire to her study.

This story departs from the original tale at this point in time. ~Tigger
 


 
 
Chapter 14. Facing an Old Nightmare
 
Carolyn and Sandy were surprised when the Jane's girls showed up the next morning without Jane. "Where's Jane, girls?" had been Sandy's question as Beth and Michelle both exited the taxicab.

"Oh, she told us to just come and have a good time, Sandy." had been Beth's smiling response. "We're big girls, now." she teased.

"But. . but. . .but how will we know what to do to you without Jane here? Unless," and she turned to face her partner. "Did Jane call you with orders for these two, Caro?"

Carolyn's and Michelle's "No." came out in unison. Both shop owners returned their eyes to face the two young women at their door. "What you will do *for* us, Sandy, is what you would do *for* any other regular paying customer." Michelle said with only a hint of smug arrogance. "That is, what we ask you to do and what will make us look our best."

"Jane agreed to that?" the disappointed Sandy asked. She'd hoped that Michelle's return to the fold meant that everything was back to normal. Of the two partners, she'd always enjoyed her little games with the helpless boys far more than Caro who felt like she was dispensing bad tasting, but necessary medicine.

Both Beth and Michelle nodded, smiles splitting their lips.
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 16 July - Day 1

Dear Diary

God, I don't think I am ever going to get used to writing that, but Aunt Jane says it is part of the drill. I have never been much of a journal keeper, so this may be a bit spotty. Eric says that good psychological research starts with good self reflection and that journals are a useful way to do that. Jane says I might want a record for the future, so I can remember more clearly and more objectively what happened in this oddball period of my life. I also think Eric wants some sort of reference as to what was happened if I trip off the deep end again. Anyway, I promised to try.

Well, I am sitting here, rigged out in one of two new blond wigs. The one I am wearing is the shorter of the two, falling only a bit below my shoulders. It is long enough for dress up and short enough that I can be active and athletic in it. The other one is almost waist length and is suitable for braiding, or for as Sandy said in one of the evil teases she still can't quite resist, for "big hair". She looked much too pleased with that idea. I don't think I want more than an intellectual acquaintance with "big hair".

My nails are and will continue to be a problem for some time to come. I did such a number on the last ones that a couple of them may not have enough real nail for the acrylic to bond to. Caro thinks I may have to come back soon for another treatment. And they are shorter than last time. Still longer than Michael ever wore, but not so long and sharp that I might have to register them with the police as lethal weapons. But, they still catch on EVERYTHING. I have ruined two sets of nylons since returning home to Jane's today.

Tomorrow, Jane is taking me back to Mrs. Franson's place to replace the clothes that I, or rather, Michael destroyed. This time, however, I will be treated like a customer, and not like an impromptu lingerie model. Jane already has that set up since she needed to pick a time when the girls who helped us last time won't be working. Hard to explain two such blowout shopping trips in less than two weeks.

Eric is looking for a dressing-friendly psychologist in the area for me. Not to deal with dressing aspects of this since he thinks I will respond well on my own to whatever decision is right for me. No, he's worried about the fallout from Michael's breakdown, and helping me to learn to deal with such anger before ever it gets to that point again.

Well that's about it for tonight, I guess. Except to say that this thinking of myself in the feminine tense is a bitch. . . oops. . .pardon me. This feminine self perspective is highly unnatural and I am having a great deal of difficulty with that dictum of Aunt Jane's at this time. Sigh. . .she also told me I needed to "feminine up", as in clean up, my language. She is going to keep track and assign demerits for each failure to speak in "a pleasing feminine voice and with feminine sophistication" 100 demerits and yours truly gets 10 minutes sucking on a soap bar and I won't be able to rinse for the remainder of the 100 minutes. I tasted Aunt Jane's soap tonight, just as a precaution.

It is not an insignificant threat on her part. Unfortunately, I figure it won't be the last time I taste the vile stuff. I have lived in all male environments far too long, dammit. Ooops, I mean, Golly!!

Somehow, "golly" lacks for something in expressing my feelings. This is going to be REALLY hard.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 15. Fond Farewells
 
Eric stayed on for a couple of more days after the second great shopping expedition and his quiet good humor helped to ease the transition for both Michelle and for Jane.

Michelle was upset by his imminent departure when she, Jane and Beth accompanied him to the airport, but Eric promised to visit. "I will even bring Sylvia, my wife, the next time. I've told her about you and she is very anxious to meet you." then he gave that quirky grin of his. "Although, if you want to meet her as Michael, you'll have to come to Chicago to visit us, but bring some Michelle clothes if you do, please? Erica's stuff is too mature for you, dammit, and the coloring is all wrong."

The comment bothered the girl, he saw. For all her strength of will and commitment to the goal of becoming Michelle, of going beyond a mere masquerade, *this* Michelle was still essentially Michael in skirts. He had a long way to go before *he* became the *she* that he needed to become, and Eric did not want to make these first days any more difficult than they needed to be for her. "Michael," he said very softly, "My wife *will* welcome you as Michael, and she won't press, but she *would* truly like to meet Michelle. But that is and will remain your choice. No one will try to pressure you one way or the other, nor will you be made to feel guilty about whatever decision you make. Sylvia is not the Aunt Jane you had to deal with your first few weeks here, okay?"

"Okay, Eric." Michelle responded, unwilling to make any more commitments so soon after the one that had him back in skirts and wondering about his sanity. "I will miss you."

The young psychologist reached into his wallet and pulled out a calling card. "My home, work and emergency phone numbers are on that card. So is my email address, although you don't have a computer here."

"Jane said she'd get one since I will be going to school for real and will need one for school work." Michelle giggled at the memory. "I think she is a bit cyber-phobic. Jane turned a lovely color of puce at the mere thought of having such a technical monstrosity invade her lovely Victorian home." They both glanced over at Jane, who did look just a little ill at that. Michelle dropped her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper "I promised to hide it in my room and to keep it covered in a pretty chintz throw when it's not in use."

"See how well you are progressing, Michelle? How many boys would even know there *was* a color called puce or a material called chintz, let alone know what either one actually looked like?" teased Eric.

She did a fairly good job of blushing that color herself. Eric stood and pulled the resisting boy/girl into a hug. He just held her against her instinctive reaction to pull away, surprising her with his strength. "You are going to have to get used to things like this, if you are going to pull off the grand plan, Michelle." he whispered softly. "It's just a hug between friends. Now, kiss me on the cheek like a good girl and wave good bye as I board the plane."

He wondered, as Michelle pulled back and stared at him in wide eyed disbelief, if he had pushed just a little too hard. Then she scrunched up her face, closed her eyes, leaned over and planted a very brief, very prim peck on Eric's cheek. Because her eyes were still tightly shut, she couldn't dodge when Eric returned the compliment. "Be well, Michael-Michelle, and be sure to call me if you need to or even if you just want to."

Jane and her two wards waved as Eric entered the jetway and boarded his flight. When she turned to look over at Michelle, she saw a single track of mascara, marking a dark rivulet down her flushed cheek. She nodded, pleased with the response, and handed her ward a tissue.

"Thank you, Aunt Jane." she whispered as they turned back toward the main terminal.

As they walked down the corridor, Jane spied a sign, thought for just a moment, and decided that an opportunity not taken was an opportunity lost. "Beth." she said aloud, thinking that the first such lesson should not be *too* daunting. "Take Michelle into the ladies room so that she can fix her face. She looks two-toned where the mascara streaked across her blusher."

The look of abject horror on Michelle's face was only slightly more terror-stricken than the matching one on Beth's. She grinned, thinking that this was a lesson she had never really dared pull on her students before, but this was a special case and Michelle would need to learn her way around what Jane thought of as the "Secret Society of the Powder Room."

They made no motion toward the open door, so Jane gave them both "the look" she'd used to such effect in her days as a petticoat disciplinarian. Shoulders drooping, the unhappy pair slowly turned. Jane caught Michelle's arm and put her lips to the girl's ear. "Now, just fix your face, dear. Don't let that crude boy Michael try and peak at any of the ladies who might be, shall we say, en dishabille in there? It is so crowded here today, there might not be enough stalls for all the women who want to get out of their travel clothes."

She almost laughed at the color that flamed her ward's face, but the little jab did the trick as Michelle started moving more resolutely toward the ladies room. Jane only smiled, and hoped that there was at least one reasonably attractive lady changing where her girls could see her. They'd be so disappointed otherwise.

When the twosome exited the restroom, Jane thought they might be walking just a bit funny, as if something was making it difficult for their upper legs to move quite as freely as normal. Well, one took lessons and rewards for jobs well done where one found them.
 
 
Chapter 16. First Discipline
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 21 July - Day 5

Dear Diary

Less than one week into the trial period and I have already achieved my first 100 demerits for unladylike discourse and language. Seems like every time I turn around, there is Jane with that blasted green pocket notebook, noting down some indiscretion or miss-speech, (perhaps that should be mister- speech on my part). Today, she caught me cursing when I ran yet another set of hosiery with these damned, err. . . darned fingernails. So tonight, after dinner, I will present myself in her master suite, wearing my nightgown, for correction.

As far as the rest of it, the new clothes are okay. Beth is absolutely jealous about one of the new dresses, or at least she says she is since for the most part she is still wearing the stuff that Jane bought during the punishment phase of her stay. I tried loaning it to her, but she is just enough different in size and coloring from me that it does not work for her.

Its odd, but I am beginning to recognize when something, like a dress or a make-up job, are wrong, but I have trouble visualizing ahead of time what would be right. I wonder if the other women in Jane's little circle would work with me, too. Sandy would, if only to get her clutches on me, again. Caro is a little more reserved, but I think she'd let me into her Wednesday group once I know enough not to mess up with those other real girls around. Maybe I can be her make up dummy again, just to get in with the other girls. OMIGOD. . . did I just say *other* girls? Oh my.

Mrs. Franson is another story altogether, and one of those frightening unknowns that I have learned to approach very cautiously. She is still very reserved around me - did not say even a single unnecessary word to me the entire time Jane and I were there. Guess she was afraid I would shatter all over her shop if she teased me in the slightest.

Another downer, for me at least, is that Jane gave Beth, or rather David his acceptance letter today. Evidently, she had been holding it until the last moment. He is going off to college at a university in Illinois in the fall semester. I am going to miss my big sister, and I am more than a little nervous about being the only sissy in the house. Jane has promised to tone down her games, but what if she starts feeling deprived? Oh, well, I will have about a month and a half without David before I have to make the final decision after Michelle's trial period.

I am also getting antsy. It's summer and I really feel the need to go out and get some exercise, to run and go play some tennis or something. Most of these early lessons in the feminine mysteries have been pretty sedentary, unless you count high heeled endurance walking as exercise. It hurts like exercise, especially in my arches and in my shins, but I don't think it does much for my cardiovascular fitness. Guess I need to talk to Jane about this. God. . .err, goodness knows what she will come up with this time.

Michelle Nash

~------------~

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 21 July - Day 5

Dear Diary

SHIT! GODDAMN HER! BITCH!! SLIME GODDESS OF THE WESTERN WORLD!!

There.

All the things I wanted to scream at Jane but did not deem wise given the circumstances of our meeting.

The god damned soap was in the shape of a man's cock! And it was HUGE - half again as long as Michael's and almost twice as thick! I could barely get my mouth around the thing. Jane was at her very best at being her very worst, too. Telling me how this particular discipline was also practice for when I started going out with boys. "A girl who can't let a boy in her panties needs other skills, dear. Now see how deep you can get *him* before you gag too much."

She even made me touch up my lipstick before she started the punishment, telling me that I would always be properly made up and coiffed for correction. "To emphasize and affirm our goals, dear even in your times of greatest stress."

Right.

And it had absolutely *nothing* to do with the fact that she took a picture of me with that damn thing in my mouth with her instant camera, either.

Did I mention that the thing tasted absolutely vile? Even worse than the bar soap? The ninety minute wait was awful. I must have used a half a bottle of mouth wash and most of a tube of toothpaste getting the taste *almost* out of my mouth.

When I told Beth, the little bitch *laughed*. She nearly fell off her chair and when she finally stopped laughing for a few seconds, she actually had the gall to ask if she could see the picture. I have only one thing to say to that, which of course, I did not say to her.

Pay backs are hell, sister.

As for the root cause of my problem, I am going to start keeping track of my own little curses, just as a reminder to myself not to do them. Also, to make sure that Jane isn't padding the count. I think she enjoyed my little trial just a bit too much tonight. Its not that I don't trust her, but I guess I don't trust her. Not when she is plotting her little tests, I don't.

I am going to brush my teeth again and go to bed. It has been a long day and a longer evening.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 17. First Confrontation
 
As if the previous night's punishment had not been humiliating enough, Michelle awoke to find her panties soaked from a very heavy nocturnal emission. Not wanting that fact known by Maria, which was the same as telling Jane directly, she hurried into her bathroom and carefully rinsed the sodden mass free of the thick, viscous fluid. Michelle decided that, if asked, she'd claim she'd had an "accident" during the night. It had the advantage of almost being the truth - she certainly hadn't done that intentionally - but hopefully anyone hearing it would assume she'd gotten urine on them.

"A fine thing when you'd rather folks think you pissed your pants than know the truth, Nash." she said with a touch of humor.

What was worse for the boy/girl, was the dream she'd been having that precipitated the involuntary climax. Aunt Jane had been "correcting" him again, only this time with a real penis - a real penis that had been connected to Aunt Jane. A real penis that had been *part* of Aunt Jane. Throughout the dream, he'd felt again the strain of keeping his jaws open to admit the phallus, and had heard again the ringing taunts of his Aunt. But *this* time, he'd been excited, and the onset of Jane's orgasm had triggered his own.

Michael had still been a virgin on his arrival at Jane's home over a month ago. Young men at all male boarding schools do not get much opportunity to deal with young girls except in very tightly controlled situations. And unlike his peers, Michael did not have real vacations in which he could have dealt with them in anything remotely resembling uncontrolled situations. Oh, he'd learned to masturbate, and he'd had a fairly active relationship with "Merry Hand and her five sisters" since he'd turned thirteen. He also understood the mechanics and the societal expectations of sex. But Aunt Jane with a penis? And in the dream Michelle had enjoyed it? That was scary.

Did that mean Michelle *wanted* to be a girl, or at least, to assume the feminine role in the sex act? Did that mean she wanted to be with another guy? Michael, and here it definitely *was* Michael thinking, did not think he could handle that. Maybe this was one of those times he should call and talk to Eric. He decided to wait until later, when Eric would be home. This call might take a while.

Michelle spent the rest of the day in isolated, melancholy thought, often frowning, looking disturbed. After a couple of attempts to involve her in conversation, Beth had finally given up and had gone off without her. Jane kept an wary eye on her ward for several hours and finally decided she needed to do something.

She caught up with Michelle in the English Country Garden where the girl was sitting on a bench under the arbor, staring at a rose bush. "Do you want me to apologize?" Jane asked.

Michelle started at the unexpected voice and then gazed up at her aunt in surprise. "Whatever for, Aunt Jane?"

"For the way the correction went last night, of course. I realize now that I may have gone too far with that particular soap toy. So, do I owe you an apology?"

She watched as Michelle seemed to consider that, before she shrugged. "Probably not. I wasn't expecting it, but I suspect that the experience will help me clean up my language all the quicker for it."

"Then what is bothering you, girl?" Aunt Jane asked in some exasperation. "We agreed that we would be honest with each other throughout this trial period so that no unexpected or unintended slights would fester to affect your final decision. If that wasn't the problem, what is?"

"It's not that, Aunt Jane." Michelle answered with a deep sigh. "Well, maybe part of it, but not the whole of it."

Jane thought about what Maria had told her earlier, and suddenly put it all together. "Does this have anything to do with the stains that Maria found on your bed sheets this morning, Michelle?" The girl's eyes went wide with dismay and then she turned away, her face flushing with heat. "So, you came in your panties last night after we finished." Jane said with certainty. She got her answer when the girl's complexion took on an even darker shade of red and then tried to leave. Jane caught her and eased her back down. "Do I have it all, now? C'mon, now, give me the whole of it, girl. Don't let this fester."

Still, Michelle could not bring herself to say anything.

"Please."

That was the most shocking word Jane had yet spoken to her, and it opened the floodgates. Slowly, haltingly, Michelle began to speak. She told of the dream, of the hermaphroditic Jane and of Michelle's willing compliance and Michael's orgasm. She spoke of her fears about her sexuality and how this little play might affect it in the future.

Understanding now, Jane nodded, swallowing just a little bit hard herself. The child did have some . . . very interesting dreams. "All right. I am calling a trial period time out. Michael and I need to talk, Michelle. Be in my study in thirty minutes. If Michael wishes to be dressed in male clothes for this, he has my permission to do so without penalty." With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to the house.
 
 
Chapter 18. Interlude - Jane and Michael
 
Unsure what Jane had in mind, Michael took her hint about male clothes, up to a point. He did not really feel like going through struggling back into all his girl clothes again, particularly that instrument from hell, the body shaper. So he merely stripped off his skirt and blouse, pulled on a Nike exercise suit over his lingerie before pulling on white socks and sneakers over his stockings. He barely remembered to remove his wig, and saw he still had cosmetics on when he went to straighten the fuzz that had started to grow back on his skull. For a moment, he considered not cleaning that off, either, but in the end, decided to wash it all off. Besides, it didn't take him all that long to do up Michelle's face from scratch in any case.

Jane was waiting in the study with a pot of tea and some cakes. She was not behind her imposing desk, either. Rather, she had set the tea up at the little conversation grouping. near the fire place. He would not be seated in "the chair" looking at her across her desk of power.

Jane personally poured the tea, and Michael wondered if she'd done that was because he was Michael and not Michelle. She'd always made Michelle pour, and expected her to know exactly how each of her guests took their tea, so it came as a further surprise when, without asking, Jane added his preferred amount of honey and lemon before offering him his cup. Jane knew something so inconsequential about him? He'd have sworn she never paid any attention to him, or rather Michelle, during these little tea ceremonies.

His face must have conveyed that because Jane chuckled softly. "I make you remember how those you pour for take their tea, Michael. Do you think me less genteel in my decorum than what I demand of my girls? Of course I know the proper way to serve tea. I *am*, first and foremost, a *lady*."

She sat back and sipped her own tea. "I have never done this before with one of my boys, Michael. Pulled them out of their feminine finery for a few minutes in order to speak with them without the barriers of the masquerade on their part, and without the persona of the harsh taskmistress on my part to inhibit the free exchange between my student and me."

"So why is this different with me?"

"Because this whole situation is different, Michael - very different, and I don't want to mess it up before we even get started. First of all, I want you to understand that Maria was not intentionally invading your privacy when she found the semen stains on your bedding. Checking the sheets for such things is something we have always done with our little girls. That is the reason we never made you make your own beds."

"Why?" the incredulous tone in Michael's voice made her smile.

"Michael, silk, satins, fine lingerie, all those pampering little feminine rituals are really very sensual experiences. They look nice, and more importantly, they feel nice. My young men are, like you, young *men*. Virile, potent, and excitable. One of the key signs that I am finally starting to reach inside the heads of my students is when the sensuality begins to overwhelm their reticence and repugnance. Young men being what they are, they need relief from such pressures, either by . . . ummm, taking things in hand, or by having wet dreams. In the past, I have always needed to know when that happens so that I could adjust what I am doing. Ergo, Maria made the beds."

"And in my case, she just did it because she always does?"

"Yes, because it has become a habit." Then that wicked grin returned and Michael felt a cold chill run up his spine. "In your case, I already knew Michelle had been reached because Sandy told me about you ejaculating spontaneously at the beauty shop." She became serious again. "But that is not what happened last night, is it? The dream you had? It was just as you described it?" He nodded. "And now, you are worried about your sexual orientation? That your experience in skirts might make you want boys and not girls? Because you dreamed of having me force you to suck a penis and you had an orgasm because of it?" Michael nodded, again, his eyes firmly focused on the floor.

Jane stood and walked over to her window before turning to face Michael again. "Are you a virgin, Michael?"

She had her answer in an instant, but held back, hoping he would speak first. "When would I ever have gotten the opportunity, Jane? Dad is gone. Mom keeps me imprisoned in all boy schools and camps. The closest I have been to more than one girl my own age in the past year was at Caro's, during the make up lesson, and then I was *one* of the girls."

"Not much you could do to plight your troth in that situation, was there?" she said cheerfully. "Michael, I don't think you need to worry. You reacted to a highly charged, highly sexual situation that I forced on you last night. Now, if you'd dreamed about a guy in your mouth, well, even that wouldn't mean anything, but you dreamed about me, a woman, doing it. That I had a penis was probably just a reaction to what I had done to you. If I had stuck a soap carving of a woman's vulva into your mouth, you probably would have dreamed of me in a more realistic form, but just as dominant over you." She considered for a moment if she really wanted to take this any further, and decided it was necessary. She'd promised honesty to him, just as he had to her. "Have you ever heard of bondage and discipline? Sadomasochism?"

Michael surprised her by nodding almost immediately. "At school. One of the guys had a father who sent him bootleg copies of Penthouse and Playboy. The readers letters sections were full of that stuff."

"Liked those magazines, did you? Well, in their milder forms, those variations can be a very exciting way of having sex, or if you prefer, of making love. As long as the participants really care for one another, there is really nothing very wrong with acting out those games, and certainly nothing wrong with having fantasies about them. Instead, if they excite you and your partner, you should try to enjoy them as you would any other mutually pleasurable games. If it doesn't hurt anyone, why not?"

She saw him mulling that over and decided to continue. "Michael, last night, I probably went too far. My original goal, as you surmised, was to make the correction so embarrassing that you'd work all the harder to avoid a recurrence. Unfortunately, my darker nature got the better of me and I said and did some things that were over the line. For that, I am sorry."

"Thank you, Jane, for that. I am okay with that. The dream did bother me, and I spent a great deal of time today trying to come to grips with that dream and what it meant. What it implied about me. I am still not sure I do understand all of that, but one thing I am surer of today than ever before. Even in skirts, I still like girls. I still *want* girls."

"Well, if you spend four years as Michelle, you may find that many little feminine touches are creeping into your mind set. I expect that you will continue to like and want girls, but you can expect to be in the company of men as a very attractive female on a fairly regular basis, and they will respond to you as they would any pretty girl. Don't be surprised if you start responding back. It is neither wrong nor evil, okay?"

Michael considered that and then shrugged. "I am going to have to do a lot more thinking about that, Jane. At this point, I cannot even imagine being physically attracted to another man."

Jane smiled, a strangely gentle smile that Michael had never seen before. "I know, but then, many of the things you will face and do are going to require and impose major changes in your thinking. Just keep your mind open and keep on thinking." That earned her a smile and nod. Jane wanted to cheer, but contented herself with a little smile of her own. "Now, anymore questions?"

"Just a couple. You did say that the soapy vulva thing would have been more realistic? I mean, you . . . ummmm. . . aren't like Michelle? You, yourself, I mean." and this was Michelle asking, and in such an sweetly curious voice that Jane was momentarily speechless.

Then she burst out laughing. "You . . . you . . ." words momentarily failed her. "That was the bitchiest, cattiest thing I have heard in weeks." Then she fought to regain control. "Well done! And if you *must* know," she said in measured, aristocratic tones, "The only way a penis is ever inside *my* panties is when one is attached to a male I *choose* to invite into them. Does that answer your impertinent question, Miss Nosy-britches?"

"Yes, Aunt Jane." was the prim response. "Thank you *very* much. I am sure I won't have *that* bad dream again."
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 22 July - Day 6

Dear Diary

The time-out thing worked well. It helped to meet with Jane as near equals. She even apologized to me for going to far last night. Oddly, after the dream last night and the talk with Jane today, it doesn't seem all that bad. Actually, thinking about it causes certain male parts of my anatomy stand up and be noticed. A very uncomfortable experience in this too-small all-in-one body shaper. Erect cocks are not meant to be bent that way.

Still, I am glad Aunt Jane saw the problem and cared enough to try to fix it. Almost makes me believe she meant what she said about really wanting to help. And it gives me a whole new perspective on what she calls her "dark side". Aunt Jane is a very attractive lady, in a mature sort of way. Kind of like that woman, Joan something or other who was a star on that old late night soap opera. What was it called? Destiny? Dynasty? Can't remember. The dorm senior would turn off the TV whenever we tried to watch it back in seventh grade.

What was it she said? As long as it feels good and doesn't hurt anyone, eh? Well, I suspect that Aunt Jane is going to play a role in the dreams of the part of me that remains Michael for quite a while to come.

On another issue, she understood my need for some exercise, and will look into it. Her concern is that I not build up too much muscle mass, so that I can continue to look slim, elegant and feminine. We are not trying for Cory Everson here. I hope we can do something. She says she has a friend who is a dietitian and a fitness instructor who might be able to help and who knows about Aunt Jane's . . .hobby.

I am tired, and I am going to go to bed. Who knows? I might dream again. Just in case, tonight I won't wear the bottoms of my sleep set. The stains from this morning don't seem to want to come out of the gusset of the ones I tried to clean.

Oh well.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 19. Stripped Down
 
Not much happened for the next few days. Michelle and Beth spent a great deal of time together with Beth helping impart what she'd learned over her time with Jane to her friend. Of course, she'd tried to do that before, but the key difference was that this time, Michelle had become a willing student.

Neither Jane nor Michelle brought up their 'time out' discussions. Perhaps just as well, Michelle mused, since parts of that had been as embarrassing as anything Jane had done to her in their earlier dealings. Still, she *really* wanted to burn off this excess energy. Walking back and forth, up and down the long front hall, wearing progressively higher heeled shoes (she was up to two and half inches), while balancing Conan-Doyle on her head was NOT enough exercise.

It still came as something of a surprise when, at dinner two weeks after Michelle's commitment to the trial period, Jane said that they had an appointment the next day. "She is a certified nutritionist and personal trainer, Michelle. Nora, that is, Nurse Bedford, found her for me. This lady works with gender dysphoric men who are considering sex reassignment surgery . . you know what that is?" she asked.

"Is that what they do to guys who want to become women, Aunt Jane?" Michelle had asked wide eyed with anxiety.

"Close enough for our purposes, Michelle. Anyway, this woman helps them with diet and exercise programs designed to help them sculpt their figures and still keep healthy. Evidently many such people do really stupid things, like starve themselves to fit into their idealized concept of womanhood. The result is that they become very ill, lose bone mass, and sometimes need medical care."

"What will she do to . . .I mean . .for me, Aunt Jane?" was the somewhat quavering question.

"She will look you over, Michelle, and come up with an initial program of diet and exercise for you. She will also evaluate you physically. Whatever we do in this, Michelle - and I am telling you this as Michael, too - I *insist* that we not damage your health in the process. If we can't make you over into the drop-dead gorgeous creature that you wish to present to your Mother in lieu of her son, well, that is something you need to know so that you can make an informed decision at the end of our trial period."

Michelle considered that and finally nodded. "What will we tell her? About me, I mean?"

"Excellent question, Michelle." Jane said approvingly. "Keep thinking like that, dear. I think we will play this by ear for now. I think she will probably believe without being told, that you are another man thinking about SRS. If she doesn't ask, we won't tell. If she does ask, I will try and lead her to the conclusion that you wish to live as femininely as possible, but won't be making any other permanent changes in the near future. Later, when we know more about her, perhaps we will bring her in on the scheme. All right?" she asked, watching her charge very closely and smiled inwardly as Michelle finally sighed, and nodded agreement.
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 31 July - Day 15

Dear Diary

Well, I met Sonja Bjornson today. Only one word adequately describes the impact of this woman on the unsuspecting.

Wow.

This is one very big lady. Not unattractive, but BIG. . . and TALL! Everywhere. VERY big. Overwhelming, even. I am not used to looking up at ladies, even one as lovely as this Viking warrior princess. Not that much, anyway. She was wearing heels, which my now-trained eyes put at about three inches tall, but then, my own heels were that high, too. She still topped my own relatively-short-for-a-guy-5 feet 5 inches by a good five or six inches.

And every part of her is just as big. Not fat, god no - she is shapely and has a very nice smile to go with long, almost white-blond hair and stunningly blue eyes. Still, I bet she is pushing two hundred pounds and is not a tenth of a percent over the minimum recommended percent body fat for women.

She was very nice and very professional. The first part of the consultation involved me having to strip.

Naked.

In front of Brunhilda, queen of the Valkyries.

I resisted - she insisted. I still resisted - she still insisted and finally, Jane ordered it.

I sort of embarrassed myself during the examination because I had one of what Jane refers to as an "uncontrollable male physiological response". Sonja's only comment to that was to say to Jane, "Well, you weren't lying when you said she was not on hormones, were you?" That made us all laugh and that helped ease the tension a bit, if not my physiological response.

She proceeded to measure me all over, in places I have never been measured before. She took callipers and pinched skin on my arms, belly, thighs, calves, buttocks and my back. She asked me what type of physical activity I was used to and I told her long distance running, tennis and swimming. She asked when I had gone through puberty and I told her almost six years ago.

Her only response to that was that I wouldn't need to worry about a growth spurt so long after the onset of puberty.

Great!

Then she let me dress before she began the interview phase. She asked what types of things I ate and what I liked to eat. She approved, mostly, of the diet that Jane had me on, but was appalled by my preference for that fine French cuisine, burgers de junk a la McDonald's. Whereupon, I was told, quite firmly, that there were sacrifices that must be made to be beautiful. Jane was listening, too, dammit.

Anyway, Maria is now clucking over the new diet plan, and I have been given the go ahead for an exercise program that will not prevent me from accomplishing my goal. It involves some swimming (breast stroke preferred so as to not build up the pectorals) power walking to build up the pelvis, a very special kind of crunch that will tighten the tummy and help give me a figure, and dance - both aerobic for cardiovascular fitness and modern dance - for flexibility and grace.

She also recommended that. . "Since she is still. . . excitable around other women, Ms. Thompson, you might want to invest in a gaff for her?"

Jane laughed aloud at that, and it was NOT one of her nice laughs either. I tried to get her to tell me what a gaff was all the way home, but she'd just start laughing again before telling me that I'd find out soon enough. That, and the fact it has something to do with my "male physiological reaction" does NOT make me happy.

Tomorrow, we go shopping for exercise clothes and bathing suits. Since I cannot wear the body shaper in a bikini, I suspect that means one-piece suits. That is fine with me. One of those women's racing suits that goes up to the throat is even more better!

Michelle Nash

~------------~

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 1 August - Day 16

Dear Diary

I know what a gaff is now - the jockstrap from hell, only its purpose is not to protect me from injury as to protect me from discovery. It is designed, as Jane so succinctly put it, is "To give you a nice smooth feminine profile, dear. After all, you can't very well exercise in petticoats."

My immediate response to *that* was "Thank God!", which brought out Jane's damned green book. However, now that she and Maria (it took BOTH of them) have shoe-horned me into this 'ahem' unique item of apparel, I'm not quite so sure if I want to thank ANYONE.

Basically, it is a belt affair, that forces my dick and balls between my legs and then pulls them up, hard. My balls have retreated into the cavity from whence they came, and that HURT when it happened. Jane assures me they will come back down where they belong. Eventually.

There is no way I am going to get hard wearing this thing.

Gotta run. Time to go shopping. Oh Joy.

Right.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 20. Pain is Good, Coach
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 1 August - Day 16

Dear Diary

I am back from shopping, and if there is any part of this masquerade that is going to send me screaming into the night, it is too many more of these "little shopping trips" of Jane's.

We went to Ms. Franson's place for the swimsuits and we bought two one piece suits, both with relatively high necklines so that I can wear the breast inserts I use with regular clothes (good thing they are plastic and therefore water proof). I am almost embarrassed to say that even the A-cup bikini tops bagged on me - so much for bikinis. Jane has that martial look in her eyes, however, so I don't think the bikini has faded into the sunset just yet.

That was the easy part. Work out clothes are as much a pain in the rear as regular clothes. I cannot believe how many different outfits Jane insisted were absolutely necessary. I even asked her to come into the dressing room with me and swear to me that this was not another of her evil little games and she gave me her word that every single item was required.

I now have six or seven different outfits for aerobics (they remind me of my old wrestling singlet from junior high school, only they are even tighter and much more brightly colored)as well as four or five running outfits - all with matching hair ribbons. I swear there are even different types of shoes for different types of aerobics. Finding room for all this stuff is going to be difficult. I guess some of Michael's stuff goes back into the attic. Sigh.

It sure was easier for Michael, though . . . pull on a pair of shorts, the oldest t-shirt he could find, a ratty old pair of running shoes and then hit the gym. Just getting ready for my first aerobics class tomorrow is probably going to take at least three quarters of an hour. Jane said I even need to put on make up so I will look my best with all the other women. Which reminds me, we also bought some special cosmetics designed for working out. It is not supposed to run when I break into a good sweat. . oops, I mean when I begin to gently glow.

What was it Linus used to say in Peanuts? Oh yeah.

AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!

Michelle Nash

~------------~

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 1 August - Day 16

Dear Diary

Small postscript here. I just reread the previous entry and I realized that I talked about Michael in the second person throughout. Does that mean I am getting closer to thinking as Michelle and in the feminine tense? I wonder what that will mean for me in October if I decide that I can't or don't want to proceed with the plan? Will I have to work just as hard to be Michael again? I certainly HOPE not, but neither am I willing to bet the ranch that I won't.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 21. Exercise Aftermath
 
Jane entered her home by way of the garden door at the side of the house. She'd been meditating in her favorite spot of the garden, beneath the grape arbor, overlooking the small pond garden. It was about time for Michelle to return from her first aerobics class, and Jane wanted to be there in case anything had gone wrong. She'd really wanted to go along but both Sonja and Michelle had rejected that idea. A non- participant watching over one particular student simply drew too much attention. And, unlike Michelle, Jane had *no* interest in participating in such an exercise in masochism as a step aerobics class.

The first thing she heard was laughter, then an outraged voice raised in furious, if somewhat breathless denial. She located the sound as coming from the front parlor and slipped quietly to the room door.

"Dammit Beth!" came the out-of-breath voice. "It is not funny!"

The answering chuckle Jane heard was much more "David" than "Beth". Actually that was a good sign. David was sensitive enough to the situation and to its dangers that he would not be reacting this way if Michelle's problem was truly serious. In that case, she thought, I'll just listen in for a bit. She pulled out her little green book, carefully documented the "Dammit", and then settled down for a little productive eavesdropping.

"That woman Sonja is a sadist, I tell you. She damn near killed me in the first half hour and that was only the warmup. I thought I was in shape, but I guess all of this time spent being dainty for Jane must have done me in."

Another peal of laughter. "And what did you call it? Jiggling? Tell me, Michelle, did you get to enjoy watching the other women jiggle?"

A different laugh answered that. Jane was pleased to note that Michelle had still managed to laugh in her feminine voice. She'd forgive the "damn near" as a reward. "Heck, Beth, after the first fifteen minutes, it was all I could do to keep up without tripping over my own feet."

"Damn, I wish I could have seen that." Beth laughed heartily.

"Well, sweetie," and Jane heard that sly, catty voice that Michelle had picked up somewhere and held her breath. "Jane did buy me two gaffs, and I do have so many outfits, I am *sure* that at least one of them could fit you. I would be more than happy to take you with me tomorrow, then you could see it all, first hand. Besides, darling, it would do you good - a girl does need to keep her figure."

"Bite me, Michelle." was Beth's sharp retort.

"No need to be crude, darling. But in that case, I'll just eat your desert tonight, so you won't be tempted."

Deciding enough was enough, Jane walked into the room. Michelle was sprawled over the fainting couch looking very much like she *had* fainted. The pastel patterned workout suit was dark with perspiration, and the ponytail she had worked her wig into was looking very frazzled.

"Aunt Jane!" she yelped as she jumped into a more lady like position.

"Michelle, Beth." she calmly acknowledged the pair. "And what, pray tell, was the cause of all that unseemly laughter?"

Beth swallowed, and looked sheepishly at Michelle who just shrugged. "Beth was just teasing me a little about the aerobics class, Aunt Jane."

"Did it go well?"

"Not as well as I had hoped; not as badly as it could have gone. You did not tell me that Sonja herself taught that class. She is an animal!"

"I believe I heard you use the word 'sadist' earlier." Michelle flushed bright red at being caught. "Too tough for you, Michelle?" she challenged deliberately.

She fought a grin as the girl/boy's spine snapped straight, her shoulders went back and her stomach sucked in. "No, Aunt Jane, she's not. Besides, if she leads the class, she knows I am in it and I expect she will tell me when an exercise is not appropriate for me."

"I am glad you realize that, Michelle. In fact, as I understand it from Sonja, there are at least four more of her special students in that class. She told me about that one because she tailors it for men who are working at maintaining feminine figures through exercise."

Michelle thought about that bit of news, and recalled one particular woman at the class - a tall, slender redhead - who kept looking over at her throughout the class. At the time, Michelle had thought it was just because she was new to the class, but now. . . Well, if that redhead was a male, he was very, very good at the role. Maybe Michelle should make a point of watching her a bit more closely next time. She must might learn something useful.

"Beth?" Jane's voice broke into Michelle's revery. "Please go out and weed the flower beds around the grape arbor before dinner."

"All right, Jane. See you at dinner, Michelle. If you aren't too stiff to make it back down the stairs."

Michelle threw a pillow at Beth's retreating back, for which she earned a scowl from Jane. "Michelle, I was listening in on your conversation with Beth before I entered the room." Michelle's face fell as she recalled a few curses that would now have to go into her diary. Jane smiled her dangerous smile that still chilled Michelle's blood. "Calm down." she ordered. "For the most part, you did quite well. David broke character, but you did not. Yes, I heard the "Dammit's", but you kept your feminine tones throughout. Now, why do you think I am bringing this up?"

Michelle thought about it for a long moment and then sighed. "Because there is never going to be a time when I am not on stage?"

Nodding her approval, Jane continued. "As long as you are dressed, you need to stay in role. You never know who is going to be coming around the corner, or who will be listening just outside of your field of vision. If you are going to pull this off, you must *be* Michelle whenever you are *dressed* as Michelle. A slip up like Beth just made, in the wrong place or at the wrong time, and it is all over. When you were here for my regular program, I very carefully selected where you were seen and who was in a position to see you if your cover was broken."

Jane paused to let that sink in. "But I can no longer do that for you, Michelle, because you are going to have to live a normal life, at least normal for a young woman, and go places that are not preselected for your safety in the event you slip up. You will have to do all that, my dear, and the only way you can hope to pull it off without being discovered is not to let Michael slip past Michelle's guard. You cannot let down, even here at home because if you get sloppy here, with Beth for instance, you might forget and get sloppy at the mall in response to the same type of stimuli from Beth. Do you understand?"

She watched as the girl mentally chewed on that before nodding slowly. "Yes, Aunt Jane, I do understand. It is going to be very difficult, though. I am just beginning to understand how difficult."

"Still game, kid?" Jane asked cockily.

"Yes, Aunt Jane. I am still game." Michelle answered demurely. "And thank you for this lesson. I had not considered things quite that way."

Slowly, painfully the girl rose to her feet to leave. Her obvious discomfort made Jane wince in empathy for her. "Please excuse me, Aunt Jane. I am going to go soak in a hot tub so that I don't get any stiffer. No way am I going to let Beth have the last laugh on this."

Jane managed to hold her own laughter until she heard Michelle's bedroom door close behind her.
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 5 August - Day 20

Dear Diary

Jane has asked me if I would consider working with her circle of confederates on this project. As Jane pointed out, Caro, Sandy and Mrs. Franson are really the experts in their part of the game, and Jane has always relied on them for the complex stuff. Maria is pretty good at the day to day makeup and dress up, but when Jane wants something special, like when she wants a boy to pass in close quarters, she gets out the big guns.

She went so far as to hint, and not very darned subtly, that since she is not going to be taking on any of her "special students" while she is supervising me, the least I could do was let her "dear friends in on the fun."

Yeah, Right! Like being nice to that pack of . . . .I don't even want to think of a word for them because it might slip out. I am just a too close to the magic 100 curses again. Anyway, to state it elegantly and with proper feminine restraint, I do not believe that the pleasure of those upstanding members of Jane's acquaintance stands very highly on my list of personal priorities.

On the other hand, I guess I will probably need the big guns to help pull this off. Which means I am eventually going to agree to this proposal of Jane's, but I can't say I much like the idea.

I wonder how they will really feel about working with me, now that I think about it. Since the start of the trial period, my relations with them all have been a bit strained. Mrs. Franson was very reserved with me the two times I have been in her store. As for Caro and Sandy, I just don't know. Sandy was just so evil to me before and she was still pretty rough the other day when I went in for my first voluntary treatment. Caro was better, but she was very wary around me, like she was afraid something was going to go badly wrong any second.

That is probably it. They are afraid because of the suicide attempt. They don't want to be around if I lose it again. Heck, they might even be feeling somewhat responsible and guilty about it. Plus, they have to be worrying for themselves about the potential repercussions for them and their shops if word got out about: A. what they were doing and B. that one of the boys attempted to kill himself after one of their sessions.

Its odd that I am writing about that . . .event now. Odder still, it *feels* like I am writing about someone else or writing ancient history. I can't even imagine doing what I most assuredly tried to do. I can't seem to remember what I was feeling or what I was thinking then, either. All I can see in my minds eye is like something out of a dream - out of focus and indistinct.

I am seeing a therapist in Providence now, twice a week. Eric referred me to her. She, like Sonja, works with a lot of gender dysphoric people. I don't think that is what I am. I am not confused about who and what I am. I am a male who is working to perfect a disguise as a female to achieve a distinct and specific purpose.

Still, Dr. Spinelli understands the conflicts I feel, and she seems to be able to get to the heart of things that bother me a whole lot quicker than I can on my own. She hasn't been at all judgmental about my reasons for doing this, either. She sure does ask a lot of questions, though. Problem is, I don't much care for a lot of the answers. Well, if what I do with my Mother is wrong and a mistake, I am just going to have to learn to live with it.

Well, I guess I will go tell Jane to bring on the Committee on the Feminine Arts. Of course, if Sandy gets too nasty, we can always get into a cat fight now that I am not quite so terrified of Jane. Heck, if we get into a hair pulling contest, I will win that one hands down. Mine's still too short to pull and the wig will just come off in her hands.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 22. The Committee
 
"More tea, Carolyn, or perhaps another cake?" Michelle asked as she reached for the elegant Limoges tea pot on the tray in front of her. She was in the front parlor of Jane's house, seated in an antique, straight backed chair. She was under the microscope, knew it, and strangely enough, was beginning to enjoy it.

"No, thank you, Michelle. I am fine for now." said Carolyn. She, along with Sandy, Jane and Brenda Franson were seated across from Michelle on the large sofa and love seat. Michelle had spent the last thirty minutes acting as hostess for this small tea party, as Jane explained the purpose of the meeting and what she proposed for them to do for her ward.

Brenda set down her cup and looked first at Jane, and then at Michelle. "Well, that is a remarkable story, Jane. As to what you want us to do, well, I am not sure about that. I have some concerns about this undertaking and I think I need to talk to you privately about those."

Before Jane could respond, Michelle interposed herself into the conversation. "You are worried, Ms. Franson, about me . . .about the fact that I tried to kill myself." she said flatly. It was not really a question, but Michelle got her answer when the woman went white and looked away. "It is something I am trying to face myself. In all honesty, I don't know what to tell you, except that I am getting professional help in that arena, and that my therapist does not think I am at risk. If you like, I will call her and tell her to discuss my case with you openly, the same as she does with Aunt Jane."

Brenda stared at the person her mind told her was a seventeen year old boy, but whom every sense told her was a beautiful, elegantly turned out and poised young lady. Finally, she spoke. "If you don't mind, Michelle, I would still like to talk to your Aunt, but I will say that your offer has relieved me somewhat."

Michelle nodded, smiling her understanding.

"Well, I for one, don't see the big deal, Jane. Aside from playing such a dirty trick on another woman, getting this one to pass that way shouldn't be any trouble at all as long as she doesn't hit a growth spurt. I told you I thought she was the prettiest, most passable sissy you ever brought in to the shop."

"*Not* a sissy, Sandra." was Jane's quelling response. "We are going far beyond the simple disguises that were enough when the goal was to tease and torment an overblown adolescent male ego. Michelle is going to become a female impersonator who can pass in any company, any situation."

A lascivious smile crossed Sandy's lips and she slanted a thoroughly mean look at Michelle. "*Any* situation, Jane? I know some guys who. ."

"Sandra!" Jane snapped. "If you cannot or will not help with this then you may leave. We are here to help. I asked you here because you are the best at what you do, and because we might have gone too far and contributed to what Michelle went through that night. Do you want to help or not?"

Sandy looked disappointed at the no-nonsense tone of Jane's rebuff, but finally agreed. "Although I cannot promise not to forget and slip in a little jab every now and then. I'm gonna know who you are under all the satin and lace, and my teasing is just something I've always done." She sighed.

Michelle thought about that and nodded. "I can handle that, Sandy."

Jane spoke up. "As long as they *are* only slip ups and only every now and then, Sandra. Too many, too often and we will have to reconsider the project. Now, can Michelle count on you?"

"All right, count me in. Just smack me along side my head if I get out line, Chellie."

Eyebrows lifting in surprise at the nickname, Michelle grinned. "Why I would absolutely *love* to, Sandy." and then her voice slipped in the sly tones she had learned by mimicking Jane at her sweetest and most insincere. "Almost makes me wish you do slip up every now and then."

All of the women gawked at the femininely garbed young man. Caro almost choked on a swallow of hot tea. Sandy, however, burst out laughing. "Well, I guess that shows me, girl. I think I will be even more careful around you now than I would have after Jane's threats."

"Oh, don't bother to go to any trouble on my account, Sandy." Michelle responded sweetly.

"Well." Caro interjected, trying to regain her composure. "I am in, too. And I have a suggestion. I think Michelle should become a regular at my Wednesday classes for the local girls on grooming and cosmetics." Michelle's frown as she recalled her last experience with that little gathering. Regardless of the fact that she herself had been thinking this might be a good idea, returning to a situation that had been so. . . frightening was more than a bit daunting. Still, she settled herself to listen with an open mind and said nothing. She just kept her full attention focused on Carolyn.

"Well, I think it would have several positive effects. First of all, although you have learned that last lesson very well, that particular style is not always appropriate. You need to know how to tone it down for looking professionally competent, or how to lay it on without looking cheap when you are going out on a date or to a party."

Now it was Michelle's turn to gawk. "Date?" her voice rose an octave. "Party? Who said anything about dating and parties?!?"

"Males are a very big part of any near-adult female's life, Michelle. If you avoid them, that will be noticed. You won't be cloistered in Jane's house any more; taken out only on specific excursions that are carefully planned to help you remain undetected as a cross dressed male. You will, as I understand it, be learning to be a lady, a woman. That means functioning on your own, among other people who are not in on the game. And people *will* notice you. As Sandy tried to say, you make a very attractive girl and I suspect you will be beautiful before we are done. If you don't seem to do the things that girls your age do, it will start gossip. The kindest of which would be that you are repressed and frigid. They might even decide that you and Jane have a same sex relationship and that could make life very difficult, particularly if someone calls in social services since you are still a minor."

Jane nodded. "Girls do tend to make friends with other girls, and girls date boys, Michelle. Men are something you need to learn to deal with if you are going to present yourself to your Mother. When David leaves, we can have him come back as himself by times to give you an "older man" boyfriend so that you don't have to get *too* intimate with the boys you date. You can always claim you are in a committed relationship.

Caro nodded. "That works. One thing we need to deal with is why our young miss is not in school when we get into the fall."

"I have been thinking about that, Carolyn." Michelle said quietly. "I have an idea that should explain both that as well as why I wear wigs, in case I am ever seen without one until my hair grows back. Suppose I was ill before I came here. I don't know, some type of parasite that required a treatment like the chemotherapy they use for cancer. Right now, I am on a carefully managed program of diet and exercise to help slowly get my stamina back, but it looks like I will return to school after Christmas. That way, it can be Michelle leaving for boarding school so Michael can come back, or Michelle going to school here."

"That will work." Jane said, a touch of admiration in her voice. "And I can make the cover story even better. I know a couple of doctors and someone in social services who will help us with such documentation. I have had to do something like this in the past to keep my girls out of the truant officer's clutches. And since I am a certified teacher, we can home school you during the remainder of your "recovery"."

Everyone seemed pleased with that solution, although Michelle remained a little dubious about the dating-boys thing. Still, she had to agree with Caro's and Jane's rationale, as much as she would have liked to be able to punch holes in their arguments.

Defeated, Michelle shrugged and forced a smile on to her face. "Guess I will see you Wednesday afternoon, Caro."
 
 
Chapter 23. Making Up with Caro and Sandy
 
Michelle hesitated outside the door to Marisha Chalet. The odors of shampoo, hair coloring and hair dressing assailed her nostrils. It was not a pleasant smell and it brought back even less pleasant memories.

Michael really wondered if he really wanted to try to pass in the company of a gaggle of real girls. Michelle cursed softly under her breath. This was the first time in weeks that she had slipped up, even in her mind, and thought of herself as Michael, or in the masculine tense. It probably had a lot to do with knowing that all the girls in there have been girls since birth, while Michelle had not. Unconsciously, she was comparing herself to them and finding herself lacking in some way - hence the backslide in self imaging. He'd. . . .dammit, *she'd* have to watch that in the future - particularly here.

And she had decided it *was* important to come here, although her reasons were not precisely those given by Jane and Caro. Michelle needed to observe girls her own age so that she could learn to act more them. On careful reflection, she'd come to the conclusion that her Michelle persona might be too mature for her age, given that Jane was her principal feminine role model. That was certainly all right for tea parties and formal events, but not for being out and about in less structured situations.

A gentle hand came down on Michelle's shoulder making her jump away, ready to scream. "Easy, Michelle." came the quiet voice of Carolyn. "I saw you standing outside as I was returning from my lunch." She guided the girl away from the door and walked her down the street a few blocks. "Having second thoughts?" she asked kindly.

"Try third, fourth and fifth, Carolyn." Michelle answered with a self deprecating laugh. "I did not think it would be so hard, but I keep thinking that if anyone is going to see through my masquerade, it is likely to be another girl."

"That's probably true, but I think I can help there. Last time I put you in the spotlight. Of course, before I did that to you, I made very sure you were looking very feminine *and* feeling very submissive. You were so terrified and circumspect that was never any real threat of exposure. I won't be putting in the spotlight today."

"Thank god!"

Carolyn laughed. "I will have to tell Jane about that little outburst for your green book, darling. Now, what we'll do is let you just be in the class, around the edges. You won't have their attention focused on you. You'll be able to get used to them and they will get used to thinking of you as a girl. Once they've accepted that mental image of you, you will be able to take a more active role . . . . . again." she added with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

Shaking her head, Michelle refused to rise to the bait. "Sounds like a plan, Caro." she answered with a relieved sigh.

"Ready, now?" the kindness was back in Caro's voice and that was what decided Michelle as much or more than her other arguments. She nodded, her eyes closed, making Carolyn chuckle. "Okay, c'mon. They really are a good bunch."

Michelle fervently hoped so as she let the older woman lead her into the shop.
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 19 - Day 34

Dear Diary

Well, I have survived my first *voluntary* class on feminine grooming at the Chalet. It was . . . okay. I guess. Actually, what it was . . . was damned uncomfortable. For a variety of reasons.

The first is the most obvious. Regardless of Caro's help and comments to the contrary, I was still certain that I'd be unmasked at some point during the afternoon. That does not tend to make one feel very serene.

The second reason is that Caro was not quite square with me when she talked me into the shop. You see, while she did in fact let me sit in the background during the demonstration phase, she neglected to tell me that she had added a practice session. So I got to make up another girl after she made me up. Which means that I spent the better part of an hour in very close quarters with Anna, a very striking girl of Italian descent. And the lovely Anna was looking at me, practically through a microscope, trying to find the slightest of imperfections. I suspect that since she was concentrating so closely at my face, she did not notice the *key* imperfection.

Which is the third reason. These are all very pretty girls, and the part of Michelle that is definitely Michael wants to date (among other less gentlemanly behaviors) them.

sigh. . .I guess this means wearing a gaff to Wednesday make up class. Ouch.

Still, on the bright side, once we got to the show-and-tell portion of Caro's session, Anna and Michelle and the rest of the group had all become friends. We got to laugh with each other as Caro pointed out our little failures and helped us fix them. The other girls loosened up when they saw Anna take to me. I think that, up until then, they thought I was more than a bit snooty because of the way I did not chat or stick around after that first time when Caro used me for a demonstration dummy.

Actually, I did quite well on Anna. Caro only pointed out a couple of minor things that needed to be fixed. I don't think that it will be quite that easy to put on myself, however. But I will practice and I will master this, too.

I wonder, though, if that was the truth or if Carolyn had another motivation.

You are sounding suspicious and paranoid, again, Ms. Nash.

Yup. I am.

Michelle Nash

~------------~

"You're kidding me, Carolyn. Tell me you did not really do that." Jane said into the phone, a gleeful smile on her face.

"I most assuredly did, Jane. There was absolutely no way she was going to be read in this group, so I decided to help her get past this shyness around other girls. Thought the poor dear was going to jump out of her panties or make a mad dash to the door when I told them to split up into twosomes and practice this style on each other."

"I don't doubt it for a minute. How did you keep Michelle from bolting?"

A smug chuckle came across the line. "Paired her off with the prettiest girl in the class. Michelle was quite enamored of her, too. I think she got uncomfortably excited by having Anna so close and fussing over her."

"Any ramifications? Did she give you hell afterwards?"

"No, not really. I think she was still too smitten by Anna to be very angry or upset with me. And she did hang around the shop for a few minutes after everyone else had left. Personally, I think she was dealing with some unsightly swelling and had to wait for it to go down."

"Poor Michelle." Jane chuckled. "So, besides your little victory over her shy reticence, how did Michelle do in the class?"

"Very well. Surprisingly well, in fact. She has a knack for being able to physically reproduce precisely almost any technique once she has seen it done, so she got the basics down quickly. She also has an unusually good eye for color and made some substitutions more suitable to Anna's skin tones than the ones I had used on the girl I demonstrated on. And she did not even ask if she should."

"A natural, eh?"

"Well, I don't think we will have to show her how to do anything more than once. Jane, I have to run. See you later, okay?"

"Bye, Carolyn, and thanks."

~--------------~

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 21 - Day 36

Dear Diary

I just get my pulse rate back to normal after Caro's little stunt of putting me nose to nose with the lovely Anna, and now this.

Anna just called. Seems she is having a party tomorrow night at her parents house, and she wanted to know if I could come on such short notice. Sort of a last fling before school reopens. She even tried to entice me by promising that some of the best looking guys in the area would be attending.

Joy, oh Joy.

I didn't think I could say no, but I did dutifully ask Aunt Jane hoping for assistance from that corner. Of course, she let me down and told me to have a "wonderful time".

Joy, oh Joy, again.

Well, fortunately, Anna's parents will be home, which means that things should not get out of hand. Ought to be a safe first introduction.

Oh, and this reminded Jane that I was supposed to be getting dance lessons. So next week, I am enrolled at a dance studio downtown to learn ballroom style dancing. Cripes, I don't know how to dance like a guy leading the girl, and now I am supposed to learn to dance the female part.

This has not been one of my better days. The one bright side is that I don't need to go shopping. I already have a very nice party dress that will work just fine.

I wish I had thought to ask if Beth could come, but it is too late now. Besides, she probably would not want to go anymore than I do, and Jane would side with her on this. Jane has really eased up on Beth since the incident and the acceptance letter. I am not looking forward to being here alone with Jane, either.

Darn.

Michelle Nash

~------------~

Jane stood in the front foyer, all but tapping her toe in impatience. Where *was* the girl, she fumed silently. They were going to be late getting her to this party.

And Jane was determined that Michelle was going to attend. She needed interaction with people her own age. More than that, she needed to learn how to deal with young men her own age if they had any prayer of achieving their aims. It would not be a much of a problem except for one small point. As Sandy had said, Michelle was the prettiest student she had ever had. Although she might wish to deny it, the girl was, quite literally, a head turner, and she was going to attract boys. This party, particularly since it was going to be tightly chaperoned (Jane had called to check), was a relatively safe first step.

Another check at her watch and Jane was striding up the stairs. She came to Michelle's room and was about to knock when she noticed the door was open. Upon entering, she saw no sign of her ward, other than the fact that the light summer weight party dress was still hanging on the door of the armoire. A quick check of the hallway revealed a light peaking out from under the bathroom door. As Jane approached the door, she heard a gagging, retching noise coming from the bathroom.

Jane had learned early in her career of reforming young men that locks on the doors of her students' rooms and bathrooms were a nuisance. Particularly when one of the little dears would lock themselves inside and refuse to come out after or before one of Jane's little scenarios. She could always get in, of course, but that often required tools and time. The easiest solution had been to reverse the doorknobs, so that the rooms locked from the outside, but not from the inside. This had the additional benefit of keeping a recalcitrant sissy where Jane put him until Jane was ready to deal with him.

Although Jane had given Michelle back the privacy of her own room, she had neglected to do the same with the bathroom she shared with Beth. Another bout of retching noises had Jane opening the door and rushing in. There was Michelle, outfitted in her party lingerie, kneeling in front of the toilet trying to vomit. "Trying" being the operative word because it was patently obvious her stomach was empty and she was suffering from a bad case of dry heaves. The spasms passed and Michelle's body relaxed. She sat back on her heels and then realized she was not alone. "Oh, no!" she moaned. "On top of everything else, I have to deal with knowing you saw me like this."

Without responding, Jane filled a glass with water and handed it to her. Michelle started to rise, but Jane stopped her. "Stay there a minute. Rinse your mouth and then sip the water slowly. Even if it doesn't stay down, it will give your poor stomach something to send up."

Cautiously, Michelle did as Jane had bid and tried to rinse the foul taste out of her mouth. It took almost half the glass before she was willing to try a tentative sip. "Thank you, Aunt Jane." she said after that first sip had made it all the way to her stomach without bouncing.

Jane settled on the edge of the bathtub and reached out a hand to gently stroke her ward's hair. The girl had not even gotten her wig on yet, Jane mused. It must be worse than I thought. Michelle sighed and leaned into the soothing caress.

"Nerves, dear?" Jane asked finally. "Butterflies in your tummy?"

"More like B2 Stealth Bombers, Aunt Jane, only they're not being very stealthy."

Grinning at that, Jane tousled the soft fuzz on Michelle's head. "Well, if you can make a joke, you are feeling a bit better. Time for another little time out, Michelle. Meet me in your room as soon as you collect yourself."

Her ward arrived moments after Jane had seated herself on the bedroom chair. She motioned her over to the bed. "All right, Michael." Jane began. "Is it the party itself, the danger of discovery, or the danger that you might not be discovered and have to deal with horny teenaged males as a lovely teenaged female that has you trying to heave your intestines into my toilet bowl?"

"All three, Aunt Jane, but mostly the third. This is very different than anything I have done since I came here. There won't be anyone there to help me. I will be alone at that party. Heck, even at the makeup class the other day, Caro was there to make sure I didn't foul up too badly. As for the last two reasons, well, those are pretty obvious. I just don't know what I'd do if some guy got fresh with me. My inclinations are to knock his head off, but that would be out of character for Michelle."

As she had thought, Jane mused, but it was obviously much worse than she had thought it would be. Maybe it was too much, too quickly. How long had Michael actually been giving his best effort towards being Michelle. . . Just over a month, actually. Of course she'd be a bit anxious. "All right, Michael. We can do a couple of things. The first is that you don't go to the party. I will call Anna's mother and tell her that you are ill - unable to keep anything down - and I am keeping you home. That has the advantage of almost being the truth."

"Okay," Michelle murmured, "What is my other option?"

"You go to the party, of course." Michelle started looking a little green again, so Jane hurried on. "Look, you don't have to do anything at the party other than make a little small talk. If you don't want to dance, beg off. Act shy and uncertain. Tell Anna you are having cramps and don't want to dance. That will be a non-confrontational way to avoid that aspect of the party. Make sure you are always with several other people so no boy can get to you one on one. Go home early. I can be back there at eleven. Blame me. Tell them I have you on a curfew because I don't want to be out driving late."

She watched Michael consider all these things. "Okay, obviously you want me to go. What would I gain if I went and avoided the guys the way you say?"

"I did not say avoid them, dear. I said avoid being alone, one on one, with any of them. As to what you'd gain? Maybe some friends. And you could watch the other girls there deal with the boys. Maybe find some strategies that you could borrow to help you deal with them. So, Michael, what do you want to do?"

"I want to pull the covers over my head and make it all go away, Jane." came the reply in Michael's voice. "But," and now it was Michelle speaking, "what I am *going* to do is get dressed and go to the party."

Smiling, Jane rose as Michelle did. "Good girl. I will wait for you downstairs." and then her face became stern. "And *don't* dawdle. We are already late."
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 22 - Day 37

Dear Diary

Well, I don't feel like singing "I could have danced all night" like that woman in the musical, but I have survived my first party as a girl.

Anna was all solicitude when I hinted that I was in a very feminine condition and did not know if it was wise to go bouncing around on the dance floor. I don't know what she said, but that was sufficient to keep all but the densest of the male set from pestering me for dances.

Actually, once I had been there for about an hour, I figured out that no one was going to see me as anything other than "one of the girls". After that, I was able to relax and even began to enjoy myself. I liked chatting with the girls I had met Wednesday at Caro's. Most of them are pretty nice people although a couple of them seemed to want my blood. I didn't know what I had done, so I asked Anna. Turns out neither of them currently have a steady guy, but saw the guys they wanted giving me the eye. God, I never even noticed, but Anna thought that the boys had been pretty obvious in their attentions.

I think that is one of the things I learned tonight. Girls are much more sensitive to what is happening in the periphery about them. Guys are more direct and focused, and tend to see what is directly in front of their faces. Whereas women, or at least these women, just soak up information from all around them. I don't know if I can learn to do that effectively as the real girls do, but I am going to make an effort to see more than just what is right in front of me.

As Jane had suggested, I watched the other girls handle the guys. Most of it I have been on the receiving end of, but never recognized before. The half smiling, gentle retreating brush off, the "aren't we friends?" deflection all the way up to the "looking down my nose at something yucky stuck to the sole of my shoe" disdainful departure. I saw them done to great effect, but somehow, I don't think doing them myself will be quite as easy as a couple of the girls made them seem.

I also met a guy - his name is Dennis. He's about six feet tall, and athletically built with black hair and grey eyes. Yeah, I know what I said to Jane, and I meant it. Its just that this guy sort of snuck up on me. He never pressed, and he always let me move off when the group we were in dwindled to the pair of us. It did not help at all that he was funny and was able to make me laugh. Before the night was out, I was happily chatting with him and never even realized we were alone on the couch.

When it came time to go home, he asked if he could call on me at Aunt Jane's, which caught me completely by surprise. What the heck could I say? In a short lived burst of rationality, I told him I would need Aunt Jane's permission and he should call me first, so I could ask her. He *promised* that I'd hear from him.

Then, he took my hand in his and *kissed* it. I got all flustered and basically *ran* out to where Jane had the car waiting for me.

Dammit, I promised myself that I'd be honest in this damn fool diary if nowhere else in this crazy life of mine, so . . . .

My hand tingled when he kissed it. Hell, *I* tingled - I even started getting hard, for heavens sake. I *don't* like this. Not one little bit do I like this.

And to make matters worse, Anna called me today to congratulate me on hooking the guy most of the other girls wanted for themselves. Evidently, good ole Denny has not been very easy to land, but he is very good at nibbling at the bait without getting caught on the hook.

Great. Just what I need - a guy, that every other girl wants. Maybe I need to practice those "make the guy go away" maneuvers I saw last night? Wonder what Anna will say if I just toss him back into the sea, or just cut the line and let him swim off?

Michelle Nash

~------------~

Michelle Nash Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 25 - Day 40

Dear Diary

Well, Jane was as good as her word. Dance classes started today - two evenings a week - Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And guess who else is in my class? You got it - Dennis. He's also my practice partner, although I cannot figure out quite how he managed that. So now, I spend about 2 hours twice a week up close and personal to him.

Fortunately, when you are simultaneously trying to count and remember where to put your feet without falling down, you can ignore other things. What will happen if I ever actually start getting good at this stuff is another matter.

He kissed my hand again at the end of class. Same reactions as when he did it to me at the party. I had hoped that first time had only been a one time thing because the sensations was completely new to me and because he'd caught me unawares.

Nope. Definitely not one time only.

And I am scared to death.

Michelle Nash

~------------~

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 26 - Day 41

Dear Diary

I went to make up class today and saw Anna. While we were chatting, she asked how things were going with Dennis. I shrugged and told her that I wasn't trying to push anything, but had been surprised when he'd been in the same dance class as me.

Anna had burst out laughing at that. It took me several minutes to calm her down enough to find out what was so funny. Then she told me that Denny's mother *owns* that dance studio, and the last thing he needs is dancing lessons.

It does not feel quite that funny to me. In fact, while I am not sure quite what I feel, it definitely is not amusement.

I am all jumbled up inside. Oddly, a part of me is rather flattered that he would pursue me quite like that. Another, larger part, however, feels something like what the fox must feel like during the bugler sounds assembly for the hunters and hounds.

What next?

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 24. Fond Farewell
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 28 - Day 43

Dear Diary

Well, tomorrow we drive to Providence to put David on the plane for Illinois. God only knows why, but he's decided he wants to go to the University of Illinois at Urbana. I know this is right for Beth/David, but I am going to miss him.

Sandy just left. She undid most of David's "beth-i-ness" - at least everything that can be undone. It was easier and more effective *this* time since Jane hasn't made him get a permanent since before. . .well, since before he left that earlier time. Anyway, most of the curl came out when Sandy cut his hair this time. It seemed very strange looking across the dining table and seeing this male stranger with the shadow of Beth's face. My first instinct is to call him Beth, and I know that I have to school myself to stop that. Particularly anytime in the future if and when we are around anyone who knows or knew Beth.

Since David does not have any family to speak of, he's asked if he can come visit here at Jane's home for holidays and such. Jane said that since she wasn't taking in any new students for the foreseeable future, she'd love to have him come visit. Then she added that, perhaps, I could use David as my "away at college boyfriend" for after the New Year when I go back to school, assuming that I do that as Michelle. Having a college age boy friend may help deflect a lot of the unwanted male interest.

Unfortunately, I don't think that ploy is going to discourage Dennis. He hugged me today before he kissed my hand again.

I *don't* want to think about that now. I am too busy being sad about losing Beth.

Before he goes, there is something I have to do, something I should have done a long time ago.

Michelle Nash

~-------------~

No one in the house slept well that night. David was excited about starting his new life and going to school. Jane, Michelle and Maria contemplated the loss of someone who had become to Jane and Maria more than just another student, and to Michelle the sister neither she nor Michael ever had.

They were all up before dawn since David's flight departed Providence at seven am. Breakfast was a somber affair with none of them having very much to say. The sun's first weak rays were peaking over the horizon as they got into the Lincoln for the trip to the airport.

The paperwork at the check-in desk went without problem, and soon they were in the waiting area of David's departure gate.

"Damn, David, but I am going to miss you." Michelle said when the call came for his flight to board.

"I am going to miss you, too. You have my new address, Michelle, and I will call you just as soon as I have a phone number so you can reach me that way, too."

Michelle reached out to take his right hand in hers. "David?" she said, her voice rough and shaky.

"Yes, Michelle?"

"Thank you for saving my life all those weeks ago." Michelle's grip on his hand tightened spasmodically. "I know I'd be dead if you had not come in there and fought me for my life. And thank you for coming back when you had every reason to run as far from me as you could get."

"I'm . . I'm glad I was there in time, Michelle." David choked out against the emotions welling up in him.

The two young people stood transfixed, their hands together, their eyes locked. This moment would almost have been funny, Jane thought, if it wasn't so sad. If they had both been here as males, they could have shaken hands, thumped each other heartily on the back, perhaps even hugged. If they had both been here as females, they would have hugged, and maybe shared a kiss on the cheek. But this situation was neither of those, and they did not seem to know how to get past the gender roles they were both fighting against.

Suddenly, Michelle shuddered. "Oh, Hell!" she growled and moved in to wrap her arms around David and hug him fiercely. David's arms came around Michelle and the two friends held one another until Jane had to intervene.

"David," she said, putting a hand on each young person. "They're almost done loading the plane." Reluctantly, David and Michelle broke apart. David turned and went into Jane's arms for a hug and a quick, awkward kiss. For all the progress they had made in the past month and a half, Jane still had trouble showing affection to one of her students, and just now, she deeply regretted that.

"Thank you, Jane, for everything. I love you." David said through his tears. Embarrassed, he turned to the gate, only to almost run over Michelle.

Michelle went up on her toes to whisper in her friend's ear. "Be safe, David/Beth. I will miss you, big sister." and then planted a kiss of her own on his cheek.

"I have to go." was all David could get out.

Michelle and Jane watched in silence until the plane with David disappeared into the western skies. "Ready to leave, now?" Jane asked.

Michelle dug about in her purse and pulled out a pair of tissues. She handed one to Jane. "I guess, Aunt Jane, although if I look as raccoon-eyed as you do, I think we both need to make a quick trip to the ladies room.

Jane nodded and then led the way. She paused just before entering, and turned to Michelle. "By the way, remind me to add two more demerits to the green book, dear."

"Two?!?!?" she sputtered, before beginning to laugh softly. "Yes, Aunt Jane. I promise to remind you."

"Always on stage, pet." Jane reminded gently. Michelle nodded and then moved past Jane into the restroom.

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary August 29 - Day 44

Dear Diary

David just called to let us know he got there safely. I am glad he's safe, and happy for him that he has made it through Jane's program. As I understand it, the Judge will now seal all of the records and it will be as if he had been tried as a juvenile, effectively giving him a clean slate. He deserves it. He is a wonderful guy and Beth was a wonderful sister.

I've even forgiven her for helping Jane to set me up all those weeks ago. Before the incident, that is. It is not like Jane gave David/Beth any choice in the matter.

Dinner was strange. Must have been a half a dozen times one of us turned towards Beth's chair to say something to her. Heck, Maria even forgot and set a place for her, just like always.

I don't know what possessed me today, to hug him like that and then to plant one on his cheek. It just happened. It was like that I simply *needed* to express the depth of what I was feeling for him and those were the only things that came close to expressing that.

As I said, I don't know why I did those things, but I am glad that I did. I know now that I would always have regretted not doing them.

It is going to be hard without Beth. I am still afraid about developing really close friendships with any of the girls at Caro's, and Denny is making me increasingly nervous. I feel more isolated and more alone than I have in all the days since I left St. Andrews.

Another downer is the two demerits Jane assessed me at the airport. By my count, that puts me somewhere over the magic hundred, so I guess I'm a little surprised Jane did not tell me to report for my well earned mouthful of soap tonight. Maybe she has just decided today has been bad enough and is letting it go until tomorrow.

At least I lasted longer this time than last time.

Yuck.

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 25. Just Showin' Off
 
Michelle had hung back after the other girls had all rushed out of the Marisha Chalet following Caro's class. She really needed to talk to someone and after a great deal of thought, had decided that Carolyn might be the best person to start with. She could have tried Jane, but it was just so embarrassing and Michelle still remembered her times with Jane before her thankfully unsuccessful suicide entirely too well to completely trust the other woman with something so personal and so potentially humiliating.

Having finished collecting her cosmetics and cleaning up after a dozen girls, Caro looked up and noticed Michelle was still in the shop for the first time. They had been working on eyes today, complete with false eyelashes. The girl's eyes looked huge, haunting - it was just incredible. She had to stifle a momentary spurt of envy, and wished that such sexy eyes had not been wasted on a boy. She sighed and began arranging the tubes, bottles and boxes on their storage shelf. "You waiting for Jane, 'Chell?" Caro asked, using the nickname both she and Sandy had taken to using.

For her own part, Michelle could not decide whether she liked the nickname or not, but now was not the time to quibble about something as minor as that. "Not until I call. . . ummmm, . . Carolyn, could I talk to you for a few moments . . . out back?" Out back was the private room behind the main salon. Out back was where Sandy and Carolyn worked their evil magic on Jane's boys, at least until the lads became sufficiently lady-like to pass the scrutiny of the outer salon.

Surprised by the request, Carolyn nonetheless agreed since she had no appointments the rest of the afternoon. Once they were behind closed doors, Caro asked, "What's up? Problems? One of the girls looking at you too closely?"

"No. . .nothing like that. Caro. . . your husband,. . . ummm, he was one of Jane's students, wasn't he?"

"No harm in telling you that. Yes, he was. And since I knew him before Jane and loathed him as a real jerk, that is one of the reasons I elected to help Jane."

Michelle nodded. That was what Beth had said. "Carolyn, forgive me for asking this, and don't answer if it offends you, but I don't know who else to ask. Did your husband ever mention. . . feeling really feminine. . " and here the girl's face went scarlet under her new makeup job. "Ummm feminine, around guys." it all came out in a rush.

Momentarily taken aback by both the question and the manner, Carolyn could only stare at Michelle for several agonizingly long moments. Then she cleared her throat. "Not that he ever mentioned to me, dear. Am I to infer from this that you are feeling . . .or have felt feminine that way?" There was no mockery or sarcasm in Carolyn's voice - only concern.

"Last night. . . after dance class. Jane was a little late and Dennis walked me to the door. When Jane wasn't there, he . . well, he pulled me into a corner, away from the front window. . and . . .and" tears started to form little black rivulets down her cheek.

Fear clutched at Caro's throat, afraid of what she might learn. "What did he do, Michael?" she asked firmly, hoping the use of his male name would bolster him.

"He kissed me. . . with his tongue, Caro. . . and I *let* him. How could I just let him do that? I mean, I am a guy, too. Aren't I?"

The relief that it had not been worse washed over Carolyn and she was hard pressed not to laugh. "I take it that the experience was not unpleasant?"

"No." was the soft response. "I actually got . . .well, excited."

"As in you became erect?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Michelle nodded again. "Okay, luv. Look, we need to talk to Jane about this, and probably to that psychologist you are working with. I don't know if my darling hubby ever felt that way, but then, Jane never allowed him to be in uncontrolled situations where something like that could happen. Until you, Jane was always scrupulously careful to protect her girls from things like boys and sex. Even when it didn't seem that she was."

"I am so scared, Caro. It is all . . . so outside of anything I have ever had to deal with before."

"I expect that it would be, dear, but then, isn't *everything* you've experienced with Jane outside of anything you've ever had to deal with before?"

"Well, yes., but. . "

"But, nothing. Look at yourself. You are totally immersed in an intensely feminine experience. I don't think it is unrealistic to expect that you might respond to many situations the same as a born female would." At the darkening of Michelle's face, Carolyn held up a hand in restraint. "Let me ask you something, dear. What does Michael think of Anna?"

The answer was immediate. "She's the prettiest, nicest girl I have ever met."

"And what would *Michael* like to do with her?"

The smooth forehead above the finely shaped brows wrinkled in concentration. "I'd really like to get to know her better. . .maybe go out together. . .that sort of stuff."

"What does Michael think about maybe kissing Anna."

She almost laughed when a look of sheer masculine anticipation flitted across the very feminine face. "Oh, yeah." he breathed, and it was definitely Michael who'd responded.

They sat there quietly for a few minutes as Carolyn gave Michelle/Michael some room to deal with these new and uncomfortable ideas and emotions.

"So, this is part of being - really being Michelle?"

"Maybe it is part of *you* being Michelle, dear. I don't think you have to worry about it, dear. Just talk about it with Jane and the doctor, okay?" and she reached over to help the girl to her feet and begin walking to the door.

"Okay, Caro. Thank you. You have helped. A great deal." and she stopped and planted a soft kiss on the older woman's cheek. "Thank you very much." she said again.

"My pleasure." she replied, showing Michelle back into the main salon. A chiming bell caught their attention and they turned to see the shop's outer door opening to admit Brenda Franson - a very harried looking Brenda Franson.

"Caro. . . are any of your girls from your Wednesday class still here? One of the models for tonight's fashion show is ill, and there are just too many outfits for the others to handle in the scheduled time. I need someone else."

"Only Michelle, Brenda. The others were out the door like my place *was* school and not a beauty salon."

The other woman's face fell. "I don't know what to do. This is a very important show. Several of the Newport matrons are bringing the daughters to see gowns for the fall Harvest Ball."

"Well, then, how about Michelle?" Caro offered. Both Michelle and Brenda just gaped at her. "Well, she is the prettiest of the lot, you know." she added defensively.

"But she is not very tall, and besides. . .*she* is not really a she." Mrs. Franson protested.

"And how would I change, Caro. . .all the other women would see that I am wearing falsies, and I couldn't take off my panties. . .they'd see the gaff."

"That's no problem. . . we could say you are very shy, and since you agreed to help at the very last minute, Brenda is going to let you change in her office. We'd have to pick outfits that are not cut too low in the bodice, or that are designed not to show a lot of cleavage, but I don't think Brenda would be showing too many outfits like this to the royal mamas anyway. Would you, Brenda?"

The other woman's eyes became pensive as she weighed the options and considered the possible consequences. "How are you in heels, Michelle?"

"Okay in anything three inches or less, but who said I would do it?" Michelle asked indignantly.

"Would you? Please?" Brenda asked softly. "I really am in a bind, and it would be a great favor."

Having this woman owe her a favor appealed to Michelle. "I could use your office to change in?" she negotiated. Brenda nodded immediately. Then Michelle turned her eye on Caro. "And since *you* got me into this mess, it is only fair that you come with me and make sure that my makeup, hair and disguise are all perfect, don't you think, Carolyn of Marisha Chalet?"

"I'd give your shop a plug during the show." Brenda added quickly to the other woman. "All those women with all that money to spend on their darling daughters." she cajoled. "You could even come out and take a bow afterwards."

"Okay, okay." Caro laughed. "Let me get my tools and we'll be there in a few minutes, Brenda. Meanwhile, you select the right dresses for the second coming of Miss Christy Brinkley here and get them into your office."

Michelle was shocked speechless when the formerly cold Brenda Franson pulled her into a tight hug, saying "Thank you, Michelle, I really appreciate this." She just stood there, staring, as the dress shop owner hustled back to her store to do as Carolyn had directed.

"Oh my god. What have I gotten myself into now?"

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary September 2- Day 48

Dear Diary

My feet are *killing* me. Unfortunately, when I said I would help Brenda Franson at her store tonight, I didn't know that I would have to choose between only two sizes of shoe. Too large and too small. And since I probably would have walked right out of the larger ones, we had to use the too small pairs. They were only a half size too small, but when they are high heels, that half size is quite a bit. And oh by the way, I measured the heel on those darn things after the show. Four inches, easily. Every frippin' one of them.

Still, it actually turned out to be a lot of fun. I got quite a bit of teasing from the professional models, over my "shyness". I mean, they just rush into the main room, pulling stuff off as they run to where the next outfit has been laid out for them. Since they did not know my "shyness" is spelled p. .e. . n. . i. .s, they did not realize what kind of show they were putting on in the dressing room. Good thing I have been wearing that damned gaff to Caro's classes. It *hurt* like a . . .. well, you get the idea.

And the dresses were neat. Having Caro come to help was inspired on my part, even if my initial motivation had more to do with fear than with a desire for success. Caro made getting into each outfit a lot easier and her skill with makeup gave me a whole lot more confidence than I would have had if I'd had to do up my face all by myself.

Brenda let me miss the first rotation and just watch what the professional models did when they strutted down the walkway in front of the assembly. When that first set of dress showings was about half done, I went back into the dressing room and tried to mimic some of their movements and gestures while having Caro critique me. Moving like that is NOT easy. I think the too small shoes may have helped, though. It is practically impossible to over stride when your toes are screaming.

Caro literally had to push me out onto the stage that first time. God, I was as scared then as I ever can remember being. The funny thing is that I was not really afraid of being unmasked. Somehow, I knew I was beautiful and all anyone was going to see was a pretty girl in a lovely dress. No, I was just afraid of messing up. Like tripping over my feet in those infernal heels and ending up in the lap of some society matron.

Finally, Caro whispered at me to "MOVE!" and I moved. I am still surprised my legs did not give out on me during that first pass down and back. All I could think of was keeping my head erect and steady so I would not drop Conan-Dolye on my toes. I was shaking all over, but once I made it back to the top of the runway, I started feeling a little better.

By the finale, I thought I was actually doing a rather good job of it. I was certainly moving more freely, more confidently, and so what if my hand movements and presentations were not quite as practiced as those of the professionals. Caro said I was the perfect little exhibitionist. I don't know about that, but it sure was fun struttin' my stuff and showing off - frantic, but fun.

In fact, after the show, Caro said she'd overheard one of the audience tell Brenda that the "little blond one was perfect. Now I know just what my daughter will look like in that dress and won't have to worry that what I liked was the professional model and not the dress." Made me feel pretty good inside.

What made me feel even better was having Brenda come running into the office and practically squeeze the stuffing out of me after the show was over. She had gotten several immediate orders from the show's attendees, and three of them were for dresses I had modeled. She *even* offered to pay me - and then was offended when I told her she did not need to because I already owed her for her help on the Committee.

She finally told me that was okay, but the next time, she was paying me at the going rate for models.

The *next* time? Well, I guess there will be one. . . maybe more. Brenda is thinking of having the girls from the Wednesday afternoon class take over a lot of her modeling work. Particularly if it involves teenage fashions. I sure would have liked to see Anna in that low cut, off the shoulder blue satin sheath one of the models wore.

I have also talked to Jane about Dennis. She said she'd speak to his Mother if I thought that might help, but she felt that my feelings about being kissed were natural and not a problem. Like Caro, she pointed out that I still was aroused by girls. I am relieved, but it is as much for that almost hard-on through the gaff when those models went down to bare skin in front of me as for anything else. Hard physical evidence, don't you think?

I am beat.

Michelle Nash

Jane sat in her garden, enjoying the silence of the warm September night. Brenda had called to ask Jane to thank Michelle again for stepping in and helping her, and to see if Jane could not convince the child to accept at least a modest payment. Jane wondered idly if Michelle fully understood what she had done this day. Probably not. She was probably glowing over the compliments and the attention, and pleased that she had managed to pull off the deception under those conditions.

First, the girl had begun to learn real poise under pressure today. Carolyn had said that it was like you could see the girl's confidence in her personal power growing with each new dress and with each trek down and back on the runway. That confidence would pay real dividends in a month or so when her girl had to decide which path she would take - Michael's or Michelle's.

But it was the second aspect of today's rite of passage that pleased Jane the most. Even as afraid of being quite so publically under the microscope as Jane knew she was, her girl had been willing to help Brenda. The old Michael, the troublemaking instigator of St. Andrews Academy, would not have been so willing. He certainly would not have turned down payment for his help afterwards. Hell, he would have held her up for every cent he could squeeze out of her, even though he had absolutely no need for the money. No, she had simply decided to help a person that she had reason to hold a grudge against, and had not given the matter another thought after making the decision.

That made Jane very proud of her Michelle.
 
 
Chapter 26: Just Deserts
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary September 30- Day 76

Dear Diary

Well, it is less than a week until yours truly must make a decision - whether to stay Michelle and proceed with my plans vis a vis my Mother. Or to let go of that anger and hurt, revert to Michael, and simply get on with my life.

I'd rather expected this to be an easier choice, but that is not the case. I feel very at odds with myself over this.

For starters, one thing that I thought would push me towards abandoning this charade was living *as* Michelle. I figured it might be difficult and humiliating. With the exception of my three bouts of soap in the mouth syndrome, my life as Michelle has been neither of those things. I guess I have a talent for the role, because I seem to have picked up on most things pretty easily.

And of course, I must admit that confronting my Mother with the loss of her son as Michelle still holds a great deal of appeal. I am not so sure I particularly *like* that little home truth about myself, but it remains a fact that I want to do . . . something to her. What Jane and I have planned seems somehow less malicious than showing her up in front of her friends.

On the downside, if I stay as Michelle, I am going to have to do something about good old Dennis. The guy will simply not give up. I have tried everything, short of endangering his ability to father future generations, to discourage him, but he just keeps coming on to me. Even when I showed him the "pre-engagement ring" Jane gave to wear, saying it was from David, he still tried to kiss me in the dark corners at his Mother's studio. When I told him that was not very honorable, making a move on another man's girl when he was not around to protect what was his, he just laughed. Said that David was a fool, and a pre-engagement ring is not an engagement ring, so I was still "fair game".

Makes me sound like a damned rabbit trying to scurry away and into my rabbit hole.

Part of the problem is that I really do like him. He makes me really laugh, and I enjoy laughing. Never did much of it before I came here - not real laughing, that is. Mostly at St. Andrews, the laughter was *at* someone else's expense, and that cheapened the pleasure of it, although I did not know it then. Now I do know, and that is in part due to Dennis.

He calls me on the days we don't have dance class. We just talk about stuff, and before I quite know it, we've been at it for almost an hour. It makes Jane smile - one of those smiles that makes the hair on my neck stand on end.

For the past few days, he has been bugging me to go with him to his school's Harvest Festival Dance. The dance is in October, a few days after Jane and I are scheduled to be back from Nevada on my "end of trial" holiday as Michael. The scariest part of all this is that my first inclination is to say *yes*.

If I went back to being Michael, none of this would be my problem anymore. Michelle would go back to her "home" and Michael would come to stay with his Aunt Jane. Or maybe it would be safer to stay with Eric. Michael is going to look a lot like Michelle for several weeks, and I suspect that my new friends, particularly the Wednesday makeup class, will see through Michael to Michelle instantly.

Well, I have again filled pages arguing with myself, and still have come to no conclusion. If this keeps up, I may just stay Michelle because I don't know what else to do. Not a very good reason for a life altering decision, is it?

On another issue, by my count, I should have been eating a soap bar days ago. Now, my numbers are usually a bit higher than Aunt Jane's , since I count all my verbal foul ups and she counts only the ones she hears. Still, she should have hit one hundred over a week ago.

When Aunt Jane does not hold true to form, that usually means she is up to something. And *that* always makes me very nervous. *VERY* nervous.

Michelle Nash

Jane sat at her study desk, and stared at the calendar on her desk. October third was circled in wide red marker - the day when Michelle's trial period closed. Only two more days before she found out if she was going to have a niece or a nephew staying with her for the foreseeable future.

Jane wasn't sure she knew what she wanted the choice to be, any more than her ward knew. On one hand, it was probably best for the child to see this thing through to the very end, no matter how painful its consequences might be for everyone concerned. And for herself, Jane admitted, she *liked* having this Michelle around the place. She *liked* Michelle.

Conversely, Michelle would be showing a great deal of maturity if she abandoned her spiteful quest against her Mother. *If* she abandoned it because she had decided that she no longer wanted or needed to get even.

Jane's fear was that Michelle might decide to abandon the game because of the continued attentions of Dennis. She had to hand it to that young man, he certainly was tenacious. It was a good thing he lived locally or Jane's monthly phone bills would be whoppers given all the time the two teens spent talking with each other on the phone. Jane's little Michelle had developed quite a crush on that lad, only she was afraid of what she felt for Dennis and therefore refused to admit or acknowledge her feelings. She might just become Michael again to end that fear. And that would be the worst possible reason.

Jane had already made preliminary inquiries on a scheme she had developed to help Michelle and Michael get some needed emotional distance and balance. Unfortunately, they needed to be on their vacation for her plan to work, and again unfortunately, that came after Michelle's decision date.

"Aunt Jane?" The quiet voice shook Jane out of her reveries, and she looked up to see Michelle peaking around the cracked open study door. "May I come in?"

Jane beckoned her in, and then was somewhat surprised to see that Michelle was wearing one of Michael's exercise warm up suits. "Aunt Jane, I'd like to call one our timeouts, please." her ward said in the deeper tones of Michael's speaking voice.

Jane did not want to grant this request because she was afraid she knew what he wanted to say. Still, she motioned him to one of the easy chairs and came over to join him. "All right, Michael. What is it you wish to discuss?"

Michael opened a book that Jane recognized as the diary she had given Michelle at the beginning of their trial. "Aunt Jane, according to my figures, which have been running only a few counts ahead of yours until now, you are overdue in calling Michelle to accounts for unfeminine language and behaviors."

Momentarily speechless, Jane could only stare at her ward. "You. . .you want to be disciplined? You want me to wash your mouth out with soap like a naughty bad mouthed little child?"

"Hel. . . I mean, heck no, Aunt Jane. I hate that, but it was part of the deal we made, and a reminder I have decided I need if I am going to learn to overcome Michelle's bad case of potty mouth."

"Why should you care, Michael? Two more days and you can take off the skirts without breaking your word, and then it does not matter, beyond basic courtesy, what you say."

Michael sat very still at that moment, his grey-green eyes locked on Jane's. After a few moments of this, Jane found she had to consciously refrain from fidgeting under her ward's intense gaze. "So that's why." he finally said in a very soft undertone. "You aren't doing it because you don't want my mouth filled with soap bubbles at the moment I have to open it to tell you my decision."

Jane broke eye contact with Michael and looked away. "Isn't that the reason, Aunt Jane?" Michael pressed.

Finally, she sighed deeply, and then nodded. "You might still have demons, Michael, that only Michelle can help you exorcize. I did not want you making a poor decision because you were reacting angrily to one of my disciplines. Whatever decision you make, I want it to be made rationally, not emotionally."

"I understand now." Michael looked down at the book and Jane thought he might be reading some passage in the book. She wished she knew what it said and what he was thinking at that moment. "Suppose, Aunt Jane, I told you that I have already made my decision - that I am absolutely certain what I am going to do. What would you say to that?"

His aunt gave him a resigned smile. "I would say that it is completely in character for someone with the iron will I have seen in both you and Michelle. Knowing you both, I expect that there is no way your mind is going to change?" Michael only shook his head, his eyes firm. "Well, why don't we just end the trial here and now, then. I don't think there's any sense delaying for another two days. If you want to discard your skirts, I will have Maria go up and move all the fripperies out this afternoon."

"You mean that, don't you?" he asked wonderingly.

"I gave you my word, dear. I don't see much point in continuing another two days just to keep you as Michelle for that length of time. I am going to miss having her around, but I look forward to getting to know my nephew, too."

"Well, that is a shame." Michael muttered. "Because I am going to stay as Michelle. I haven't finished what I set out to do three months ago, and I am not ready to give up on that goal just yet. I am not so sure of what I am going to do as I was back then, but one thing I do know - only Michelle can do what must needs be done."

Jane rose and went back over to stand by her desk. "I see. You are sure?" Michael nodded. "Very well, Michael. We will continue as we have, then. Are we finished with this timeout, then?" she asked.

"Yes, Aunt Jane, thank you." and this time the voice that responded was Michelle. She rose and turned to leave the study.

"Oh, Michelle?" Jane called as her ward reached the door. Michelle half turned back to her aunt, a single brow lifted in silent inquiry. Jane lifted a familiar notebook and glanced at the pages. "You have accumulated sufficient demerits since your last discipline for two sessions. I will expect you in my room at 9:30 tonight for the first session. We will take care of the second one tomorrow evening at the same time."

She watched, amused as first surprise, then anger and finally resignation flitted across Michelle's mobile features. "We still do need to smooth out your rough edges, dear." Jane said softly, but without a hint of apology.

"Nine thirty. I will be there, Aunt Jane." she turned away only to stop one last time. "And thank you." She left before Jane could even frame a response.

Excerpt: Michelle's Diary October 3- Day 79

Dear Diary

I am sitting here, my mouth full of suds, waiting for the final minutes to tick by so that I can go rinse the soap out of my mouth. Aunt Jane told me she trusted my sense of honor to follow the rules and not to cleanse my palette before my sentence is completely served. So now I am the instrument of my own punishment. And all I need to do in order to get relief is to break my promise. Sometimes, honor stinks - or as in tonight's case, leaves a very bad taste in your mouth.

sigh.

In the end, I made the decision to stay Michelle because it is the only choice that leaves my options open. Frankly, I cannot decide what I want to do. Once I reach that decision, I will know what path to take. All I know is that changing back to Michael permanently ends the plan. I cannot quit and then go back and say, I want to do it again - let me be Michelle again. That is not fair to Jane. Besides, if I am going to do this thing, I need all the practice, all the learning that I can get. And if I finally decide that I no longer want to show my Mother the error of ignoring Michael and then creating Michelle, then having lived another few months as Michelle, or even a few years as Michelle will not have hurt anyone. The only one who loses anything by that decision is Michael and he. . .that is, *I* don't mind being Michelle all that much any more.

I mean, I have more friends as Michelle, in the girls at Caro's, and especially Anna, then Michael could have laid claim to in his entire life B.J.T. (Before Jane Thompson). Real people who like *me* and not the size of my father's fortune. And it is not as if I cannot go to school as Michelle, because Jane assures me that I can - We just have to find a way around the School Nurse and physical education. Both of which Jane has promised me are not really obstacles.

I am relieved to have that decision done and over with. Now if I could just figure out what I am going to do about Dennis and that infernal school dance.

I guess this is where I play Scarlet O'Hara and say I will worry about it tomorrow. Or more correctly, after I get back from Tahoe. I really need the break!

Michelle Nash
 
 
Chapter 27. Vacation in the Mountains
 
Michael and Jane slipped out of the house before dawn for the trip to Providence where they would catch their flight. Jane had decided on the early morning departure primarily to ensure that her ward was not seen by any of the locals as Michael now that he was well known as Michelle. The return flight was also chosen to have them arriving back home well after dark for the same reason. She also wanted to arrive in Reno in time to rent a car and still arrive at their rented cabin on Lake Tahoe during daylight. Jane had been in the desert mountains at night and did not relish doing it again.

As she maneuvered her Lincoln up US Route 1 towards the interstate, she considered her passenger critically. He was, as they had both anticipated, somewhat effeminate in both manner and bearing. Although Caro had worked on his face, hiding the finely arched brows and shadowing the smooth soft skin, other things were more difficult to disguise.

Michael had to consciously remind himself to swing his arms and not his hips when he walked. After all his recent experiences wearing mostly high heeled shoes, he also tended to walk toe to heel instead of heel to toe. His body language, which was even harder to control, was extremely feminine and Jane knew she'd have to keep a close eye on him so that he would not give too much away when they were out in public. Additionally, he had a tendency to slip into Michelle's voice whenever he forgot that he was supposed to be Michael on this trip.

All things considered, it was just as well that they were going to be almost three thousand miles from home in a relatively rural area during the off season. October was not Tahoe's best season. Too soon for the skiers, and too cold for the campers and boaters. That, along with one other aspect of their vacation location, made the place perfect for Jane's purposes. Michael would be able to relax and let down his guard without the danger of being recognized, and hopefully, he'd learn some important lessons that would stand him in good stead later on in his life.

They arrived at the airport at just the right time. They were able to go directly to their loading gate without having to wait outside the security area. The less time spent in open parts of the airport where someone might recognize her and come over to chat, the better.

The loading onto the airplane, the flight and the arrival in Reno went off without incident. Shortly after ten in the morning, local time, Michael was happily behind the wheel of the four wheel drive sports utility vehicle that Jane had reserved. Driving was a pleasure that he could not afford to do as Michelle because for all Jane's many judge contacts, getting a driver's license for her ward in his feminine persona had been impossible. And Michelle could not take the chance of being stopped by a police officer. Even a routine safety stop by the police would require Michelle to present her license, which showed a young man, not a young woman.

They arrived in Tahoe around two pm and went immediately to the realtor who managed the rental cabin in which they'd would be spending the next week. After obtaining the key and directions to the cabin, they stopped at a supermarket for supplies.

Jane carefully watched the people who came in contact with Michael. He slipped up in his masculine behaviors several times, but no one seemed to take much notice. She expected that vacation escapees from San Francisco had inured the locals to differently behaved people.

The cabin was beautiful, and the surrounding vistas were even better. Located up a mountainside, they only had a short walk through a forest of mountain trees to be able to see the lake. The only drawback was the temperature, which was topping out at fifty degrees F during the day, and dropping into the thirties and twenties at night. They would not be doing any swimming on this trip, which was actually all to the best. Michelle's bathing suit tan had not yet faded from Michael's torso.

Night comes early and dark in the mountains, but both travelers were exhausted from the travel and from the eighteen hour day they'd had in two time zones. Nine p.m. local time saw them both in their beds, sound asleep.
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary October 5 - Day 81

Dear Diary

It feels strange to be writing in this thing and not be dressed in Michelle's finery. Still, I think I am going to keep up with these entries. Mostly because if I ever do become a research psychiatrist, these observations, untrained though they are, might be of value some how.

The second reason is kind of funny, really. It has become a habit to write things down in here. Little victories and little defeats. Things that make me feel good or happy, and things that make me feel low or sad. I actually picked it up to start writing without even thinking about it.

Come to think of it . . .I don't remember packing it. I wonder if I did, or if Maria did it for me? No matter. I am glad it is here.

Wonder if I should lead off entries with something other than "dear diary". The sounds awfully "Michelle-ish" for Michael to be doing. What would I call it - a journal? Ahhh, what's the point? Surely I am too far along to feel threatened by how I write in my diary.

Sure feels almost uncomfortable to be wearing cotton jockey shorts instead of Michelle's dainties. As for my other clothes, well, let's just say the Sonja has had the desired effect. I have lost about 10 pounds and have tightened up what's left. And on my small frame and height, that is a significant amount of weight. I had to punch extra holes in one of my belts just to keep my jeans from falling off me. A fashion plate or a candidate for a GQ cover I am definitely NOT.

That's probably all right, since I keep slipping up and putting on Michelle without even thinking about it. Sometimes I caught myself; sometimes Jane pointed out my little femme habits. At least if no one particularly notices me, they won't look at me long enough to realize that my movement, body language and attitudes can shift to those of my female persona. Of course, I saw several folks at the market who were far more gaudy and swishy than I.

It is just a little annoying that now that I do not have to worry about being on stage as Michelle, it is Michael that is becoming the role that requires conscious thought to pull off.

I am beat. Gonna go to bed.

Michael Nash.
 
 
Jane set down the phone well pleased with her arrangements. They'd been in Tahoe for three days, and it was time for the other part of her plan. She'd waited this long because she wanted Michael to become just a little more natural in his male role. Now the arrangements had been made for tomorrow morning. Actually, it had gone better than she had hoped.

In the kitchen, she could hear Michael humming to himself as he prepared their evening meal. One thing was certain, if Michael was to be Michelle for any length of time, Jane would have to insist that she take Home Ec when she returned to school. It was all right for Jane not to be able to cook, but Michelle needed to learn. Especially if she was going to feed Jane.

After their meal, Jane helped with the cleaning up and then motioned Michael into the small living room. "Michael, tomorrow I have planned a surprise for you. We need to be on the road bright and early, so you might want to get to bed early tonight."

"A surprise, Aunt Jane?" the young man wheedled. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise, silly. One you will find out about when we get to where we are going. Now, go to bed."

Michael's grousing was good humored, and he surprised Jane by planting a small kiss on her cheek before he went up to his bed in the cabin's loft.
 
 
Excerpt: Michelle's Diary October 8 - Day 84

Dear Diary

So Aunt Jane is planning a surprise for me. A few months ago, the mere hint of an "Aunt Jane's surprise" would have terrified me. Now, I'm looking forward to it with pleasant anticipation - like I know it is going to be a *good* surprise.

It's a good thing that this high, thin mountain air tires you out so much. I would have hard time sleeping if I wasn't so beat from Jane's and my hike around the surrounding landscape today.

God, but it is beautiful up here. Seems so very far away from my life and problems. I like it.

Michael Nash

~-----------~

Somewhat to his disappointment, Jane insisted on driving them when the departed the cabin. "I know where we are going, and I don't want you to know until we get there." she said teasingly.

Michael had spent the greater part of he morning mulling over what Aunt Jane had planned. It wasn't a day at the casinos. He wasn't eighteen yet, and so could not even play the slots legally. Besides, he knew the route they had taken from Reno, and Jane had not taken that turn.

The trip took about two hours, and by the time she made the final turn onto the access road of their destination, Michael was in a high dudgeon over her refusal to tell him anything.

They reached a sign that read "Mustang Ranch" and then came to a gate with a small guard shack next to it. A portly man in a generic security uniform stepped out and came to the car. Jane rolled the window down and announced, "Jane Thompson. I believe your employer is expecting me." The man quickly checked a clipboard, nodded Jane a quick salutation, and opened the gate.

"Mustang Ranch, Aunt Jane? Am I going to learn how to ride?" Michael asked.

"In a manner of speaking, Michael." was Jane's faintly amused response. Michael smiled at the idea. As surprises went, this one was at least different. He might have preferred something else, like taking in a Vegas-style floor show, but this could be fun, too.

Jane parked the car in front of a huge, rambling house that looked like it had seen many spur of the moment additions over its lifetime. Spires, dormers, octagonal towers were seemingly thrown together haphazardly in whatever place that might have had room for the addition. The result was a place that looked like a white clapboard combination castle and ranch house.

Michael started to get out, but Jane caught his arm. "Michael," she said firmly, "When we go inside, I want you to do exactly what you are told because if you are going to learn, you ought to learn well. However, secondly and most importantly, I want you to have fun. This is supposed to fun for everyone involved." Confused, Michael nodded his agreement but could not help wondering how much fun a horse could have when dealing with an inexperienced rider.

As they exited the car, a petite woman with gray shot black hair came out on the porch. She was dressed in a fine blue linen business suit and beckoned the pair of them to come up onto the porch. "Hello there, folks. I'm Jean. You'd be Ms. Thompson?" she asked with a welcoming smile on her face.

Jane took the lady's hand and returned the smile. "Yes, and this is my nephew, Michael." She offered her hand to Michael and he also shook her hand.

"Well, c'mon in. Everything's ready." and she took them both by their arms and walked into the strange house.

Inside the front door was an unusually large sitting room with seating all around the periphery of the room, as well as several small conversation groupings in the center of the room.

A door on the wall opposite the entry way opened. Michael turned to see who was entering and did a classic double take.

The woman who entered the room was very tall, easily five inches taller than his own five feet six inches if she had been bare foot. She wasn't. In her spiked heels, which Michael guessed had to be more than four inches, she stood almost a foot taller than he did. The rest of her was in perfect proportion to her height.

Physically, she was a very pretty woman. Her hair was long, and a deep golden blonde. She wore some light cosmetics, but she had a lovely complexion that really did not require much in the way of artificial enhancement. She wore a one piece mint green sweater dress that suited her and showed off her incredible legs.

My god, Michael thought, his mouth going dry. Change her hair to silver blond and she is a dead ringer for Sonja. Aware of her effect on the young man, the woman sauntered over to where he stood with the other two women.

"Michael?" Jean said. "This is Karen. She will be your instructor today. Now, you have the entire day, thanks to your Aunt's generosity, so pay attention and enjoy yourself."

"How do you do, Karen." Michael said with a lump in his throat. Was she going to change for the lesson?

"And howdy to you, too, Michael." She answered, a small smile on her lips. Her voice was low, husky and had just a touch of a western accent. Michael was entranced by her. "Well, shall we get started?" she asked, as she took his hand and began to lead him away.

"I will be here when you are finished, Michael." Jane called to him just before they disappeared through the same door Karen had entered from. "Have fun, dear."

The two women stood there for a moment before Jean turned to Jane. "Y'know," she drawled. "As I told you on the phone, Ms. Jane, Karen isn't exactly my first choice for a cherry picking. Don't get me wrong - she's good at what she does - very good, in fact. Your boy will have a great time, but she isn't likely to get much out of it. That is usually a part of this type of thing - lettin' the boy know when he's done it right."

Jane smiled enigmatically. "Well, I hope you are wrong, but Michael has a huge crush on a lady back home who looks very much the same as your Karen, which is part of the reason I picked her from your brochure." And I can't tell you the other reason which is that I wanted her all the more once Jean had explained why Karen was not her first choice. She really rather hoped Michael was up to the task. And if he wasn't, he'd still have a very nice experience if the lady was as skilled as Jean had promised. Probably, even if she wasn't that skilled, given the volatility of youth.

~------------~

Michael was a little confused when Karen led him up a long flight of stairs to a sumptuously furnished bedroom in one of the octagonal towers. His first thought was that there certainly enough mirrors in the place.

He turned to see Karen regarding him levelly, that little half smile still curving her mouth. Unnerved by her scrutiny, Michael began to blather. "Ummm. . . did we come up here so you could change?" he asked.

The smile widened a bit. "Sounds like a good start to me, Michael."

"Okay." he answered her as he turned away from her to find a place to wait for her to go off and change. "Is what I wearing suitable? Aunt Jane did not tell me what she'd planned so I did not ask what to wear."

"Oh, I think we can do a bit better than that, lover." she crooned. and then almost stopped Michael's heart as she pulled the sweater dress up over her head and then stood before him in nothing but very slinky, very black lingerie.

"Ummmm. . . K.K.Karen. .. " Michael he stuttered. "Have you forgotten I am in the room with you? You are undressed."

A soft laugh bubbled up from her, as she began slinking towards him, her eyes fixed on his. "Well, darlin', it is pretty difficult for you to make love to me with all those clothes on. Now. . let's get you out of yours."

"Out of my clothes? HERE???"

She had her hand on his belt. "Well, it is usually best to do it in a bed the first time, but if you want, we can try some other places once you get the basics down." and then she pulled his much smaller frame into a tight embrace as she gave him his first tongue kiss from a woman.

It finally dawned on Michael that the only mustang on this ranch was painted on the sign outside the main gate. Aunt Jane had hired this lady to make love with him. . .no, not quite. . .Karen was supposed to teach him how to make love.

Michael was not quite sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew, he was nude and lying on the huge bed with Karen's long, lovely body curled around him. Her fist had his cock in a firm, yet gentle grip as she stroked him to full erection while her mouth did incredible things to secret places behind his ears and the pulse points of his neck. Caught up in a wild maelstrom of feeling and emotion, Michael felt the sudden tightening in his guts and the uncontrollable twitching that heralded the onset of his climax.

Karen felt it, too. "Well, if we're going to get anywhere today, we have got to get you a little less. . .jumpy." she whispered throatily as she sat up beside him. Michael expected her to continue the exquisite hand job, but instead, she bent over his dick and then inhaled him whole.

The sudden wet, sucking heat felt so incredibly wonderful, Michael's eyes crossed in pleasure. But the immediate pleasure was only momentary for within moments of her taking him in her mouth, he was jetting his seed into her mouth.

Michael simply laid there on the bed with Karen stroking him as he gathered his shattered wits. Then, he was disappointed because it had been so wonderful, but so short. Karen saw him frown. "Hey, whatsamatter?" she asked softly.

He felt like crying, but managed to control that. "It didn't last long enough. I barely knew what was happening and then it was over."

A knowing smile lit her eyes as she began to stroke him more seriously. "Honey," she told him as she kissed him again, "It isn't over 'cause it hasn't even started yet."

This time her kiss was oddly salty, but certainly not unpleasant. In fact, it was *very* pleasant. It was not until much later that he realized the source of that saline flavor, and by then, it simply did not matter.

She soon had him fully aroused again, and after showing him how to protect himself and her, guided him into her body. As great as it had felt when she had taken him into his mouth, it could not begin to compare to this.

They spent the next two hours making love in a variety of ways and positions. He let her guide him, let her teach him how to stroke into her slowly, and then pull out so that he rubbed against her clitoris. She set the initial rhythm, but slowly let him take charge. He learned how to use his hands and mouth on her as both foreplay and as part of the actual intercourse.
 
 
To Be Continued...
 



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