Seasons of Change - Book 6 - The Christmas Season

Aunt Jane is feeling sorry for herself because she is alone for Christmas.

Or is she?

Seasons of Change
Book 6
The Christmas Season

by Tigger

Copyright © 1998,1999,2012 Tigger
All Rights Reserved.


Author's Note: Archiving and reposting of this work is permitted only on sites where *no* fee (including so called adult checks) of any type is charged and provided that my authorship, the story itself and this statement of rights (including the attribution to Mr. Lawrence's original story) are included and are unchanged.

Essentially, the principal character, Jane Thompson, is a woman who uses her "Victorian Method of Petticoat Training" to deal with hardcore young males who are in serious need of civilizing. She usually keeps two cross dressed students at a time - a senior student ("big sister") who helps with the indoctrination and initial training of the junior student (little sister).

This story asks the question: how does such a woman pass her Christmas holiday?

The Christmas Season
Jane Thompson took another look at her gaily decorated parlor and sighed quietly. A Yule Log blazed cheerfully in the pine- garland-gilt hearth; crepe-streamers in bright reds and greens cascaded from each ceiling corner to the crystal chandelier above her head. The tree was beautiful - sparkling with tiny fairy lights and tinsel, and of course, topped with the little girl angel she'd bought because it reminded her of one of her students. Her gaze shifted back upwards, to where dozens of colorful, fanciful holiday cards encircled her, lovingly taped along the crown molding. Each card was a memory - a friend, a colleague, an acquaintance - but the vast majority were from her boys; the young men she'd led to manhood by teaching them to be girls first.

Every one of her boys, except for the lad she'd graduated only a short week ago, had remembered her with a card. She hadn't really expected anything from Shelly - Sheldon Harris the Third was too close to his admittedly harsh experience with Jane to feel very fond of her. Perhaps in the future, he'd come to recognize Jane's version of tough-love for what it really was, and find it in himself to think fondly of her.

Shelly had been through a particularly hard four months with Jane. First because he was as arrogant, snotty, overblown young male animal as she had ever had to deal with, but secondly and more importantly, because he'd been too close to his majority. Soon after the New Year, Sheldon, or Trip as he preferred to be called, was going to turn eighteen whereupon his mother's wishes ceased to have any hold on the young man. So he'd been treated to the full Jane Thompson course of studies. It had actually been fun to get one she could really cut loose on, really put the fear of Jane into, and initially, he'd fought her. He'd lost, of course, Jane simply had too much experience and he was the ideal subject for her method, but it had been an extremely trying and painful rite of passage for him.

If she'd had more time, she could have taken things more slowly, more gently, at least a little bit, and taken longer in breaking him down. Only she hadn't had more time, so she'd been forced to be quite brutal with Trip. Even towards the end, when she'd seen all the signs she looked for when one of her girls "turned the corner", he'd never become at all that close to Jane. Part of that was that he had not gone through the experience of being a big sister and working with Jane as they indoctrinated a new student.

Not having a new junior student move in when Shelly's big sister had graduated had been a conscious decision on Jane's part. Whether Jane deemed him finished or not, Shelly was going to be leaving Jane's home only two short months after his big sister had left. Either when Jane would "graduate" Shelly back into Trip's trousers or when Sheldon's birthday removed him from his Mother's and therefore Jane's power. No big sister was better than one who disappeared too soon in her little sister's indoctrination period. That would raise questions that Jane could not answer and still proceed with the little sister's training.

A week ago, Jane had admitted to herself that there was little more she could accomplish with him. The improvement in him was startling and it had been days since she had honestly found something in his deportment and manners that was in anyway unpleasing. Jane just hoped it was real and not an act, but keeping him with her and in skirts over the holidays would have accomplished little. Such an action might even have upset him enough to make him reject her teachings out of hand and revert to his old habits. So she'd freed him from her petticoated prison.

Trip had not said a single word to Jane after she had told him she was graduating him. He'd submitted in silence to Caro and Sandy restoring his masculine appearance, had ridden to the train station without saying a word and then had boarded the train without so much as a wave or a backward look.

The utter lack of any feeling from him that day had hurt Jane badly. Even the memories still hurt.

Well, she'd been tough on students before, and they had eventually come to appreciate what she had done for them; even coming to care for her. It just was just so painful when they left - particularly this time since there was no one else in the house to focus her attentions on, to help her ignore the feeling of emptiness, of loss, and yes, of hurt.

How come the evil, manipulating, feminizing bitch-women of so much of the TG fiction on the Internet never seemed to feel like this, she wondered sadly to herself. Life would be so much easier if her feelings were so remote, so plastic. She was so very good at putting up the mask of indifference to their fears and humiliation, and she honestly had to admit that she enjoyed inflicting those emotions on the little darlings, but it was only a mask. A woman did not dedicate her life to helping, and she really was helping, *dammit*, young men and not have a caring side to her. She just was never able to show it to them.

It was just the holiday season, she told herself yet again. Everyone is depressed about something and this time of year just amplifies that feeling. At least her other boys remembered her fondly, she mused, smiling as she scanned the row upon row of greeting cards one more time.

If only she wasn't alone, dammit. She could get past the melancholia that had closed in on her when Marie had left for church and to spend the day with her family in Providence if she had someone to spend the day with.

In the past, Marie and Jane had always done something special with the girl-boys they had with them at the time. For a few days, they were allowed to relax and enjoy themselves, albeit still in skirts, but without the constant mind games and verbal torments that were part and parcel of Jane's method. A couple of times, Mothers had come to share the Christmas feast with Jane's little group. That had worked well once (the boy had been well along in his rehabilitation and the Mother had been effusive in her praise) and disastrously the other time (the boy had not yet turned the corner and the Mother had teased him mercilessly setting Jane back weeks with that one).

This was the first time in almost twenty years Jane had not had at least one skirted boy in her home over the holidays. The huge Victorian house seemed so empty, so devoid of life. She'd thought to invite some of her friends over to share the holiday, but that had not worked out. Carolyn and her husband, Bill were celebrating the holidays at a mountain lodge in Vermont. Marie, Sandy and Betty Franson were out of town visiting with their families. None of her purely business colleagues were all that close with her.

The brandy decanter beckoned to her, but she resisted that. She would not meet Marie in the morning with her eyes bloodshot and falling out of her head from a hangover. It would just make Marie feel bad for having left her friend alone on the holiday and besides, Jane hated surrendering like that. Quietly, Jane walked to the door, took one last look at the tree and other decorations and then turned off the lights. The door closed behind her with a loud, echoing click.


Jane tried watching television, but everywhere she turned was something that reminded her of what she was trying to forget. "It's a Wonderful Life" was the final blow and she'd turned the television off and tossed the remote across the room. The radio was even worse - every damned station was "Joy to the World"ing or decking the damned halls. She found she couldn't concentrate enough to read or to work.

"Bloody hell." she fumed. "I'm almost to the point of screaming "Bah Humbug" just so Dickens' Christmas Ghosts will pay me a visit. Oh, what the hell. I am going to go take a nap. Maybe I can sleep most of the day away."


The house was dark as a pair of dark clothed figures furtively crept up to the back of the house. "You sure she's here?"

"*SHHH*! Where would she go?"

"Lots of places. She's rich, remember?"

"Even if she is out, we'll get her when she comes back, so lets move in, okay? We're not going to let her get away. Now be quiet and let me work this lock."

"All right. You sure you can do that?"

The back door unlatched and swung open silently on its well oiled hinges. "Okay, lets make sure we know where she is, before we do anything else."

A quick check of the downstairs revealed no sign of life. "Lets check her room." Whispered the shorter of the two. "Be careful of that step. It squeaks."

"Wonder which time you fell down them you found that out." was the amused response.

"Damned heels." was the quick, whispered response. "You wait here, I can move more quietly alone."

Moments later, they were slipping down the stairs. "She's sound asleep."

"Helluva way to spend Christmas - sleeping. And alone, no less."

"Lets get busy. We have a lot to do in the next hour. Help me with this electronic stuff."

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"The techno-wizard at my dad's company said so. Just get it set up right and after that, it works like a computer game with that joystick. Oh, and go unlock the front door before we get started."


Something tickled at Jane's consciousness. Jane stretched and tried to burrow deeper into her covers. She knew it was still Christmas and she did not want to wake up.

(aaannnnnneeeee. Jaaannnnneeee Thommmpsssooon. Wake up, Jane.)

Jane's eyes snapped open at the eerie voice calling her name. Had she been dreaming that?

(Wake up, Jane.) the voice repeated, coming from outside her door.

"Marie?? Is that you??" she managed to ask, her heart beating a mile a minute.

(No, Jane, I am not Marie. I am the Ghost of Christmas and I am here to show you the true meaning of Christmas. Come to me, Jane.)

I don't believe this, Jane thought. And I didn't say bah humbug, dammit. Someone was in her house and she was alone. And her gun was in the study. Jane slipped into her shoes and found her keys before getting a black-iron poker from her bedroom fireplace. Maybe she could get to the garage and her car.

Slowly, she opened the door, poker raised.

(Hello, Jane. You won't need that.) the voice said gently from above her head as she looked out the door.

Jane's head snapped up and she gasped, dropping the poker. A semitransparent shape floated above her - a young male dressed in a red tunic and green leggings.

Finding her voice, Jane managed to squeak "You're a ghost?"

"Indeed. Now, follow me, please." He directed and then began to float towards the stairs.

Not sure what was going on, but no longer feeling threatened, Jane made to follow. "Aren't you supposed to offer me your hand, or tell me to touch your coat so I can fly with you?" she asked flippantly.

"Only for long hops." the voice said cheerily from the head of the stair. "Have to conserve energy these days."

"Oh, all right. But I don't understand why all Christmas spirits have to be male."

"Leave it to you, Jane Thompson, to complain about that. I wasn't planning to do this quite yet. Oh well, the best laid plans of mice, men and ghosts." the spirit sighed. Suddenly, the leggings became red and the tunic became green and lengthened; the shape of the ghost shifted subtly, becoming feminine as did the facial features and hair. "This better?" asked the now very female ghost decked out in a green dress and red stockings.

At Jane's open mouthed nod, the spirit began to float down the stairs. Jane followed her slowly, eyes blinking against the otherwise darkened house.

At the foot of the stairs, the spirit gestured towards Jane's parlor door. "You will wait for me in there," the feminine voice ordered, "While I prepare your Christmas experience."

With that, the spirit disappeared.

Thoroughly bemused, Jane decided to do as directed. She opened the door carefully and slid her hand around the doorjamb to find the light switch. It clicked loudly and the flash of light momentarily blinded her.


The shout almost knocked Jane backwards but she found herself swept up by many hands and pulled into the parlor.

The very *full* parlor.

Jane shook her head, trying to clear her dazzled eyes, not quite willing to believe what she saw.

Her boys. The room was full of her boys, and they had decked themselves out as their feminine alter egos. Each and every one of them looked like one of the cute female "Santa's Helpers" at the mall in red, velvety mini dresses with white fur piping and matching stocking hats. There was Beth(David), Charlene (Charlie), Erica (Eric), Darla (Darryl), Valerie (Eugene) and Joan(John), and . . . . and . .so many others. How in heaven's name did they get here?? Jane's head was spinning and she feared she might do something really silly. . . like faint.

Before Jane could quite form words or decide what to do, she was being passed from one student to another, being thoroughly hugged and kissed at each stop.

Finally, she found herself near the tree and came to a stop. There, kneeling beside some type of computer was . . "Sheldon?? I mean, Trip?"

The winsomely made up face beneath the floppy red 'Santa-hat' looked up from the screen. "Shelly, Aunt Jane." she said as she leapt up into her arms.

Jane pulled back from the hug and saw Sandy and Michelle beaming at the pair of them. "But what? I mean, who? HOW??" she stuttered.

Michelle grinned. "Marie told me you were going to be alone. I was going to come up, but then, I got a better idea. I called the guys in your rogues gallery and asked if they could come here for the day."

"And I," Sandy cut in, "Spent the whole day fixing them up." she snorted inelegantly. "NEEDED the whole damn day, too. Forgot every blessed thing we taught 'em, Jane, the lot of 'em."

"But the ghost, I mean, how did you do that?"

"Holography, Aunt Jane." Shelly answered. "Charlene and I setup a small infrared network with a bunch of holographic projectors around your bedroom and staircase. A few speakers and microphones so that I could carry on a little discussion with you and voila, instant ghost." Shelly's face became mischievous, "I even planned the petticoating of the ghost for you although I did plan to do it myself before you asked for it."

Jane dazedly made a quick head count. More than half of her boys were here - to be with her. "And you all came?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Michelle took Jane's hand. "Well, everyone who could come at such short notice. Some had family commitments they couldn't get out of. Shelly's got a conference call set up for later tonight so those who couldn't come will still be here, at least in spirit. I got everyone airline tickets. Shelly handled those that I couldn't get tickets for by sending her father's company's corporate jet for them."

"You all came." Jane said again, still not quite believing it. "Even Shelly."

Shelly hugged Jane again. "Even me." The very feminine vision went up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Jane's cheek. "Thank you for what you did for me, Aunt Jane." she whispered. "And Merry Christmas."

A piercing whistle cut through the happy babble and made Jane nearly jump into Shelly's arms. She spun to see a grinning Sandy, her fingers still at her lips.

"Okay, you girls. Let's get into the kitchen and get out the good china. Michelle's caterers will be here in a half hour or so, and we need to be ready. I, for one, am HUNGRY! Worked my fingers to the bone on you, today." she complained loudly.

"First things first, Sandy." Michelle interrupted raising her hands high into the air. "Ready everyone??" Instantly every eye in the place focused on Michelle. "Sing!" she ordered giving the down beat.

"For She's a Jolly good Fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow. ."

"Wait-a-minute!" Jane yelled in laughing protest. "I am not any type of fellow!"

Shelly lifted a single finger to Jane's mouth to shush her. "If *you* can make *us* into honorary ladies, then we think *we* can make *you* into an honorary fellow. Right, Girls?"

"RIGHT!!" was the overwhelming response. Followed by "For She's a Jolly Good Fell-ell-low, which NOBODY can deny! YAAAYYYY! Merry Christmas, Aunt Jane!"

The tears she had been fighting all day began to flow, only now they were spurred by joy and not loneliness. With a strength born of love, Jane pulled Shelly and Michelle tightly to her side. "Merry Christmas to all of you, darlings. Thank you for making this the best Christmas of my life."

"Don't thank them yet, Jane." Sandy warned. "You haven't seen the presents yet."

Jane's eyes swept the room one more time, taking in the bright, laughing faces and turned back to Sandy, her lips curled into what felt like a permanent smile. "Oh, but I have, Sandy, and I've never seen their like before."

End of The Christmas Season

If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
82 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 3169 words long.