Author's note: I do not mean to be preachy in this section.

 

Alan's Penance

by Ann O'Nonymous

 

Chapter 10: A Sticky Wicket

Upstairs, Nancy got a damp washcloth and a clean diaper. She then put the rubber sheet on the bed and had Alan lay on it. "Would you be a dear and pull the skirt and slip up out of the way?" she requested.

"Sure, emm Nancy – I'm . . . "

"No regrets now. I need to pull down those luscious pettipants of yours."

Ho boy, Alan thought – here we go again. But, this time it was just an erection. "Geez Nancy, will you stop that! I'll never have clean, emm, whatever on."

"Awe gee! Is my widdle snookums afwaid of his big bad peepee, or is it your willie."

Frowning and looking her straight in the eye, Alan gave a "What do you think I am" kind of look. He replied indignantly, "My 'penis' will do quite well, thank you kindly!"

"That's good – no Mr. Happy, cock, prick, love stick, willie or some other stupid name. I will never understand why boys give such outlandish names to that part of their anatomy. You wouldn't call your leg Mr. Runner or Mr. Walker, would you?"

"Well I certainly wouldn't!" came his indignant reply.

Unpinning the diaper Nancy exclaimed, "My oh my! You are really gonna make some girl really, really happy – geez, you are sticky all over. Michelangelo, you could've coated three walls and half the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Now you can see why we made you wear this article?"

<At that pronouncement, knowing the size of the chapel made Alan break into a snorting fit.>

While Nancy worked cleaning off his formerly private area, Alan tried to keep his mind off her playful teasing and washing, but a question bugged him: "You said you 'hoped' that would happen. What did you mean?"

Nancy pursed her lips, questioned how and/or whether she should answer it at this time. She said, "Let me finish fixing you up, then I'll tell you, okay?"

Alan relaxed on the bed, nodded his assent, and enjoyed the attraction of this lovely girl. (Hmmm, a girl, or woman, or lady? I guess she's all three.)

With a clean diaper on, panties and the pretty pettipants back in their proper place, Nancy said, "Fix your dress and slip, sit beside me and I'll explain!"

Remembering to smooth out the slip and skirt under him, he sat as requested, with hands resting demurely in his lap, and she put an arm around him, squeezing tenderly – a sister caressing a sister. It was now Eve's turn.

"Okay, Alan/Eve. When I said 'hope it would be,' I was referring to the ejaculation of your semen. You were aroused by my description of that lovely wedding dress as shown by your erection. You were stimulated by the thought of that dress, and the subsequent marriage."

Eve interrupted, "But was it just the dress? I mean, doesn't a wedding dress mean being … wed … wed to a man?"

"That's just it, dear, that's what excited you! It's the idea of no one suspecting that there is a real man hiding under that veil, wearing an exquisite wedding gown with the same frills, bows and laces as his bride, and the two exchanging identical rings. It's the idea of a man being married to a woman, each wearing an identical dress! Umm, you make a statement to all around that 'Look, I wear a gown just like my wife's. I wear a ring just like my wife's. I do this to show that we are an equal partnership,' and that is as it should be."

"Mom said that to me a lot, Nancy. She would say, 'Your wife will be a mother, lover, wife, and most important of all, an equal.' I was raised to respect my mother, her sisters, and other females."

Nancy replied, "You do know that respect goes both ways – you respected her, and she returned the compliment."

"Mom said, 'If you want to get respect, you have to give respect.' "

Ah yes, he will be a wonderful mate for Nikki, Nancy thought as she said, "Before we go down and meet the girls, I want to change your shoes and stockings – you wore them all morning and your feet are sweaty."

"Umm, okay. Emm, could you powder my feet."

<Ahh, now he's relaxed.> "Good idea, it will help with the stockings," replied Nancy.

With the shoes and socks off, Nancy massaged baby oil into the toes, instep and arches of each foot sending waves of pleasure through Alan. Next a fragrant powder (smelled like lilacs) was dusted onto the feet.

"Can you imagine doing this for your lovely wife after she's had a hard day at work? And she could do this for you, dear," Nancy grinned.

"Wait a minute, Nancy – my wife work? I'm not so sure about that. Emmm, isn't the man supposed to be the supporter in the household?"

"Alan! I'm surprised at you!" Nancy said in mock shock.

"Nancy, I wouldn't feel right if my wife also had to work – it would be like I wasn't a good enough provider to support her."

"I understand, dear, but don't you think that she would have to make her own decision on whether to work or not?"

"I agree, but . . . but . . . oh hell! We'll just have to talk that over, I guess."

Nikki, you are getting a real prize here, Nancy thought as she replied, "Now that's what a real man would say – the two of you working together to find a solution. Alan, you think well beyond your age! Now let's get those feet covered unless you prefer to play barefoot."

"Hey, I can always stick a few aces between my toes," replied Alan.

The white stockings were calf high, each with a red heart on the outside, and a turned over top with a pair of pompons pinned on under a cute pink bow. A pair of one-inch heeled black shoes with a "T" strap, covered with a pretty bow, was the last item.

At the vanity, Nancy repaired Eve's lipstick (Alan now reverted to Eve, and he found this idea of being able to change modes kind of cool), brushed on a little blush followed by a spritz of perfume and pronounced, "Eve, let's go take those players for all they got!"

 

Chapter 11: This Aint "Go Fish"

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, waiting Nikki announced, "Some of the girls are already here. Sandy wants first crack at Evie."

Even though it was warm, Alan shivered a little. "Oh my god, what the hell am I in for," "what is going to happen," and "why did I ever agree to this" all started to run rampant through his mind. He sought comfort in one of two he knew he could trust the most – taking Nikki's hand, he quietly said, "This is the first time I'll be meeting these girls, and I must say I'm really scared."

Her gentle, calming squeeze made a whole lot of difference. "No one will hurt our little Evie – relax, and have fun. Hey Sandy, here's our visitor!"

Looking in the direction of Nikki's gaze, he saw a girl about Nancy's age, five feet five inches tall with gorgeous blonde hair, wearing a damn-near see-through blouse (her lacy bra was a pale blue) with knee length blue denim skirt. Her smile and wave were very friendly.

"Sandra, I'd like you to meet our house guest Eve St. John. Eve, this is Sandy. Her father is Mayor Joseph Parks," Nikki said.

Sandy didn't waste a handshake – it was a kiss and hug with, "Eve, dear, you smell great. That is a nice skirt. And those adorable socks – how cute."

"Thanks! Love your blouse! You are really pretty, Sandy."

Her smile made Eve feel real good, and her, "And you are a very lovely young lady – please honor me by sitting at my table," made him feel extra special.

<Now this 'feeling' was something especially different from previous experiences. This young lady – and that she was – actually wanted him by her.>

Entering the room holding Sandy's hand, Eve could hear the sounds of classical music coming from a radio, or CD player. (He half expected a live quartet or quintet.) Looking around, s/he counted five tables, all set up with drinks and snacks, and perhaps eighteen or more young women in slacks, jeans, skirts, and some in beautiful brightly-colored sundresses. Sandy took him to various groupings and introduced him to them, all very attractive and kind to him. With near hugs and kisses, Eve became their center of attraction and, as they gathered around, one girl asked, "What is that adorable lacy thing you are wearing?" Lifting up the skirt and slip, he showed off the pettipants to their "oohs," "aahs" and "how adorable" without feeling shame at what he was wearing. He even volunteered what he had on under that luscious garment. Finally, he was led to a table near the window, one that looked out onto a small flower garden, where a bench was sitting at one place.

Sharing the bench, Eve sat quite girlishly to Sandy's right. In front there was a tray with pretzels, chips, chocolate pieces and other snacks, and a pitcher filled with orange juice sat on a "Girls Rule" tray. A plastic glass sat at each players position. Between the trays, two sealed decks of cards awaited the players. Players filling out the table were: Nikki, to her right; Della Morris, daughter of a teacher, across from her; and Fran Kimball, daughter of a banker, to Sandy's left.

"Okay," Sandy announced, "For Eve's benefit, here are the house rules: Three raises max; no check and raise; no picking up checks; play is from money on table," (To Eve she said, "Meaning you can't go into pocket for change during the play of any hand.") "You can't raise anyone out of a pot; cards read, not the declaration; ante is ten cents at all times; and, all bets are settled at end of hand – no carryovers. Understand, sweetheart."

"Emm, one question: can I go light in the pot?"

Sandy grinned as she said, "Only if there isn't enough there to make change. Antes and opening bets are ten cents, raises are in nickel increments."

Before the first hand was dealt, Sandra and Nikki switched places. Nikki dumped a pile of coins on the table, saying, "If no one complains, Eve and I will be partners."

It was quiet as Nikki dealt the first hand – Texas Hold'em. This partnership started on a high note: ace and king of diamonds were their hole cards.

As play progressed, Della asked, "If you don't mind, Evie, would you like to tell us how you got in this mess?"

Alan mused, wrinkled his nose, looked to Nikki for help and she gave him a "you're on your own" look in return. Since it wouldn't hurt, he said, "I wanted some friends, and I thought . . . ."

Nikki interrupted: "The horrid twosome inveigled him into an illegal entry!"

"No, Nikki – it was a stupid boy trick!" replied Eve, "I did the wrong thing, and this is . . . well, actually, my reward."

"How nice that you see this as a reward," stated Fran, "most boys would go 'aaaarrrggghhh,' scream a few epi'threats,' and be running away as fast as possible."

"We caught him in the house," Nikki said proudly. "One of the bastards sold him out."

"Well, he's as pretty as, or more than, any girl here. And to go through this and what's planned makes him braver than ninety percent of the brats around here," Fran stated.

"Emmm, Fran," Eve tentatively asked, "this 'what's planned'; I take it that, emm, you and the others know?"

Della and Fran smiled. Della replied, "Sweetie, don't be too shocked. We were asked for some ideas."

Eve put on a rather silly grin then replied, "Well that just gives me more incentive to beat the, emm, panties off of you!"

At the hand's end, Eve and Nikki, with an ace high flush, raked in the pot. 'Alan' enjoyed the company, the snacks, and the chatter of the girls regarding school, boys, clothes, city politics and school sports (he was surprised to find out that most of the girls there were on teams), and just plain being where he was. As the game progressed, more often than not, he was holding hands with either Nikki or Sandy. As girls switched from table to table he had a chance to meet and talk with all of them – soon, his version of the escapade was known by most, and all sympathized with him.

On several occasions, they shown their slips, stockings, pettipants under slacks, and panties; so, to be absolutely fair, he showed his lovely lingerie. The showing of such intimate apparel confirmed his thought that there was a trust being established between him and the group of ladies around the room. Slowly but very surely, he was growing into this group.

"Hmmm, 'growing' does seem to fit," Eve quietly mused as she studied the flop, "it is a kind of melding into a world around you – you learn how to fit in, and how you fit in."

At his nod, Nikki said, "Bump it a dime."

.. .. .. -- -- -- .. .. .. .- .- .- -- ---- ---- ---- .. .. .. -.. -.. -.. -

Four o'clock came and a Grandmother's clock chimed the hour. To hugs and kisses and a "It was really nice to meet you Evie, see you next week, okay" from almost all the girls, the wonderful party broke up. Eve, Nikki and Nancy pitched in to clear off the tables, take cups and snack trays back for washing, and return card tables to their hiding place.

"So, how did you do, Eve?" Nancy inquired.

A smiling, strangely happy, Eve sighed as she replied, "I think this was the best time I ever had!!!"

"Oh, I'm sure of that – I saw you conducting 'La Valse,' " giggled Nancy, "but I was speaking in terms of money, dear."

"O-h-h-h-h, dunno – Nikki's got our loot," replied Eve.

Hearing the request, Nikki stated, "We came out ahead," as she started to count the change and a few bills. "Six, emm seven fifty ahead – not too shabby, eh Eve. That's going in my bank for our honeymoon!" Again, Eve felt the rib-crushing strength of this young Amazon.

"Geez, Nikki, lighten up," came from an almost breathless Eve, "I'm glad you're on my side – you are on my side, aren't you?" and then it struck, "HONEYMOON – aren't you jumping the gun, just a tiny, wee tad."

"You're still standing aintcha? Well, I don't want to put things off till the last minute."

"That's my sis," Nancy said to no one in particular.

With the room in a semblance of normalcy, the trio assembled in the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"Ever cook eggplant Eve?"

"I don't think I have, Nancy."

"Well, we'll get it started, and call for help later, okay?"

"Okay," Eve replied, and started musing/daydreaming/thinking about the card party, and how much she shouldn't have enjoyed it.

< It was a lot of fun talking to Fran, Betty, Alice, Lisa, Sandy; yes, Sandy – she liked classical music and seemed to know almost every selection on the CD player; then there's Della – she had the cutest panties, with darling little hearts and bows. Oh, what am I saying here! "Darling" and "cutest" aren't supposed to be in a boy's vocabulary. Darling – darling – darling. Is it really that bad to say something "cutsie" like scrumptious and luscious. Scrumtious – scrumptious – scrumptious.>

"Hey Eve, need you to slice and salt the eggplant," Nancy broke in.

"Okay," she replied. While slicing, she said, "I really had a ball, Nancy, but I don't understand why."

Nancy dropped some tomatoes into boiling water, waited three minutes then fished them out for Nikki to peel. She then said, "Alan, there are more than just the male and female gender. There are transgendered people."

"Say what?" Alan replied with raised eyebrows and a startled look. "Emm, are you saying . . ."

"Sprinkle salt on the eggplant slices and place them in the colander in the sink, dear. What I'm saying," Nancy stated as she watched Eve obey her request, "is that there are a lot of people who do not fall into the established categorization of male and female."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"

"One question: Are you enjoying the feel of what you are wearing?"

<Great! How to answer? The dress, slip and panties – why do they feel so good, so right? As I keep telling myself, I'm a boy. Am I sick – no, I'm doing this for mom. This is so perverted – a boy in girl's clothes! Why oh why does it feel so nice?>

"Nancy, I really don't want to answer that question."

His unwillingness to reply was an answer in itself. "Okay. How about washing the eggplant off and I'll show you what we're cooking."

They took the eggplant, dipped it in egg then bread crumbs and repeated the process. Next it was fried a few minutes in vegetable oil (Canola, I think she said) then placed into a glass baking-dish, covering the bottom. Nikki covered the eggplant with Swiss cheese slices, and a chopped mixture of mushrooms, peppers and tomatoes. That went into the oven for about fifteen minutes; then seasoned breadcrumbs were added to the top, and the dish returned to the oven.

Meanwhile, Nikki went to set the table, and Eve assisted. As Nikki put out the dishes, she said, "Mom's bringing home company for dinner."

<Bring her on! I can take it, was Alan's first thought. But, take what?>

"Oh good, mom's charging to my rescue – she's going to take me away from this den of . . . of . . ."

"Iniquity, Eve," interrupted Nikki, "means 'wickedness.' Do you really want her to 'rescue' you? Do mean that, dear."

Eve stood, her hands clasped, in that famous theatrical pose, besides her cheek. She dropped them to her side, and looked at her with a strangely sad look as she replied, "Nikki, I don't know. It's . . . it's . . . oh, Nikki, I just don't know! I thought I could say 'get me out of here' or 'please take me home, I promise I'll be good,' but . . .."

"Let's talk later, okay?"

At his nod they finished with the place settings.

 

To Be Continued?

  

  

  

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