I’m Joe, and just finished my first year of junior high. It was traumatic. I'm a bright, well-mannered, skinny klutz – not in the least athletic. I was always chosen last for teams. In short, I was a mama’s boy through and through, bullied and teased by most of the other boys and some of the girls as well. I often came home in tears, but managed a happy face by the time my mommy came home – typically about 6:00. So, she didn’t know how unhappy I was.

The last day of school was a half day, and I expected to pass that Friday afternoon alone. Instead, mommy was awaiting me when I got home.

“Shall we go out and celebrate your release?”

“My release?”

“Yes, from that place of torture they call a school. … I know you’ve been very unhappy, darling.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think – remember I’m a trial lawyer and used to reading witnesses.”

“Then why didn’t you say something before?”

“Because I wanted you to give it your best shot. I talked to your counselor and teachers, and know you’ve done so. Let’s go to lunch and we can talk.”

We drove to one of those downtown restaurants mommy likes – you know the kind: a valet who knows her name parks her car, and the maitre d’ leads her to a primo table without being asked. A Harvey Wallbanger appears in front of her without being ordered. I was served my usual Shirley Temple, but she winked at the waiter, and it was taken away and returned a minute later. The new one had a delicious bite.

“Is there alcohol in it?” I whispered?

“You know you’re underage, darling.”

Still, the more I drank, the more relaxed I became. When our meal came, mommy asked John, our waiter, to bring me another.

As we ate, she asked about my trials at school and, strangely, I was relaxed enough to talk freely about the bullying I’d endured. Several times her questions opened new rooms in my hall of suffering. By the time I finished, tears we rolling down my cheeks.

“It’s worse than I thought, darling. Still, you’ll be glad to know that you won’t have to endure it longer. I’ve arranged a home schooling program for you in the fall. Most of your work will be on the computer, so you can proceed at you own pace, but a tutor will come in to help you over any rough spots. You’ll also join with others for trips and socialization.
“Also, since you’re turning 13, you’ll start doing your share at home. How does that sound, darling?”

“Wonderful mommy!”

When we got home, I was exhausted. Mommy insisted I take a nap and gave me a lavender tee to wear to bed. The tee was very long, coming to my knees. I didn’t wake until she came in at 5:30.

“Wakey, wakey! I ordered a pizza and put ‘Frozen’ in the DVD player. … Was your new nightshirt comfy?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“They had another one with Princess Elsa. I know she’s your favorite – but I thought you might be embarrassed to wear it. … You shouldn’t be, you know … If you like it.”

I blushed.

“I think you might. Shall I get it for you?”

“I don’t know, mommy.”

“Okay, darling.”

I probably should have said “no,” but Elsa is my favorite Disney character, and it was considerate of mommy to think of getting it for me. Just then, the doorbell rang.

“That must be the pizza. Go potty and come right out.”

“Go potty?” I thought to myself: I’m mot a baby, you know, mommy – but I went and said nothing. As the tee was so long, it was easier to sit to pee than to hold it up while I stood. As she asked me to come right out, I did not change into my pants and shirt after I finished.

Once we finished our pizza, I snuggled against her breasts, and she put her arm around me. About midway through the movie I noticed her pushing my hair this way and that.

“What are you doing with my hair?”

“It’s the same color as Elsa’s. I was thinking that, if we let it grow a little, I could style it like hers.”

“Mommy! I’m a boy!”

“So? Does that mean you can’t have nice hair?”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Still, I kept thinking what it’d be like to wear my hair like Elsa. That night I dreamt I was wearing it the straight way, but later I looked in the dream mirror and saw it braided.

Saturday morning mommy brushed my hair, trimmed a few loose strands and had me look in the mirror. The part was a bit higher, like Elsa’s, but the difference was hardly noticeable. Then we went to an Italian grocery for subs and sodas. When we checked out, the clerk said how cute my hair looked, which made me feel nice. Finally, we drove up to a little waterfall we like for a hike and picnic.

That evening, I got my first cooking lesson. I chose a cheery apron with a daisy print then learned how to make a dinner with pasta, canned sauce, frozen meatballs and salad mix. I was quite proud of the result, which was all my work. We watched another of my favorites, “The Secret Garden,” as we ate.

At bedtime, she gave me cotton underpants that matched my night shirt. I asked why they had no fly. She said it was because they were part of a sleep set.

Sunday we went to church in the morning, but in the afternoon, she showed me how to sort, wash, dry and fold the dirty clothes because the next day was laundry day, and I’d be doing it from now on. The most embarrassing part was her delicates, but she said she’d do any that required hand washing.

When I did the laundry Monday, I couldn’t help but feel her delicates, which were unlike anything of mine. After dinner, she looked at the clean laundry and complimented me on my work. It felt good to be such a good helper. Still, she had a question.

“Where are the panties from your sleep set?”

“Under my pillow.”

“You should wear fresh undies everyday. How come you didn’t just get a clean pair out of your drawer?”

“I thought of that, but they don’t match the top.”

“Do you want me to buy more like the pair you have?”

“I ‘spose.”

“You only had to ask.”

Tuesday, she came home with two packages of three girls’ panties the color of my nightshirt.

“That should be enough for the week.”

“Mommy, these are girls’ panties.”

“I’m sorry, darling, but they’re the only matching underpants I could find. They’re just like your first pair, but if you don’t want them, I’ll take them back. Do you want me to?”

“Let me see them please? … They do look like the ones I already have. Still, the package says ‘Girls Panties.’”

“If you like them, why should that matter? No one is going to see them but you and me. Do you want to keep them or not?”

“I guess they’re okay. I’ll wear them.” I didn’t want to cause her any trouble, and she was right: no one would know what kind of panties I wore to bed, Still, panties!

Nothing much happened the rest of the week. I did my chores each morning and read, watched TV or played computer games until it was time to start dinner. As I didn’t go out, there was no point in getting dressed when I got up, so I wore my sleep set till noon the first few days, then all day. By Wednesday, my night shirt was pretty gross. Mommy finally asked me if I wanted another one, as she was tired of seeing and smelling that one. Since it was so comfortable, I said yes.

Thursday night, she gave me a blue Elsa nightshirt and a package of matching panties. I really liked it, and I knew mommy wouldn’t tease me, so I thanked her.

“How about a trip to the beach tomorrow?”

“That sounds lovely, mommy.”

“OK, check and see if your shorts from last summer still fit.”

“I tried them last week -- they’re too tight. That’s one reason I’ve been wearing my nightshirts all day – to keep cool.”

“And you look cool in them too,” she smiled. “At any rate, I’ll get you some on the way home. Would you like Bermudas, or short shorts?”

“Is it going to be hot?”

“That’s the forecast.”

“Then, short shorts, please.”

“Do you have a color preference?”

“Well, you know I like blue, purple and lavender.”

“Of course, darling.”

Saturday morning, I woke and found a pair of purple shorts and a lavender tanktop laid out for me. I took off my nitie and put on the top. It was the same color as my panties, so I kept them on as I pulled up my new shorts. New purple and white flip flops completed the ensemble.

Mommy was waiting in the kitchen, and told me how cute I looked. “Do you like your beach clothes, Joe?”

“Oh, yes, mommy – everything goes together perfectly. The top even matches my panties, so I kept them on. … Do you think that’s OK?”

“Of course, Joe … if you like them, wear them. Who’s to know?”

“You’re right, mommy. I shouldn’t worry about such things.”

We went to the Pancake House for breakfast where the hostess said how cute I looked. As I rarely get compliments, that made me happy. After, we went to the shore, rode the merry-go-round, played bumper cars and waded in the surf.

As mommy and I were tanning ourselves, couple of boys my age came over to talk to me. One wanted to play Frisbee, while the other wanted to play in the surf. Mommy suggested that I give each a turn and asked the surf boy to come back in 15-20 minutes. I played Frisbee with Ralph for a while, but as I’m not very good at it, I didn’t have a very good time.

Luckily, Bret came back and saved me from further embarrassment by leading me off to the waves. He was taller and huskier than me, with wavy brown hair. I went in much further than I ever did before, but I felt safe as he held my hand and made sure I wasn’t knocked over and swept away. I lost track of the time, and the sun was nearly down when I heard mommy calling me. Bret wanted my phone number, but mommy told him I was too young to date. It was only them that I realized that he thought I was a girl!

“Did you have a good time, darling?” mommy asked on the ride home.

“I did, but I didn’t know Bret thought I was a girl. Do you think Ralph did too?”

“Oh, yes, darling.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“And spoil your fun? I wanted you to have a good time, and no harm was done. Both the boys had a good time as well – although I think Bret enjoyed himself more. You helped make them more confident young men.”

“Oh.” I was very quiet on the way home, for I had a lot to think about.

I woke up very embarrassed at being with a boy as a girl, even though it was entirely innocent and I was unaware it was happening. I took off my nitie. A pantied sissy stared at me from the mirror. That was embarrassing as well, but not enough to make me change into my jockies. They waited, unused, in my drawer. I put on the shorts and top I’d worn. They didn’t scream “girl!” Still, purple and lavender weren’t masculine either.

I played with my hair, moving the part to the side an inch, and then back. That small change, in my mind at least, was like stepping back and forth over the boy-girl line. Clearly, I was on the edge of the line. I thought of my panties. No one could see them, but perhaps they had some magic effect that inched me over the line to the girl side – an effect Ralph and Bret had seen, though I hadn’t.

I was just about to take off my lavender top and panties when I remembered how much fun I had at the beach. For the first time in as long as I could remember, kids my age wanted to play with me. Then there were the smiles and compliments I’d received at Pancake House. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a girl, but I knew I liked dressing on that side of the line.

“Good morning darling!” Mommy kissed me on the cheek. “Bacon and eggs?”

“That would be wonderful, mommy, but you drink your coffee and read your paper, and I’ll cook them. I want to do my part.”

“You are a gem, Joe.”

I put on my daisy apron and started breakfast. From time to tine, mommy glanced over and made suggestions – like turning down the heat. We like our eggs over easy, and I broke them all, but mommy still complimented me on my cooking and said next time she’d show me how to glaze the tops before turning them so they wouldn’t break.

As we ate mommy asked, “Have you thought any more about you and the boys yesterday?”

“Yes, I have. I had a really good time with them. They were happy – except Ralph was disappointed that I’m such a terrible Frisbee player – and I had a wonderful time. If it takes boys thinking I might be a girl for them to want to play with me, that’s OK. I mean I didn’t lie to them or anything.”

“No, Joe, you didn’t. Did you find Bret attractive?”

“He’s handsome and strong, and took good care of me. Still, I never felt like kissing him or anything. I just liked him.”

“And if kissed you?”

“Mommy!”

“Well, if boys go on thinking you’re a girl, one is going to try to kiss you sooner or later. Also, in a couple of years, they’re going to want more. So, you need to think about that.”

“OK, I will.”

“Well, you need to put on church clothes.”

“OK, mommy. … Then, after mass, could we go shopping for some fancier church clothes?”

“You mean more feminine?”

“Well, closer to the line.” I blushed.

“I think we could find some cute outfits that are ‘closer to the line.’”

“Thank you, mommy.” I scampered off to change into slacks and a pale blue polo shirt.

After mass we went to Kohl’s. Mommy paired charcoal ponte pants with a white button down blouse. I found orchid shortalls and a boat neck tee in the same hue, but much darker, for everyday wear. It had a daisy, which is my favorite flower, embroidered above the left breast. In the shoe department, I got a pair of loafers with a stacked heel and purple and white sneakers.

I was anxious to go home and try my new things, so mommy told me to go to the car as she had some surprises in mind. When we got home, mommy sent me to change into my ponte pants and blouse, but before I finished she knocked and came in with a little bag. In it was a padded pink training bra. She fastened it around my chest and adjusted the shoulder straps., Then, I put on my new blouse.

I could hardly breathe – not because my bra was tight, but because my reflection looked just like a budding girl. My breasts were small, like most other girls my age – just enough to make two unmistakable bumps on the front of my blouse. Tears streamed down my face. I did not know if I was happy or sad – only that my feelings overwhelmed me and I couldn’t stop crying. Mommy held me close until my eyes ran dry.

“Well, Jo? Do you want to keep your bra, or should I take it back?”

I ran my hands over my ersatz breasts. “Oh mommy. … I want to … to keep it.”

“Then it’s yours, darling. … I got you another present. Here …”

In the bag was A Teen’s First Makeup Kit. When I opened it, there was too much to take in – colors, brushes, tubes, lipsticks, and A Girl’s First Makeup Book.

“That is for you to experiment with, Jo. I also got you a jar of cold cream and some pads to take your make up off with. You can show me what you look like in makeup when you’re ready, but if you’re never ready, that’s OK too.”

I started crying again.

“I think you need a nap, Jo. You can model your shortall set when you wake up. OK?”

“Yes, mommy,” I sniffled. I left my bra on for my nap.