Undercover Girl - Chapter 2

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Undercover Girl
By Katherine Day
(Hired as the only man among a group of social workers, he becomes one of the girls and is faced with life-and-death consequences.)

Chapter Two – A New Social Life 

Having settled into a routine over the next few months, Marcus was becoming comfortable in his job, having largely won acceptance by the families he served. The Wednesday outings continued as a “girls’ night out” affair, complete with innocent flirtations with some of the men in the place. Marcus found he giggled along in the fun, not realizing that he was growing more feminine in his mannerisms.

“You said you liked jazz, didn’t you Marcus?” Amy asked on a Friday, as the two were winding up paperwork in the office. 
 
“Yes, and I know you do too,” he replied. 
 
“There’s a jazz festival at Riverside Park Saturday,” she said.  “Would you like to go?  I’ve got an extra ticket in the reserved section up front.” 
 
“Me?” 
 
“Sure, why not?  None of my other friends are free that day, and if you’re interested, come along.  It should be a nice day.” 
 
Marcus accepted the invitation.  He wondered whether there was more to the invitation than what appeared: was she interested in him as a boyfriend?  It hardly seemed likely, since Amy was nearly ten years older than he was; also, he never considered himself as being the kind of young man who would attract female admirers.  He certainly wasn’t a “hunk.”  He had wondered briefly whether there might have been some sparks developing between the two, since he sensed that Amy genuinely liked him, as he did her.  He always dismissed such feelings as being unrealistic, since Amy was not only his senior in years but also his senior on the job structure.  Nonetheless, he was pleased to accept the invitation, as he truly was lonely, having been separated from his mother since accepting the job.  Even during his years at the State University, he had returned home nearly every weekend to be with his mother. He had found no close friends in his young life. 
 
Amy picked up Marcus at his apartment Saturday; she drove an older model Chevrolet Cruze that appeared to be kept clean and in good working shape.  (Earlier she had told Marcus that her father ran an auto repair business and that she had become quite involved in auto repair.  “I work on this car myself,” she had told him; he had to admit that he was totally at a loss when it came to automobiles.) 
 
The day was to be hot and humid and Marcus wore only sandals, a pair of beige shorts and a blue polo shirt; he tied his hair in a ponytail in an attempt to stay cool.  Amy seemed years younger than her 33 years, wearing a colorful knee-length print skirt and a tank top that matched the same blue of Marcus’ shirt and flattered her husky figure.  She tied her brunette hair into two high pigtails and put on lipstick, eyeliner and facial color.  
 
She looked amazingly fetching, Marcus thought, hardly the dowdy social worker image she showed on the job. 
 
“Wow,” he said, getting into her car.  “You’re lovely, Amy.” 
 
***** 
Amy and Marcus both learned quickly that each favored more traditional jazz, that of the bebop era of Miles Davis and John Coltrane; after hearing an incredibly talented local jazz group perform pieces like “All Blue” and “Lazy Bird,” the two walked away from the musical area as a more modern group that specialized in electronic jazz was due to perform. 
 
“I don’t like that electronic stuff,” Amy said at the break. 
 
“I don’t either.  Care to find a beer somewhere?” 
 
They found a relatively quiet location and an empty picnic table and settled down with their cups of beer and a serving of nachos.  It was peaceful and Marcus felt warmly comforted in the company of the older woman.  He had been surprised at how cute and lovely his co-worker looked that day; yet, he felt no sexual yearning for her.  Instead, he found himself wishing he too could be wearing the same casual outfit, his hair fixed into pixie-like bangs and as looking cute as Amy did that afternoon. 
 
“What are you thinking, Marcus?” Amy said, having sensed the young man’s pensiveness. 
 
“Nothing, my mind was just wandering, I guess,” he said. 
 
Amy examined her friend closely; she also admired how handsome Marcus was, but then re-examined her thoughts.  No, he was more than handsome.  He was pretty; yes, definitely pretty.  His lips were thin but were formed in a girlish pout and his face appeared smooth as if he never had to shave.   
 
The two friends said nothing for a few moments and continued to look at each other.  “A penny for your thoughts, Amy.” 
 
“No, you first, Marcus.  I know you have something on your mind.” 
 
“It’s nothing,” he said. 
 
“Come on.” 
 
Marcus didn’t want to confess to Amy that he was wondering about how he’d look as a girl.  He felt she’d be disappointed, since he pondered whether she might have hoped he might be looking at her as a potential lover and girlfriend.  He knew Amy had not had a regular boyfriend for several years, and might be interested in him, in spite of his age and lack of apparent virile masculinity. 
 
“Well, if you must know, I was just wondering how it was to have a guy working in your section, since I’m the first ever,” he lied, hoping to avoid telling her his true thoughts. 
 
“We’re all glad to have you there,” she said honestly.  “We know we should have more men involved in social work, since we need to know how to deal with men, too.” 
 
“Oh, I’ve been told I’m doing women’s work, but the strange thing is I enjoy it,” Marcus admitted. 
 
“You seem to be a natural at it.” 
 
“Now you.  Your thoughts, Amy?” 
 
“You want me to be honest, Marcus, even if you might be offended?” she asked. 
 
“Be offended?” 
 
“Well, maybe you would or maybe you wouldn’t,” Amy began. 
 
He nodded, signaling her to go ahead. 
 
“I was just thinking how pretty you are Marcus,” she said. 
 
He blushed.  It was as if Amy had read his mind.  He then smiled and his eyes began to tear up; her observation warmed his heart.  He looked back at his friend, hoping he could confide Amy as a friend, not as a subordinate worker at the agency. 
 
“Did that bother you Marcus?  Boys don’t like to be told they’re pretty.” 
 
“Thank you, Amy,” he responded, not directly answering her question. 
 
She let out a sigh of relief, pleased that she hadn’t hurt his feelings; he apparently liked being identified with the feminine description of being pretty, she concluded. 
 
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked finally. 
 
“Probably, unless you’re going to tell me you’re a murderer or something.” 
 
He laughed.  “No, nothing like that.” 
 
“Well?” 
 
“I was wishing I could be dressed in your clothes and looking like a cute girl.  There I said it.”  
 
Amy merely smiled and nodded in agreement. 
 
“You would look like a cute girl, Marcus.  You’ve got all the features,” she said. 
 
Amy raised her partially filled cup of beer, beckoning Marcus to do the same.  She smiled at him and proclaimed: “To the prettiest girl at the jazz festival.” 
 
They followed the toast with a sip of their beer.  For Marcus, it was the best tasting beer he’d ever had. 

***** 
“All of us have wondered about you, Marcus,” Amy said, referring to their Wednesday night friends, Latesha and Mollie.  She spoke as she drove Marcus home after the jazz festival.  “We agreed that you have a pretty face.” 
 
“Amy, I don’t know how to feel about that, but I can’t really argue with them on it, I guess.  I feel ashamed I’m not manly.” 
 
“Don’t be, Marcus,” she said.  “Nothing wrong with a pretty face, and we all like you as you are.” 
 
“You know, I play with my hair sometimes in front of the mirror as if I was a girl,” he confessed. 
 
“That’s so cute,” Amy gushed.  “I’d love to see you in a dress.”

“Never,” he said, quickly, his face suddenly becoming flush.

“Oh, come on. You’d be a beauty. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

Marcus hesitated in answering, but finally confessed, “Maybe a little.”

“Oh, Marcus, I shouldn’t be bringing this up,” Amy apologized. “You’re a friend, even more than being a co-worker. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“That’s all right, Amy.”
 
The truth was that Marcus had often thought that he should have been born female. The memory of the time when he was nine and dressed in his cousin Colleen’s outfit lingered on his child’s mind and in the fifth grade he started hanging around three girls in his class. Recently, he had realized that he was being judged as a girl, largely because of his longish hair that his mother had fashioned with cute bangs across his forehead.

The two were silent for the rest of the drive and Marcus began pondering whether he should tell Amy more about himself. He felt desperate to share his secret longing to be a pretty woman, feelings he had hidden from everyone, including his mother. Should he confess the feelings to Amy who, he felt, had become the first close friend he’d ever had? They had known each other for about two months, since he hired on at Opportunities, Inc., and she was also his supervisor. He felt he could trust her and he hoped he was right.

“Here we are, and there’s even a place to park. It’s our lucky day,” Amy said, as she stopped in front of Marcus’ apartment building. Parking in the area was always difficult.

“Amy, I think I must tell you something,” Marcus said, staying seated in the car even after Amy had pulled it to the curb and stopped.

“What’s that?”

“I . . . ah . . . sometimes feel I am a girl . . . or, I guess, a woman,” he stammered. “Does that make me a pervert or something?”

Amy smiled and reached over to put a hand on his forearm. “No, Marcus. You’re no pervert. Many men have such desires, I understand.”

“I feel embarrassed by that and that I’m not much of a man.”

“I think you’re special,” she said, leaning over to give him a brief kiss on his cheek.

“Do you think I’d look nice in a dress?” he asked, blushing freely now.

“The prettiest,” Amy said. “I think the other girls would like to know about all this, Marcus,” Amy said.  “What do you think?” 
 
“Won’t they laugh at me?” 
 
“No, ‘cause they like you.  You don’t have to be a macho guy,” she said.  
 
He reluctantly agreed to Amy sharing his secret with Latesha and Mollie, especially when she’d approach each girl with the information obliquely, not telling Marcus’ full story until knowing they’d view it positively.  Little did he know where that would lead.
 
***** 
The next day – a Sunday – Amy called Marcus about noontime.  It was a warm, humid day, but Marcus had turned off the noisy, ancient window air conditioner and opened the two large windows in his tiny apartment.  He was seated on an old loveseat – the only place comfortable enough to read – wearing only extremely short shorts and curled up with the book review section of the New York Times.  (One of his few luxuries in life was to buy the Times’ Sunday paper.) 
 
A single fan struggled to keep him cool, but tiny beads of sweat gathered in his smooth armpits; he shaved them occasionally, even though the light blonde hair hardly showed.   
 
His cell phone rang and almost before he finished saying “hello,” Amy’s voice excitedly burst into his ear, “Marcus, all of us thinks it’s cool.”
 
“What?”   
 
“That you like the idea of being pretty like a girl.  What are you doing this afternoon?” 
 
“Why?” 
 
“Well, we’re doing nothing and thought we’d like to dress you up today and see how pretty you could be,” she said. 
 
“Are you serious?  I said nothing about wanting to be fully dressed like a girl.  I just fantasized about it.  That’s all.” 
 
“It doesn’t matter,” Amy replied.  “We’re all bored today and think it’d be fun.  Just this once.” 
 
Marcus found the idea both frightening and tempting.  Dammit!  He was a boy and it was wrong to submit to some crazy desire to dress like a woman.  Yet, he felt flattered, convinced in his own mind that he would indeed be a lovely looking young woman. 
 
“Well, what do you think?” Amy pressed, as Marcus had remained silent.  “Mollie’s got a great, air-conditioned apartment and you know she once worked as a hairdresser and I’m sure she’ll do wonders with your hair.  And Latesha is about your size in clothes and she’s already found a couple of outfits in her closet that she thinks would look great on you.  And you know how fussy she is about her fashions.” 
 
“Let me think about it and I’ll call you back,” he said, trying to avoid making a decision. 
 
“No, Marcus, tell me now since we all need time to get ready, besides what harm is there in it?  It’ll just be us.  No one else need know.” 
 
Marcus finally gave in. 
 
Hanging up the phone, he hurried excitedly into his tiny bathroom with its makeshift shower.  After the shower, he ran a razor across the middle of his chest, his arms up to the armpit and his legs, trying to grab the few errant strands of hair.  He massaged his skin with lotion, as he did almost daily; he loved having his skin soft and smooth. 
 
As he did so, he imagined himself looking like a delicate slender girl; the images were so vivid in his mind that he was unaware that his smallish penis had grown erect and was throbbing with pain, needing to be relieved of its pressure.  He rushed to unwind toilet paper and wad the tissue up to receive the ejaculation; he was panting and sweating profusely.  He sat down on the commode breathing hard, cursing himself for succumbing to this habit he had; it seemed to develop only when he was thinking of himself as a young woman. 
 
He had to take a second shower to freshen himself up; it would make him late to meet his three friends.  He hoped they’d not conclude that he chickened out.  As he had completed getting ready, Marcus’ anticipation of what the afternoon would bring excited him.  He knew he’d become a lovely young woman before the day was done. 
 
***** 
He was only ten minutes late, though he was flushed from the bus ride to Mollie’s apartment. Fortunately, both lived along the No. 30 bus route, one of the most popular in the city.  His three friends were all smiles when he finally entered the 19th floor apartment in a mid-scale project that was popular with young professionals.  It was bright and unusually large for city apartments, but Mollie was able to afford it since she shared the two-bedroom unit with another older woman.  The roommate was gone for the day, Mollie explained. 
 
“I can’t wait to work on your lovely head of hair, Marcus,” she gushed. 
 
“And you should see the outfits I brought for you,” Latesha said. 
 
“I’ve gotten you some new lingerie, Marcus, a package of panties, two bras and a cami,” Amy said, thrusting a Macy’s shopping bag into his hands. 
 
“You’re all so sweet,” he said.  “I love you all.” 
 
The young man was overwhelmed and began to cry.  His friends joined him in a group hug; Marcus enjoyed the feminine fragrances, particularly Latesha’s perfume, coupled with the soapy scent from Amy and the fainter lilac of Mollie.   
 
“Time’s a-wasting, girls,” Mollie said, ending the embrace.  “I better fix her hair first.” 
 
Her?  Marcus wondered if he heard his friend clearly.  Her? 
 
“No, “Amy protested.  “Let her get into her undies first.” 
 
“Shouldn’t she bathe first?” Latesha asked. 
 
“I showered and shaved myself, just before I came,” he said. 
 
They suggested he go to the bathroom and disrobe, and then return wearing one of his new panties.  Marcus at first balked at the thought of appearing before his women friends nearly naked; he had always been ashamed to display his puny body to others.   
 
“Do it, dear,” Mollie said, “We know you’ll look just lovely.” 
 
He accepted the fact that he was going to be the subject of the commands that afternoon of the three women; in fact, he was convinced that they’d physically restrain him if he tried to leave.  Any of the three were likely stronger than he was and he’d not have a chance.  Marcus, however, truly wasn’t interested in leaving; he was excited about seeing how pretty a woman he could be. 
 
“And you can put this on first, inside the panty,” Amy said, handing him what appeared to be a bikini bottom.    
 
“What’s this?” he asked. 
 
“It called a gaff.  Men use it when they dress as women to hold their penis in place,” she explained. 
 
They all giggled as Amy gave a brief demonstration as to how he was to use it.  Latesha wondered how Amy knew about such items and she replied she had looked it up on the Internet. 
 
As Marcus changed clothes, he realized that his friends were determined to make him into a young woman, having planned this escapade even to the point of learning how to hide his penis, even though his own appendage did not offer much of a challenge to cover up.   
 
“Here she comes,” Latesha said as Marcus left the bathroom, a pink fluffy towel covering his slender upper body.  He wore a peach-colored satin panty with lace trim and was struck with how flat his front was, the gaff having done its duty in holding his smallish piece of manhood in place. 
 
Mollie then produced a bra with two forms.  “I hope you don’t mind wearing these,” she said.  “I used them as a teenager when I was slow in developing.” 
 
“They won’t be too big, Marcus, and will be perfect for your lovely figure,” Latesha added. 
 
The girls soon had the breast forms in place, having stuck them to his chest with some sort of adhesive, claiming the forms could easily be removed without difficulty.  Marcus hoped they were right; he hardly was ready to go to work with feminine breasts protruding from beneath his shirts.   
 
“Wow,” Mollie said when they finished. 
 
Marcus looked at himself through a mirror that hung over the dresser in Mollie’s room, astonished to see that it was as if a tiny slip of a girl was reflected, a girl that looked no more than about thirteen.  The girl in the mirror had narrow shoulders, thin arms that were flat and undefined and a soft white tummy; her breasts were smallish.  Her reddish blonde hair hung loosely, wafting onto her shoulders; the girl gave a dainty flick of her wrist to move some strands from the front of her face.  She was coquettish and flirtatious.  She was so cute.  Marcus realized the sweet girl was he. 
 
“Marcus, we need to get started on your hair now,” Mollie announced leading him to the bathroom. 
 
“How can we call her Marcus?” Latesha asked. 
 
“What’s your name, little girl?”  The question came from Amy. 
 
“I don’t know.  Maybe Marian?” he speculated. 
 
“Too ordinary for such a pretty girl,” Amy said. 
 
“How about Petunia?” Mollie asked with a giggle. 
 
“She looks like a dainty Petunia, doesn’t she,” Amy giggled. 
 
“Come on, be sensible,” Marcus objected. 
 
“I like Miranda,” Latesha said. 
 
Marcus’ face lit up.  Miranda?  He liked the sound of it. Suddenly he thought of his mother, Jean; wouldn’t be nice to have her name? 
 
“I like that,” he said, “But why not make it, Miranda Jean?” 
 
“Yes, that’s perfect,” Amy said, quickly finding approval of all of them. 
 
***** 
“I brought along three outfits, Miranda,” Latesha said.  “I hardly ever wear them anymore, but I think they’ll look nice on you.” 
 
Marcus nodded; he was eager to see what she brought and found himself strangely excited at his new life as Miranda Jean.  Latesha always dressed stylishly and he was certain whatever she brought would be stunning. 
 
The first outfit was a dark charcoal colored tunic with spaghetti straps and as she removed it from the garment bag she held it up in front of him.  It looked simple and easy to wear, yet most attractive.  The second was a lace swing dress in a red and black dotted design that ended in mid-thigh.  It featured the four-inch white lace hem with cap sleeves and a rounded bodice.   Finally, she held out a mini-skirt in a gray and yellow leopard design coupled with a white blouse with a peasant neck and layers of ruffles. 
 
“What do you think, Miranda?” Amy asked. 
 
“I love them all, Latesha.  Do you think they’ll fit me?” he asked. 
 
“I think so.  You’re just a tiny bit shorter, but we both have long legs, only yours are actually prettier than mine,” she said, smiling. 
 
The girls helped him try out all three; the truth was he looked smashing in each. 
 
“I’m jealous,” said Mollie.  “I could never look as stunning as Miranda does in these.” 
 
Marcus, now eagerly assuming the identity of Miranda Jean, modeled each of the outfits shamelessly, twirling and prancing about as if he were modeling on the red carpet.  The outfits all fit marvelously well, although they were all a bit tight around the waist since he had a bit more tummy than Latesha.  He had also heard that the male body typically had a wider waist than the equivalent female body. 
 
“I think you’ll need a corset, my dear,” Latesha said. 
 
“Yeah, I should have thought about that when I got her the undies,” Amy said. 
 
“I guess I could do something about losing that tummy,” Marcus said. 
 
“It’s about time you got in a little exercising, Miranda,” Mollie said.  “You could come to my aerobics class with me on Tuesday and Thursday nights.” 
 
“Isn’t that for women only?” he asked. 
 
“I don’t know why a guy can’t come,” she said. 
 
Marcus giggled, wondering if he dared to consider joining such a class of woman; maybe, he mused, he could wear a woman’s outfit.  He doubted any of the other participants would suspect he was a man, anyway. 
 
The girls all thought he looked best in the tunic with spaghetti straps.  “You have pretty shoulders and arms, honey and you should show them off,” Latesha said. 
 
Marcus tended to favor the swing dress since he felt quite flirty in it.  He imagined himself being ogled by boys as he tantalized them with his fragile femininity. 
 
“You’re such a girl,” teased Amy as he had demonstrated a flirtatious maneuver in the outfit.  He wore a pair of women’s size 9 beige colored pumps that Latesha supplied, having determined her own shoes would also fit Marcus’ smallish, narrow feet. 
 
Marcus didn’t change back into his male clothes, leaving on the third outfit, the skirt and blouse combination.  For that wearing, he wore light brown sandals with a two-inch heel.  He felt at ease in the outfit, partly because the waist seemed to be a bit less restricting and also because it seemed most suitable for an informal gathering of girls. 
 
Amy opened one of the two bottles of the merlot she had brought to the party, and the four girls moved to the tiny balcony that opened out of the apartment.  “Let’s toast our newest girlfriend, Miranda Jean,” she said. 
 
Soon the young women finished both bottles.  Now as Miranda Jean, he joined in the conversation easily as the four discussed various clothes, certain music artists, joked about the outfits of several celebrities on their favorite television shows and finally talked about the men they had – or once had and lost – in their lives. 
 
Marcus had something to say about most of the topics, his words often accompanied by girlish movements and followed by a cute giggle.  So far, however, he had nothing to say about boyfriends, past or present, never having experienced such relationships.  He wondered whether he would ever have a boyfriend story to share with her girlfriends one day.  That would have to wait. 
 
***** 
In spite of his protests that Latesha was being too generous, he accepted her offer that he keep the three dresses.   
 
“Really, I don’t need them anymore,” she said.  “Besides, I saw how you loved wearing them.  It’s better they go to somebody who can appreciate them.” 
 
“Are you sure?”   
 
She nodded in the affirmative, but Marcus still demurred. 
 
“I can’t,” he said firmly. 
 
“Why not?”  
 
“I’m a guy and I’m not going to be one of those perverts who prance about in women’s clothes,” he said firmly. 
 
“You’re not a pervert and millions of guys like wearing women’s stuff,” Amy said.  “Take them home and enjoy them.” 
 
They all helped Marcus clean himself up at the end of the afternoon, using a combination of lotions and soap to remove the makeup that had emphasized what a pretty face he had.  She drove Marcus to the ancient mansion in which he had a room, and as she dropped him off, she said, “I hope we’ll see more of our new friend, Miranda.  You really make a lovely young woman and I know you liked it.”  
 
Marcus smiled at hearing the woman’s name they had tagged him with during their afternoon of feminizing him. 
 
“Let me pay you for panties, bra and breast thingies,” he said.   
 
“No, it’s my gift for a beautiful young lady,” Amy said, a mischievous smile crossing her round face. 
 
“I’m a guy, remember that,” he said, getting out of her car. 
 
“I’ll try, but it’ll be hard not to see Miranda.” 
 
“Bye, and thanks for the ride and, I suppose, the undies,” Marcus said, closing the door and heading up the walk to the old house. 
 
Amy watched him as he walked; she noticed he displayed a rhythmical sway to his hips.  He did have a cute butt, she noticed. 
 
Marcus had planned to complete paperwork involving his cases, a chore he had fallen behind in and was determined to finish. His concentration was interrupted as his mind wandered back to his afternoon escapade as Miranda.  After two hours of nearly fruitless effort, he gave up on the reports, deciding to check his email on his computer. 
 
There was a message from Mollie: “See pix of Miranda and girlfriends.”  Marcus blushed as he clicked on the icons, bringing up three photos.  The first showed Miranda wearing the tunic and Marcus lingered over the view of the slender young lady, astonished by the natural beauty of the girl.  He could see the happiness in the girl’s face. 
 
In the next photo, Miranda was wearing the skirt and blouse, and even in the more casual outfit the young lady looked cute and fetching.  The final photo showed her gathered amid her three girlfriends in the flirtatious swing dress; all four were smiling as if they having a bang-up time in a “girls’ night out” adventure.  Miranda was clearly the prettiest, if not the more feminine, of the four, Marcus thought.  Was he truly the prettiest, or was that mere wishful thinking?
 
He looked over the pictures for several minutes, glorying in his own feminine beauty.  “I’m really a beautiful girl,” he said softly.  Tears came to his eyes as he realized he was not a girl, but a boy (or rather, a young man).  As a young man, however, he never felt as good about himself as he did as Miranda.  

(To be continued)
(Thanks to Eric for proofing and finding inconsistencies)


Copyright 2019

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Comments

Very sweet

It continues the promise of the previous chapter. Quite nice and very sweet.

Kaleigh Way

Sweet

I wonder if her girlfriends realize she Miranda is transgendered or not and are just not phrasing it that way to ease it to her."

hugs :)
Michelle SidheElf Amaianna

The door has been opened

Jamie Lee's picture

The girls see someone else in Marcus than who is seen by others. It was only time that let Marcus feel comfortable telling Amy about his dream, as if she didn't suspect the truth.

The girls acceptance of Miranda has opened the door for Marcus' dream to be realized. Will he walk through or stand at the threshold?

Others have feelings too.