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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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Part Two

I sit on Jill’s bed, my head in my hands. Her last words are still echoing in my mind, “My mom told yours…”

This can’t get any worse. At least that is what I think until, she adds, “…and they told Barbs’s.”

My head snaps up, “Wait! All three moms know? How do our moms even know Barbs’?”

She sighs, “My mom made me give her Barbs’s number. She wanted to make sure we weren’t going to do anything that would hurt Barbs.”

My face turns bright red, “Gee! I’m so glad that they’re worried about what it might do to me!”

She giggles and says, “Oh! Stop being so dramatic!”

Then she sees that I’m serious and sits down on the bed beside me, “Jimmy, this is your choice. No one is going to make you! Our moms are ok with it—I am as surprised as you—and Mrs. Greeley, Barbs’s mom is, too. They are all surprised that you would be, so it wouldn’t surprise them if you say no. And no one would hold it against you. I just thought you would like to get to know Barbs better—and this seems like the easiest way! That’s all!”

I shake my head and whisper, “Easier for who?”

She gives me a harsh look and asks, “Are you really so afraid of a skirt that you would give up on the chance to get to know Barbs? Maybe I misjudged you, after all!”

She may as well have slapped me! I look down to see if I’m wearing red… Nope! So, I’m not going to die.

I sigh, “No red blouse, though!”

She looks at me like I have lost my mind—then she gets it and giggles. She has known me long enough, after all.

“Promise! So, you’ll do it?” She looks searchingly into my eyes.

I nod and she goes back to her closet before I can change my mind.

I am still wondering how—no, when, all this discussion happened between our mothers. Both Jill’s and my moms work and are never home until well into our study sessions. I finally ask, “So, when did all of this transpire? Mom didn’t say a word to me about it!”

She goes to her dresser, a full uniform in her hand from the closet. She shrugs, “I asked Momma about it last night—after I got Barbs’s permission to tell her about…well, you know…”

I nod. She opens one of her drawers and gets out a clean pair of the knee-high socks that go with the uniform and says, “She was surprised, but thought it could work. She called your Mom at work today and sent me a text at school that your Mom was OK to go along with it—if Barbs and her Mom were. I got it at lunch right before I asked Barbs. Then I asked you after she said she was OK. Her Mom wants to meet you before she signs off on the idea, though.”

I shake my head at the conspiracy going on around me—with me being completely clueless! I can’t believe Dad would go along with this, though. Then I think about my hair and wonder.

Jill breaks into my thoughts by handing me an unopened package of girl’s panties. She says, “Momma insisted that you use a new pair. I happened to have this pack.”

I look at her bug-eyed and stammer, “Why do I need to wear any?”

She gives me a stern look and says, “You’re not going commando under my skirt!” She giggles at the look on my face.

Did I mention she can be a jerk at times—even if she is hot.

She continues, “Look. If you do this, you’re going to have to be a girl to disarm Barbs’s alarms. Now, you may easily pass in looks when we are done, but you clearly are not a girl. Sweet as you are, you are a guy.”

Suddenly, I am feeling better. My manhood is intact. I think.

I look at the panties in my hand and then back at her—the question clear.

She sighs, “You mother actually insisted that if you’re going to do this, it’s all or nothing. Until you learn to act more like a girl, feeling like one might help keep you in line.”

I am sure my eyes are going to pop out of my head. My mother is a traitor!

She shakes her head and says, “Look, Jimmy. We’re running out of time. Just go into my bathroom and put on the panties, then the blouse and the skirt. If you need help—not with the panties—then just let me know. I know that the buttons are smaller than you’re used to—and on the wrong side. The same with the skirt. The button, clasps, and zipper will be backwards to you.”

I shake my head.

I am a guy! No, really!

I keep telling myself that as I open the package of girl’s panties. Now, being a guy, I have never held girl’s panties before. I am surprised at how thin, soft, and stretchy they are. I look at the package and read that these are ‘microfiber bikini briefs’. It is a three-pack in pastel colors: Pink, yellow, and green. They don’t have a waistband like my ‘tighty-whiteys’. According to the package, they are ‘seamless’ and ‘no show’.

I sigh and take the green ones. They are the least girly, it seems. Although, there is no way that I can picture any self-respecting guy ever wearing the light pastel green panties in my hand. I strip down to my birthday suit and hesitate—then step into the panties and pull them up my legs.

I don’t know what to expect really. I figure that some brick will fall out of the sky and hit me in the head for wearing girl’s panties. But, well of course, that doesn’t happen. What surprises me is that I really like how they feel.

I groan! I’m a pervert! I like wearing girl’s panties…

I look at myself in the mirror and am surprised to see how form-fitting they are. I mean they are totally snugged up against my skin—hugging me tightly. But they are so comfortable! Not scratchy like my tight-whiteys. The only weird thing is seeing my little guy poking out in front.

No, I have not held girl’s panties, but I have looked in catalogs online and things.

Did I mention that the puberty fairy was not kind to me? It was more a fly-by sprinkling of puberty dust—and most of that missed. My little guy is, well, little. Even so, it looks funny…

I hear a slight knock on the door and Jill’s voice through it, “Are you OK in there, Jimmy?”

I nod, then blush when I realize she can’t see me. I grunt, “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.

I pick up the white blouse and notice the same thing about it. It is so soft. I think about my softest t-shirt—it is coarse grit sandpaper compared to this. I sigh and struggle with the buttons. Like Jill had warned me—there are many more, they are much smaller, and they are on the wrong side. After I get about half of them buttoned, I start to get the hang of it and fairly quickly button it all the way up.

I then pick up the skirt. It is wool—but so soft. It is also lined with a smooth, silky material. Another issue with my minimal puberty is that I have little body hair—no beard, at all. The smooth silky lining feels like heaven against my legs.

Sprinkling of puberty dust, or not—the one-two effect of the panties and the skirt lining has my little guy growing. I groan and Jill asks, “What’s wrong, Jimmy? Do you need help?”

I sigh and open the door. Even as little as he is, the tent in the skirt is visible and Jill giggles. She says, “Hang on!”

She leaves the room and comes back in a few minutes with an ice bag. She says, “Here, go back in there, hold this on it, and tuck him between your legs, then pull the panties up tight.”

I look at her like she is an alien. She shrugs, “What? I looked it up on the internet. I will show you the site later—there is…more…you will need to do, too… Just not now…”

I take a deep breath and take the bag.

I go back into the bathroom and pull the panties down. Now, let me tell you. If you’ve never iced your little guy, it is not recommended! It doesn’t hurt, per se, but it isn’t comfortable either. To my surprise, he quickly shrinks—even smaller than normal—and I do as Jill had said. I pull him back between my legs—he is almost too small to do so, now—and quickly pull up the panties. Once I am sure he is effectively trapped, I drop the hem of the skirt and go back out to Jill.

I am sure I am walking a little funny—it sure feels funny.

She smiles, “Much better—and a much better solution than Greg would have expected. You are sweet to go along with that!”

I groan inwardly. Then realize I could never ask her to do that. Not Jill—not any girl. I would never ‘expect’ that—nor demand it.

She looks at me and reads the look on my face. She comes over and kisses me on the lips—and not a quick peck. She says, “I am so going to have to reevaluate my relationship with Greg. If you and Barbs don’t work out.”

I blush and she says, “But… I am still pulling for you and her. Now, we have work to do.”

She hands me the pair of stockings. I feel them unconsciously and notice that they are, too, a lot softer than my best socks. I pull them onto my legs and sigh at the soft feel. I feel my little guy struggle a little at his prison. I realize it is not the thrill I have read cross-dressers have at putting on girl’s clothing. He likes the feel! I like the feel…

I am a guy! Right?

Jill is watching me closely and grins. She says, “It’s OK, Jimmy. Our clothes are tons nicer than guys. No one is going to fault you for liking superior clothing. Just remember, though, that the superior clothing belongs to the superior sex!”

She giggles at my sour look.

She hands me a pair of her shoes—she calls them Mary-Janes—and says, “I think these may fit. They are a girl’s seven-and-a-half.”

To both of our surprises, they are about a half to a size too big. Of course, I do have small feet for a guy.

Since I am not going to have to really walk much, the too large shoes are not an issue, but Jill says, “Well, your Momma is going to have to get you proper clothes, anyway. You just won’t be able to borrow any of my shoes.”

I just look at her like she has lost her mind. Then I realize that if I go through with this, that it won’t be just uniforms in the future—however long that may be.

I groan and hold my head in my hands as that firmly sinks in. Jill lifts my head with a gentle hand under my chin. She looks at her nightstand clock and says, “We are losing time, but you are doing fine, Hon. I get this is weird. It is for me, too.”

I startle at her calling me ‘Hon’. She looks at me and realizes it. She says, “Don’t let it go to your head, Hon. It’s a girl-to-girl thing—no, a girlfriend-to-girlfriend thing.”

I sigh.

She smiles. It’s not mocking. She says, “You have a lot to learn, Hon. I will help. Your Momma and mine are there for you, too. Let’s get Barbs’s in the mix, too?”

I look at her in horror. I whisper, “There is so much wrong with that statement, Jill! I’m not a girl! I…I…I…”

She comes over and hugs me—hard. It’s not a girl-boy hug, though—it is just…off. Later on, I come to realize it’s a girl-girl one. She starts brushing out my hair, which is oddly calming and says, “I know, Hon. No, you’re not a girl. But, you are willing to emulate one to help another. That makes you special! No matter that it may come with fringe benefits. You’re an honorary one and you’re a sister at heart!”

I sigh. I’m a guy, dammit! So, why am I wiping this stupid tear out of my eye?

I balk, though. Like ‘pitch a fit’ balk when she reaches for her makeup after brushing my hair to this shiny wondrous ponytail—no matter that it is high on the back of my head and bouncy like a girl’s. Like hers.

“Hang on! No one said anything about makeup!!!” I glare at her in the mirror.

She sighs and looks at the clock on her nightstand. She says, “We only have about fifteen minutes! I am not going to go full-out! Just a little eyeliner and mascara—well, and some lip gloss. It is minimal—like school makeup. It won’t kill you—but it will make the difference between Jimmy in a dress and the girl that wants to help Barbs!”

She doesn’t wait for me to allow it and simply starts applying something with this huge broomstick to my eyes. She seems to be in deep thought, while doing it, though. Not in thought about what she is doing—that is like automatic—it is something else… Finally, after she switches from the broomstick to the broom she says, “I think we need to figure out what to call you… ‘Jimmy’ is obviously not going to get it…”

I sigh.

I sigh again…

I sigh once more and she finishes my eyes, then starts putting this crap on my lips with a kitchen mop…

When she is done, I look at myself in the mirror and nearly crap in my panties.

I LOOK LIKE A GIRL!

A…cute girl!

She asks, “See what I mean? How about…Ginny?”

I shake my head…

“That is too close to Jimmy. I don’t want anything close to the real me… Mom once told me that she would have named me Christine—of course after the nurse on Star Trek—if I had been born a girl. Maybe we should go with that?”

She smiles, “OK, Chrissy it is!”

I groan—now I have a girl’s nickname!

She asks, “What do you think?”

I sigh and say, “It scares me to admit what I think!”

She smiles and hugs me, “Come on, Chrissy. They will be here any minute!”

And she takes me by the hand and pulls me down the steps to the kitchen.

---

She pulls me into the kitchen at a full run. I am doing my best not to trip in the too-big shoes and I nearly croak when we almost literally run into Mrs. Holiday.

She says, “Slow down, girls!”

Then she does a double-take when she realizes who I am.

Jill asks, “Do you think…she…will do, Momma? I don’t have time to change anything. Mrs. Greeley will be here with Barbs any moment!

She shakes her head in wonder, “I can’t believe it! To be honest, if I didn’t know… So, Jimmy, are you sure you want to do this? I came home early and promised your Momma that I would make sure you are OK…”

Jill says, “Momma…”

She cuts her off, “Quiet, Jill! I want to hear this from, Jimmy!”

I sigh, “I have no idea, to be honest, Mrs. Holiday. It’s happened all so fast. All I know is that when I am dressed like this, please call me…Chrissy. And you will be one of the first to know when this gets too much to handle. Right now I am too numb to know…”

She nods and says, “OK, then,…Chrissy. Mrs. Greeley just called a bit ago and they should be here in about five minutes. If she is OK with Barbara staying, then I will be in the living room while you study. If any of you have a problem with what is going on, you just have to let me know. OK?”

Both Jill and I nod. I think I am more earnest, though.

I jump when the doorbell rings. Jill hugs me and goes to the front door to answer it. Mrs. Holiday smiles at me and asks, “Are you sure you’re OK with this, …Chrissy? You can slip upstairs—no harm, no foul!”

I shake my head and say, “Thank you, Mrs. Holiday. But I have come this far. I think I need to give it a chance. Just stay close… I feel like I am wearing red!”

She gives me a really funny look. Of course, she has no idea what I am talking about—and I don’t have a chance to explain, because Jill comes in with Barbie and her Mom right at that moment.

I fade back behind Mrs. Holiday as Jill makes introductions—until Jill says, “And this is… Chrissy, Hon, come meet Mrs. Greeley. Well, and Barbs, since you haven’t met, yet, either.”

I sigh and step out from behind Jill’s mom and shyly say, “Hi. It’s very nice to meet both of you.”

Mrs. Greeley’s eyebrows suddenly disappear behind her bangs. She asks incredulously, “This is…the ummm…boy we are talking about? Jimmy?”

Jill says, “Well, for now, this is Chrissy. But, yes, normally we would be talking about Jimmy.”

She shakes her head and looks straight at me, “Are you OK with this, Hon? No one is coercing you, right?”

I smile at being called ‘Hon’. I now know that is…a definite term of endearment among females. I shake my head, “No Ma’am, no one is coercing me. I can’t say I am OK, but time will tell on that one. I want to give this an honest effort for your daughter, though.”

I figure honesty is the best policy, right now.

She nods. She seems satisfied and looks at Mrs. Holiday, “OK, Betty. Thank you for looking out for them. Please let me know if you need me?”

Mrs. Holiday nods and says, “Of course, Grace. I will have Barbara ready for you to pick up at eight—after dinner—assuming we make it that far.”

She smiles and Jill shows her to the door.

I stand there stunned. Dinner?

Mrs. Holiday says, “Ummm…Chrissy… You know where everything is, so I am going to rely on you to help Jill be hostess. I will order pizza around six. Mr. Holiday is on a business trip and won’t be here, but your Momma is coming over to eat with us girls. Is that OK?”

I want to die. I really do. I look down to make sure I am not wearing red. Of course, I’m not.

I look at a scared Barbie and steel my resolve. I say, “Yes, that’s fine Mrs. Holiday. Barbie, would you like a Diet Pepsi? I think that is what you were drinking yesterday?”

She nods, “Yes, …Chrissy. I would love a Diet. Thanks, …Hon!” She looks at Mrs. Holiday and says, “Mrs. Holiday, please call me Barbie—only my Mother calls me Barbara”.

I smile and grab a can from the fridge. I hand it to her and we sit down as Jill comes back in and Mrs. Holiday nods to Barbie in acknowledgement and gives us a final look before going into the living room. We all quietly pull out our books. I mean it is weird. I am sitting here in a girl’s uniform and I see my long, thick eyelashes flutter every time I blink. I also taste the cherry flavor of the lip gloss when I sip my drink—and see the outline of my lips on the can when I set it down.

Jill acts like everything is normal.

Barbie just looks at me and shakes her head. Finally, she says, “Ji… Chrissy, I really appreciate what you’re doing here. But, you don’t have to do this for me. You and Jill have been friends for too long to let me get between you and mess up your studying! I can just go home…”

I shake my head and point at a problem that I actually know the answer to, but ask, “So, how do we solve this one? I’m not sure…”

Jill smiles. She knows very well that I know the answer. She just asks, “Barbs, can you explain it? I’m not sure I know, either.”

She just looks at both of and her eyes call ‘bull’, but she shrugs and explains how to solve the problem.

After what seems like just minutes, we all look up in surprise when Mrs. Holiday comes in and asks, “Are you girls about ready to order pizza?”

I look at the clock and see it is nearly six. I’m stunned! I hadn’t thought about being dressed as a girl for over an hour.

No! I’m a guy! Really!

Barbs reaches over and grabs my hand and whispers, “Thank you, Chrissy!”

I just smile.

Jill says, “Yes, Momma! I’m starved!”

She smiles and picks up her phone.

The doorbell rings and Jill says, “Chrissy, that has to be your Momma. Do you want to get it—or should I?”

I blanche. Barbs looks at me and says, “You’ve got this, right, Chrissy?”

I hesitate and nod when she squeezes my hands. I get up—expecting to meet my doom. I check again to make sure I am not wearing red…

And open the door.

Mom is standing there in the cold and says, “Thank you, … Jimmy…?”

I say, “You should probably come in, Mom, so I can close the door…”

She smiles and comes in—in as much shock as I am. She says, “I would never have known… If I didn’t already…”

Mrs. Holiday comes into the hallway and says, “Oh, Hi Cindy! I see you have met your daughter, … Chrissy.”

She looks at me and the light dawns in her eyes, “Chrissy as in Christine? Christine Chapel?”

I feel my face burn red and nod.

Mrs. Holiday looks at us both, confused. Then she smiles, “Red! I get it. OK. So, I’m not a Trekkie, but I do know the basics! Anyway, come in and let’s talk about where this goes from here. The pizza should be here in about twenty minutes!”

Mom follows us in, still stunned. By now, I am beyond embarrassment. At least for now. I sweep my skirt—as Jill and Barbs both admonished me every time I had gotten up and sat back down—and sit down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.

Mom just shakes her head and takes a seat—as does Mrs. Holiday.

We pack away our things and Mom looks at the three of us and says, “OK, spill. How did it go?”

Jill pipes up, “I think I’m ready for the test tomorrow!”

Barbs nods, “Me, too! We were a little behind at my old school from where we’re at here, but I feel really good about it, now!”

I just shrug and nod, “Me too.”

So, sue me! I am a guy!

Mrs. Holiday and mom both look at us in exasperation. Mrs. Holiday says, “I don’t think that is what Mrs. Alexander meant!”

She is shaking her head, “I’m glad you’re all ready for the test, tomorrow. That is certainly important! But…how did it go?”

Jill giggles and says, “It was just us three peeps studying. We did great! Right, girls?”

Barbs nods emphatically and says, “I haven’t had a study session this good since third grade!”

I just turn red and quietly nod.

At that moment, the doorbell rings and Mrs. Holiday goes to pay for the pizza. She returns with two medium pizzas, one all vegetable, and one with pepperoni. I am a little shocked. I can almost eat a medium by myself.

That is when I learn that girls don’t eat like ‘pigs’.

But, I am a guy! No, really!

I take a piece of pizza and the side salad that Mrs. Holiday also had ordered for each of us. I quietly chew on a bite of salad and Mom shakes her head, “Chrissy, you need to take smaller bites, Hon!”

I look down at my piece of pizza and the bite taken out of it and compare it to everyone else’s. Mine is twice the size. I hold my tongue, though. This isn’t the place to complain. After that, I pay attention and takes smaller bites—nibbles really—and chew them to death. I am totally surprised when I’m actually pretty full after the one piece of pizza and the salad.

It’s a good thing because Mrs. Holiday puts the rest in the fridge and then looks at us again. I guess it was too quiet for her. It was really quiet while we were eating—like no one knew what to say.

She sighs and says, “OK, I can tell Jill is OK with all of this…”

The doorbell rings and she looks up at the clock. She shakes her head and goes to let Mrs. Greeley in. When they come back into the kitchen, she is asking, “…still a lot left if you would like some?”

Mrs. Greeley looks at us and says, “Hi, Cindy. Hi girls. No thanks, Betty, I just ate a bit ago.”

She sits down at the counter and Mom says, “You’re just in time, Grace—the girls were just getting ready to talk about how it all went. So far, they’ve been very noncommittal. So, we’ve established that Jill is OK with it all—but, then, she has the least to gain or lose. Ji…errr…Chrissy? Do you intend to continue this?”

I sigh and look at Jill—her face is full of hope. I then look at Barbs—hers seems to be full of hope, too. I sigh again. To say I am conflicted would be a huge understatement. I slowly nod and say, “Yes, I’m up on giving this some more time. It’s weird for me, but we did have a good study session and I, well, I had fun, too.”

OK, so I am a guy—but it’s nice to have friends, too.

Mrs. Greeley looks at Barbs and asks, “Barbara? This was OK for you? You didn’t have any panic attacks? Do you want to keep going with this?”

She nods without hesitation, “None here, Momma—just a couple at school. Here, it was just a fun afternoon. We studied hard, but it didn’t seem like it. I made up a lot of ground in algebra today!”

Mrs. Greeley smiles and nods, “OK, then! Cindy, Betty, how do we best coordinate this? We don’t live that far away, but it isn’t really walking distance.”

Mom says, “How about Barbie rides the bus home with Jill—then everyone can meet either here or at our house to study like Jill and Jimmy used to—only after Chrissy…err…is ready? Then you can either pick Barbie up, or one of us can drive her home?”

Both Mrs. Greeley and Mrs. Holiday are nodding and Mrs. Greeley says, “Yes, that would work, I think.”

Jill says, “You can leave some after-school clothes here to change into, Barbs. That way we’ll be more comfy for studying.”

Mom clears her throat and says, “I guess that means that Chrissy and I are going to have to go shopping this weekend to get her some comfy clothes.”

Jill giggles and asks, “Can I go, too? I would love too!”

To everyone’s surprise, Barbs speaks up, “Oh! Me too! May I?”

I am slowly sliding out of my chair and disappearing under the counter. Shopping? For girl’s stuff? With two of the hottest girls in school?

Mom answers for me, “Of course! I’m sure Chrissy would love that, wouldn’t you, Hon?”

Wait--as a girl?

I ask, “You mean go shopping as Chrissy? Seriously?”

I see three adult women and two girls all nodding at me, looking at me like I’m some sort of idiot.

Mom says, “How else are we going to get you the proper things? It’s settled. We’ll go to the mall first thing after school tomorrow! That way it will be less conspicuous that Chrissy is in a school uniform. Betty, can we borrow this one for a bit longer? Grace, we’ll drop Barbie off at home when we’re done. Is that OK?”

Mrs. Holiday quickly agrees to me keeping the spare uniform and Mrs. Greeley nods. Suddenly we are all moving towards the door. Jill gives me a hug goodbye. The same type of hug she gives Barbs—and the same type of hug she gives her ‘peeps’ at school. To my surprise, Barbs gives me one, too. I hug them both back—awkwardly.

Then Mom and I walk home and hurry in out of the cold. I am still dressed as Chrissy and I get my first taste of cold air and skirts. I am complaining to a smiling Mom when Dad pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Jimmy? Is that really you?”

Mom smiles at him and says, “Honey, meet your daughter, Christine—Chrissy for short. You will be seeing a lot more of her, it seems.”

He shakes his head and asks, “Are you OK with this sport—I mean really OK?”

I look at him and blow out my breath. I say, “It’s really weird, Dad, but I will give a try. Jill, Barbs, and I studied really well today and Barbs didn’t have any panic attacks the whole time we were studying, like she probably would have had if I been there as, well me. I…ummm…like her, Dad.”

I blush.

He winks and says, “Well, it’s your dignity. Just remember that you can stop this anytime you want, OK?”

I nod and Mom says, “Chrissy, the girls, and I are going shopping after school tomorrow. We will eat out, so you’re on your own, OK?”

He rolls his eyes and looks at me in sympathy. He just says, “Yes, Dear. I will be fine. You…girls…have fun.”

Mom then takes me upstairs and shows me how to clean off the makeup, properly wash my face, and then moisturize and put all this other…stuff…on it to keep my skin ‘looking good’.

I drop into bed dead tired, but pull up the website that Jill insists I check out. My eyes bug out of their sockets and fall on the bed when I see what she wants me to do!

Well, not really—but they should, since I want to gouge them out. I have trouble sleeping even just thinking about it.

---

I ace the algebra test—I have no doubt that I have everything right. I notice Jill and Barbs hugging as we leave the classroom and Jill gives me a thumbs-up and a broad smile.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly—and then the final bell rings. I get on the bus to ride home with a sense of impending doom. I notice Jill get on the bus, Barbs right behind her. They both smile at me as they pass by me to sit with the posse. Jill winks at me and I can’t help but blush.

Twenty minutes later, the three of us get off at our stop and they go to Jill’s while I go to my house. I go in the front door and—even though I know she is home—am still surprised to find Mom home. She took off early—special for our shopping trip.

She peeks out of the kitchen and smiles, “Go on up and get changed into the other uniform, Hon. I want to leave as soon as we can. Jill said she and Barbie—Barbs, as she calls her—will be right over. Jill will help you with your makeup, but you’re going to have to learn to do your own, you know.”

I blush and hurry upstairs.

I take off my uniform, hang up the coat and tie, and put the rest in the dirty clothes hamper. I stand there in my panties and blush. I don’t know why, but I had worn the yellow pair to school today; Jill had insisted I just keep the whole three-pack. There was basically zero chance of anyone finding out—and they just feel so good. I couldn’t help myself.

I sigh and take Jill’s spare uniform out of my closet, where I had carefully hung it up last night at Mom’s insistence. I put it on, more quickly this time, since I have a better idea of what I’m doing.

I tuck my little guy before I put the skirt on.

I follow the ‘extra’ instructions from the site that I had visited last night, but only after standing there and staring at myself for several minutes. Finally—I don’t know where the courage (or is it stupidity?) comes from—I lay down on my bed and give my guys the little push the site instructed me to. Having my little balls disappear up inside me is really scary—and feels strange. But when I move around, I have to admit that it’s more comfortable than having them squished up by my little guy between my legs.

I pull my panties…

OK, OK, yes, I said my panties. I am a guy, though. Really!

I pull my panties up tight to hold everything in and do some squats in the skirt. I find that I can move reasonably well. I put on the stockings and then the shoes. I am just finishing tying them when I hear Mom call me downstairs. Jill and Barbs are here. Of course, they got to change out of their uniforms.

I go downstairs and sit at our kitchen island while Jill first brushes my hair back into a tight, high ponytail, then puts some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss on my face.

Once I am, once again, Chrissy, Mom leads us to her car and drives us to the mall. I want to slide down into the floorboard, but Jill and Barbs just keep correcting me—making me sit up straight and with my legs together. Sitting there like that, I have to say that it is more comfortable with my little balls hidden away, rather than all squished.

I just keep saying, “I can’t believe I’m going to the mall like this—especially on a Friday after school!”

Jill is sitting in back with me and squeezes my bare knee and says, “Relax, girl! We’ve got you covered. Just remember to stand up straight, keep your shoulders back, and your chest out! OMG! Mrs. Alexander, we need to do something about her chest!”

Mom just looks in the mirror and nods with a smile. I can’t help but notice the smirk on Barbs’ face in the mirror—she is sitting up front with Mom.

I groan when Mom parks and it’s time to get out. Jill insists on showing me how to get out in the skirt and I follow her lead, so that I don’t flash anything to the world. The skirts are actually kind of short for a school uniform—I had never paid attention until I had to make sure my panties aren’t visible to the world. Or my legs are freezing in the cold!

We walk into the mall and I have to be careful not to slip out of the shoes. Mom frowns and says, “We need to find you something basic to wear and some shoes that fit before we get serious.” I look at Jill and Barbs. They are wearing jeans and warm sweaters. I am envious of them.

Mom leads us to Macon’s, one of the mall’s anchor department stores. She goes straight to the girl’s junior department—just like she had been here a million times. Of course, no one has any clue what size I need, so Jill just picks up several pairs of jeans and pulls me to the changing rooms. I start to balk about going into the girl’s changing rooms, but Mom hisses in my ear, “Chrissy! Stop acting like a brat! You’re a girl here, remember?”

I sigh and let Jill lead me into the forbidden zone. To my surprise, it is not full of naked girls—it’s just like the boy’s. Jill pushes me into a cubicle and closes the door behind me. She says, “When you think you have the right size come out here in them.”

I sigh and look at the stack of girl’s jeans she had thrust in my arms. They are all ‘low-rise, skinny’ jeans that are highly decorated in girly fashion—from size four to size eight. The first thing I notice is that, like the clothes I have on, these are way softer than my jeans. They are also stretchy. I have seen some of the newer guy’s jeans that have some stretch to them, but they are still nowhere near as soft and stretchy as these.

I sigh and take off the skirt and the stockings, then pull up the pair of size sixes. I figure why not start in the middle? They feel pretty good. Well, for girl’s jeans, I guess. They sit really low on my waist and the zipper is like non-existent. And why even have these ‘pockets’? They also are way too short; they stop a couple of inches above my ankles.

I shrug and open the door. I step out to a waiting Jill and say, “I guess these are OK?”

She shakes her head and says, “Hon, those are way too big! They’re skinny jeans. They’re supposed to be skin-tight! Those are the sixes? Girl! I hate you! Try on the fours while I go grab some twos.”

I come out a little later with the fours on. They’re tighter, but not as tight as she wants. She sends me in with the twos and declares them a fit after I try them on.

She pulls me out onto the main floor and Barbs nods. Mom just looks and says, “Well, they’re the proper size. They’re not my style, but then again, I’m not a teenager. So, you’re a size two? I think I hate you!”

I look at her flustered and Barbs is nodding in agreement.

She hands me a really soft, really warm-feeling, really pink sweater and says, “Take off that blouse and put this on. It’s an extra-small and should fit you fine, since you’re a two!”

I shake my head and go back into the changing room and exchange my blouse—I freak out when I think of it as my blouse. I correct myself. I exchange Jill’s blouse for the sweater. It feels like heaven on my skin. It’s an ugly pale pink, but it feels great!

Jill says, “Grab your uniform and bring it out with you. Leave those on.”

I do as she says and Mom leads me to one of those registers that are sprinkled throughout the store. She smiles at the young girl at the register, “My daughter would like to just wear these out. Is that OK?”

The girl smiles back, “Oh! Totes! Just let me take the tags and scan them.”

She takes the tags off of the jeans and the sweater as I stand there barefoot in the now, even bigger shoes. Mom pays and we move to the shoe department. She says, “Normally, I wouldn’t look for shoes here, but this is an emergency.”

Barbs is looking through a table of clearance shoes and pulls out a pair, “Oh! Look at these cute ballet flats!”

They are similar to the ones she has on, only hers are black and these are a dark pink.

She says, “They’re a size six-and-a-half. Chrissy, see if they fit. They’d be perfect for shopping and they’re a steal at this price—if they fit. They may be too small…”

I sigh and ask, “Don’t I need socks, or something?”

Barbs and Jill giggle. Both point at their own bare feet, clad in similar ‘flats’.

I shrug and step out of the school shoes and slip on the left shoe that Barbs holds out to me. It fits perfectly—as does the right one.

Barbs giggles and says, “Well, it seems you’re a six-and-a-half, narrow! You’re lucky—that’s why you were able to get these! No one else can wear them!”

Mom agrees that they are ‘perfect’ and we exit the store back into the main mall after she pays for them. I am carrying a Macon’s bag with the school uniform and shoes in it. While I am happy to be out of the skirt and to have shoes that are not flopping off my feet, I feel just as weird wearing what I am.

Mom says, “OK, girls. I usually shop from the inside out. How about you?”

Barbs asks, “Is there any other way?”

Jill agrees with a giggle, “VS?”

Mom nods and takes off like a woman on a mission.

It’s weird, really. She makes a beeline for the store, letting nothing stop her progress, but once she gets in, there is no hurry, what-so-ever! Of course, it took all three of them to get me into the forbidden flagship of femininity.

I want to die when she tells the hot girl that comes up to us, “Hi! My daughter here is in need of a fitting for some help disguising the fact that she is a bit behind in her bust development.”

The girl looks at me and says, “Sure! My name’s Chloe—I had the same issue and know just how you feel…?”

I miss the cue and Jill says, “This is my BFF, Chrissy—and this is my other, Barbs. Chrissy is way shy about this, so we came along to support her!”

Chloe giggles, “Well, we have other support here for her, too! Let’s get her measured. Come in back with me, Chrissy, and take off your top. Are you wearing a bra at all, right now?”

She is already walking towards the back, clearly expecting me to follow. Jill gives me a little push and I follow her. When I go through the curtain, she is just standing there—clearly waiting for me to answer; and take off my top.

I say, “No…no bra. I don’t need one…” I sigh and pull off the sweater.

She smiles and says, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hon. Some girls are just late bloomers. Like I said, I’m one. But we have some nice solutions here.”

She has me hold up my arms and takes some measurements, then disappears back out front for a minute. She comes back with a handful of bras—all pink. She says, “You seem to like pink. These are from our ‘Pink’ line, not that everything in that line is!” She giggles and chatters on without seeming to take a breath, “You’re a 22-AAA, at the moment. These are all 22-AAs with cup-enhancers. They all give you the appearance of an extra two cup sizes, putting you at a B. You will still need some small silicone enhancers to make up the difference from AAA to AA, but it gives you some room to grow.”

I understand exactly zero—if not less—of what she is saying.

My mind is numb and I am having crazy thoughts after studying algebra all week. Solve for ‘x’: AAA + AA = xB

She takes one—it is pink like all of them and has a lot of lace on it. She says, “This is one of our most popular push-up enhancement bras. It makes a girl feel really sexy. Here, try it on.”

She pushes the bra into my hand and I just stand there, dumbfounded, staring at it.

After a minute, she exclaims, “Oh, you poor doll! You don’t know how! Duh! No need to be embarrassed. Here let me help. Soon enough, it will be second nature. Here, put your arms through here…”

She holds it up and I numbly put my arms through the holes—what else am I supposed to do? Make some sort of a scene?

She rambles on, “Now, with time, you’ll be able to clasp and unclasp it behind your back. In the beginning, it’s usually easier to clasp it in front and the spin it around and put your arms through the straps. I would suggest practicing unclasping it in back from the beginning, though…”

She has it clasped and is tightening the little buckle-thingies on the straps. She says, “Oh, with a new bra, you also want to clasp it at the very end, then you can tighten it to the inner clasps later, when the elastic starts stretching. I measured it for you to be able to.”

I look around for a universal translator, but, of course, there is none to be had.

She takes these cold blobs—that look like a little like chicken breasts—and inserts them into the cups and says, “There! Perfect! Now put that darling sweater back on and we’ll see how much better you look!”

I am just staring at myself in the mirror—standing there in girls jeans and a bra. I look like a girl standing there in her jeans and bra. I shake my head and take the sweater. I just now notice that it has an hour-glass shape of its own. I had, of course, already noticed the v-neck. But when I put it on and it settles into my new ‘curves’, I totally look like a girl!

‘Jimmy’ is gone—Hello, ‘Chrissy’!

I’m a guy…right?

She lets out a little scream and claps, “Perfect! You look darling! Come on! Let’s go show your Mom and your peeps.”

I feel my face burn red as she leads me back out into the store.

Jill sees me and lets out a little scream. She jumps up and down and claps. My face gets even redder at the attention she is calling to us in the semi-crowded store.

Mom just smiles and nods her head.

Barbs? Well, she comes over and gives me a girly hug—but, maybe with a bit more oomph than normal—and whispers in my ear, “Thanks for doing this, Chrissy. I really do want to get to know, well…you…better. I think we’re going to be the best of friends!”

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