Smoking fetish/tg story. After his make-over from the 4th chapter, Hank looks like a middle-aged woman. Hank comes clean with his mother about his sexuality when he tells her about being attracted to older men. This story takes place in the 1970s, but I'm sticking to current age of consent laws, because most of you are reading this story in 2008. BTW, there's no sex in this chapter.

Parental Permission_05
by slimv

Hank woke up the next morning and began the daunting task of putting on his make-up the way Brenda at the salon had showed him. Looking at the clock, he noted that it had taken him almost an hour and a half. Does that mean I'm going to be spending an hour or more doing this every day for the rest of my life? And then he remembered how long it took him to take off his make-up before going to bed. The boy inside him was impatient but the woman inside him understood.

He went to his mother's bedroom to pick out an outfit for the day. She looked at him through her mirror as she was putting on her make-up. A cigarette was burning in the ashtray. She turned around and greeted him.

"I can't you believe how well you put on your make-up by your self," said Arlene. "How long did it take?"

"Longer than Brenda said it would, but I'll get faster."

"I'm sure you will honey. That nightgown looks good on you, now that you have breasts."

"Thanks. I just came in to borrow some more of your clothes, if that's okay with you."

"Sure it is honey. You can think of my closet as your closet for the rest of the summer. How about that?"

"Okay, thanks." So there it is, thought Hank. The end of summer. She put a time frame on it.

"Of course," said Arlene, "if this is something you want to keep doing, we should really go shopping for some clothes of your own."

"You mean if I want to keep doing this on the weekends when school starts back?"

"Unless you plan on going back to school as a teacher instead of a student. Of course you can still do it when you get home, but by the time you get your make-up on, it would be time to take it back off."

"So it wouldn't bother you if I kept doing this, even after summer is over?"

"This summer is for you. Your father and I want you to use it to figure out who you are and to discover what makes you happy."

His mother's noncommittal comment did relatively little to put his issues in perspective but he thanked her anyway.

"Your welcome honey. And by the way, I was serious about taking you shopping for some clothes of your own. We can go to the mall after we get dressed if you want."

"The mall? But what if I see someone I know?"

"Then you'll see them, but they won't see you. I promise you honey. No one is going to recognize you looking like that?"

"But what will you say if they recognize you and they ask who I am?"

"I'll tell them you're my sister and they'll believe me, because that's what we look like. The only thing I don't know is what to call you."

"Hank is short for Henry and Henry is a boy name for Henrietta, isn't it?"

Arlene shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I've never heard of a woman named Hank. Are you saying you want me to call you Henrietta?"

"No. Not really. But if you really had a sister and her name was Henrietta, you might have called her Hank for a nickname, right?"

Arlene nodded. "I suppose I might have. Does that mean you want me to introduce you as Hank if somebody asks?"

"Yeah, but make sure you tell them its short for Henrietta, and you named me in honor of your sister. That would make sense. Wouldn't it?"

Arlene smiled. "Actually it would. So do you want to go shopping?"

"Yeah Mom. Lets go."

******

"This is really fun Mom," said Hank as he browsed through the women's pant suits hanging on the rack in Chicos.

A sales girl working close by shot them a funny look as she went about her business of arranging blouses by size.

"Not so loud honey."

"What did I say?"

"You called me Mom," whispered Arlene. "And the woman by the blouses heard you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't think of that."

"Your father and I did. We talked about it last night. He wants you to start calling us by our first names when we're in public."

"Really Arlene?" asked Hank, trying it on for size. "Like this?"

Arlene burst out giggling. "Yes," she said. "If you want that suit, lets buy it and get some lunch. And then afterwards, we need to get you a bathing suit for Orlando."

"A one piece like yours," asked Hank?

"I'm afraid so. Most women my age don't wear bikinis."

*****

Arlene ordered off the menu for both of them and laid down the menu.

"Would either of you ladies care for a cocktail before lunch," asked the waiter?

"Two Diet Cokes will be fine," said Arlene.

Arlene and Hank were discussing bathing suits when the waiter returned with their drinks. Hank was placing a cigarette between his lips.

"May I?" asked the waiter as he held out a light.

"Yeah, I guess. Thank you," said Hank as he allowed the waiter to light his cigarette.

"My pleasure maam."

Arlene giggled at the expression on her son's face as he exhaled. "Don't tell me you're surprised that a man wants to light your cigarette. With your smoking fetish, you should know that better than anybody."

"I guess so," said Hank, "but its still weird having the shoe on the other foot."

"I imagine it is, but did you like it?"

"Yeah. Actually I did. I liked it a lot."

"I know we haven't discussed your sexuality, but your father and I have flirted with the question and not that it makes a difference to us, but we are rather curious?

"You're asking me if I'm gay or straight?

Arlene raised her eyebrows and pulled on her cigarette. "It's a simple question. Is there a simple answer? Or is it more complicated?"

"Definitely more complicated."

"Then I take it you're bisexual. You like boys and girls, right? That's not so complicated. A lot of people are bisexual."

Hank looked away. "No. I'm not bisexual."

Arlene was starting to get frustrated. "Well if you're not gay or straight or bisexual, the only thing left is asexual."

"That's not it either."

"Then what is it darling? Please tell me so I can help you."

Hank closed his eyes and spit out the words he never hoped to say to anyone, much less his mom. "I think I like men."

"Then you're gay!" said Arlene, feeling as if she'd won a game of twenty questions.

"Not men as in boys Mom. I think I like real men, older ones."

"How old? College aged?"

"No. More like Dad's age, or older."

"Honey! your father is 55 years old."

"Don't you think I know that Mom?"

"Have you ever even been with a man or with a boy for that matter?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you don't like women? Or females? Whatever you want to call them. Girls."

"Because I don't think about girls when I think about being with someone. I think about older men and I hate myself for it but that's what I think about."

"Maybe you're over reacting? All this sudden femininity has probably overloaded your senses. And this thing about liking older men...well I hate to be the one to tell you, but its probably a figment of your imagination. Look at you honey. You've been through a lot. This is probably some kind of...I don't know- post traumatic reaction to that make-over Brenda gave you. Heaven knows its giving your father and I one."

"I don't think so Mom. I've had these feelings forever. I just never talked about them before. I don't blame you for not wanting to believe me because I don't want to believe it either."

"Really," asked Arlene? "You've always felt this way?"

Hank nodded. "I can't remember when I didn't. Even when I was a little kid and you'd take me to see Santa Clause. I'd get an erection when I sat on his lap because he had a gray hair and he was smoking a pipe."

"Oh dear," said Arlene.

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you really willing to give up your life as a boy for my life as a middle-age woman? Think about it, because your life would be a lot like mine is now."

"That's exactly what I want Mom," said Hank as he extracted a cigarette from his smart looking cigarette case and lit it.

"Okay," said Arlene. "We'll talk to your dad about it."