Andrea’s Story

by Christy Lake and Misty Dawn

 

Andrew Winslowe is two years younger than his sister Sharla Winslowe. Strange things happen around Sharla and Strange Forces are at play. Andrew got angry at an artifact on the wrong day. This is his story.

Chapter 1   Who is Andrew
Chapter 2   Curiosity Zapped the Andrew
Chapter 3   School, Swimming and Halloween
Chapter 4   Other Things, Winter Solstice, and Spring Equinox

 

Chapter 4 Other Things, Winter Solstice, and Spring Equinox

Andrew was feeling totally unfit to be in the human race. He loved the feel of girl’s soft feminine clothes, loved being emotional and gentle. He’d felt that as Andrea, he could go out into the world as a girl. Though he hated to admit it, dressing as a girl did feel "right," made him feel ever so feminine, and him want to do every possible thing that any real girl could do. Real girls, like Sylvia—Andrew well knew from his own summer-past experience with Sylvia--enjoyed, and even expected to enjoy pleasuring guys. Jerry Tanner had expected Andrew to enjoy pleasing him; in the same manner Andrew had expected Sylvia to enjoy pleasing him. What really worried him was that he now faced being considered a queer.

Even though he was hurting, physically and emotionally, he understood he had certain responsibilities to the team that he needed to address, so he determined he had better go see the coach.

Monday, after school, Andrew went by the pool to tender an excuse for not being able to participate in swimming practices for at least a week. Coach Wyatt had just dismissed the gypsies because she had a meeting to attend in fifteen minutes. He explained that he had slid into second base during a sandlot baseball game and badly skinned both knees. Wincing, he pulled up his pants legs to show the gauze bandages he had wrapped around his knees yesterday. Before leaving, Coach Wyatt called Cheryl over.

"Cheryl, Andy scuffed up his knees, looks like pretty bad, playing baseball yesterday. Looks like what you used to do to yourself a couple years ago. Take him into the treatment room, soak those pads off his knees, clean the injury thoroughly, and determine if a rewrap is sufficient or if you need to put a temp on and take him to the nursing station at the University."

"Here is the key to the treatment room, and this to the medicine locker. If he is just scuffed, you could use the Teflon coated pads in the bottom shelf, on the left. You take care of Andy." Coach Wyatt handed the keys to Cheryl, grabbed her coat, purse, and briefcase and said, "Put the keys in the usual place after you lock up."

Coach Wyatt knew a bit about his condition, from the conversations with Dr Hollister and Andy’s mother. Coach Jan was also well aware that Cheryl was comfortable with Andy because Cheryl had helped him with the corset a couple of weeks before. So she had no compunction about sending Cheryl and Andy into the treatment room alone to get treatment for his knees.

Cheryl draped her arm across the shoulders of her shorter buddy, like she normally did when they were palling around to lead him into the treatment room. She was shocked when Andrew flinched. "Something isn't right here!" she told herself as she took him by a hand and towed him across to the treatment room, pausing only to unlock the door. She let the door close behind them without a second thought. The door was self-closing and locking, protection for the medicines, bandages, etc. She pulled him to a stop and with nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt and opened his trousers.

The girl saw the bruises and began to suspect Andrew was not hurt playing in any baseball game.

"Come on, none of that shy garbage!" She said when he tried to stop her. "Who was that sexy girl helping you with a corset every day two weeks ago?" She gasped as she slid the shirt free. Both shoulders and both biceps were masses of bruise marks. The almost too-fragile forearms also had bruises. A very close examination of his face showed artfully applied makeup concealed bruises on both sides of his face. She recognized the pattern.

A little over two years ago, before she had her growth spurt, she often saw these same bruises in her mirror. Her big brother Jerry, demonstrating male superiority, would force her to her knees in front of him. "To teach you the proper place for a female," he would say. "Is on her knees, in front of a man." Knowing her brother’s reputation of abusing kids who were different from the norm, she realized he had had something to do with this.

Carefully Cheryl unwound the gauze, but had to stop because of the dried blood that had soaked through the gauze pads protecting the wounds. She warned him that it would take a while and that it might hurt. "Listen here, girl, you and I both know this didn’t happen in any baseball game! Now, you wanna just tell me what happened, or do I add a few more bruises while beating it out of you?"

Sheltered by Cheryl's comforting presence, Andy was unable to contain it longer. He needed to tell someone. He broke down, hanging onto the waist of his life preserver Cheryl, while sobs wrenched from his heart, wracked his small. Lithe body. The girl gently stroke his hair and murmured quietly until Andrew's death grip on her eased. She knew some sort of major trauma had affected her swimming buddy.

Cautiously, she disengaged and by gently asking, learned that he had been in the mall, wearing a dress, and had been recognized. Through gentle questioning about the bruises, Cheryl obtained a very clear picture of what had happened. She had continued to work on his knees as he gasped out the brutal sordid details. The guy had bullied Andy out of the mall. After putting the boy in fear of severe injury or death, the guy had forced him to his knees and orally raped him.

She could see that the injuries to his knees after being properly cleaned and dressed, would probably be as painful as all get out for the next hour or so, but by morning, would probably be almost unnoticeable. Cheryl was having problems. She was angry, so angry that her gentle hands were shaking as she swabbed out bits of grass and sand from the lacerated skin. By the time she applied dressings and Got Andrew into his pants and shoes, she was ready to kill whomever it was who did this to her gentle, friendly swimming partner.

The pain from the recently dressed knees that she had just bandaged precluded his wearing long pants. Telling him to just sit there a moment, she went to he locker room and took her spare shorts from her Adidas and hurried back. With little difficulty they easily went on over the bandages and would not rub against the very tender wounds.

As she started applying warm compresses to the bruises, she was shocked when Andrew started telling her about his love of wearing girl's clothing. He started telling her about his uncertainties, his feelings about maybe really being a girl, and how part of him seemed to like the penetration, his terror of being considered a queer.

"Cheryl, what really gets me most is that I liked the way doing it felt right!" He gazed at her with a strange light in his eyes. "Not only that, I liked the way that it tasted, too."

"So?" she asked him.

"So, does that make me a queer?"

"No, Andy, I don’t think so."

"I really don’t want you and the other girls to think I am a fairy, or something, Cheryl."

"Oh, no way, Andy!" Andrew looked at her, not quite sure of anything any longer.

"All us girls give head!"

"You all do?"

"Yup! And if the truth were known, we all like it." She was exaggerating, but it was to help Andrew, so she wasn’t going to mind the extra "Hail Marys" the lie was going to cost her. "And when you find your Mister Right, my girl, so will you."

"Huh?" he chirped sadly. "But I’m not a girl."

"Oh, Andy, this is me! I saw you nearly naked everyday, when I helped you with that corset. You are more girl than boy and you should accept and embrace your girlhood. Admit it, you like running with the rest of us Gypsies, and you enjoy the attention the boys give you, just like the rest of us girls do."

"Okay, yes, I do like all that," he agreed, then whined, "But I’m not really a girl, so giving head and enjoying makes me a …"

"Now you listen to me, MISS Winslowe! None of us on the team think of you as anything but a girl with a bigger clit! And as far as giving head …"

Cheryl then began to explain about oral sex actually being a loving, positive action and helped Andy to calm down, and then told him to get back into his shirt. They were just finishing and Andy had picked up his shirt to put it on when the door of the treatment room opened suddenly and Frank, in a hurry to get a stretcher for a downed player, entered. Frank noticed the bruises and demanded information. Andy buttoned his shirt and headed out the door, and with a small shrug, said, "Ask Jerry Tanner!"

*******************

Last night had been some kind of fun. Tanner felt his manly pulse and throb at the memory. "Dammit, I shuda made th’ slut gimme a blowjob!"

The folks had been next door when Cheryl had finished her shower. Horny, as always, he had waited for her in the hall just outside the bathroom door. When she had stepped into the hall wearing just a ruby-colored towel, he had put her in an arm lock and frog marched her into his room. A quick wrap with a bootlace had secured her wrists behind her. "Yer gittin’ ta be quite a bundle, Sis," he’d snarled and tossed aside the thick towel and then had gazed hungrily at her ripening curves. "I think you need another lesson or two, though. I dun tol’ yuh ‘nuff times where a girl’s place is when she’s with a man!" Using her hair as a handle, he had forced her to her knees in front of him.

"You’re an asshole, Jerry! And don’t try to tell me it is just girls you do this to! I cleaned up the mess you made of Andy’s knees today!"

"Yeah, an’e was a gud, li’l ol’ cocksucker, too!" He had then proceeded to tell her about catching that little pantywaist Winslowe in a dress and all about how he had him suck his cock. Tanner had then debated, out loud, about making Cheryl suck his cock. He had really enjoyed the terror in her expression and after about 15 or 20 minutes of waving his cock in her face, he had released her with a violent shove into the hallway.

While she had scampered away to her room, she had warned, "You just be watching your back, little BROTHER mine! Frank knows what you did to Andy, and I am betting he is going to be looking for you to ask you about it!"

And now, it seemed Frank really had found out what he had done to his little buddy and was not at all happy. What Jerry couldn’t understand was why a guy like Frank would even bother with a little geek faggot like Andrew Winslowe?

"Jeezus!" A big guy like Frank could beat him to a bloody pulp and never break a sweat! "Who’d’ve ever figured th’ damned li’l faggot’d say anything?"

Jerry went down to the adult bookstore after class, as an act of bravado. His sister, Cheryl had passed the word to him between the 4^th and 5^th period classes that Frank, Little-Andrew-the-Swimmer's buddy was on the warpath, looking for Jerry. Something about Andrew being blackmailed. Frank wanted to know what Jerry had to do with it. Jerry was beginning to get a sore neck from looking over his shoulder now.

As soon as he stepped into the store, he remembered that Frank often came to visit his uncle who lived on this block. Maybe getting something from the store would not be such a good idea. Without so much as a glance at the bawdy bookracks, Tanner had turned about and went back out on the street.

Half way down the block, he spotted Frank. Only Jerry’s timely dodging into the alley opening beside the store had prevented Frank spotting him. The bad part was that there were only two ways out, and one lead back into Frank’s path. The other was over the high fence that now closed the far end of the alley to form a cul-de-sac. Jerry eyed the fence and saw that several large wooden crates had been stacked to form an impromptu stairway to the top of the fence.

"Well, somebody up there is on my side, it seems," he smiled mirthlessly and turned his eyes very briefly heavenward and then moved along behind a rundown building. It was just one of the many old buildings that lined both sides of the alley. A sea of debris overflowing trashcans and dumpsters littered the broken pavement in front of him. The alley was empty of traffic, but sounds of life filled the gloomy late afternoon shadows. The youth knew he was not alone. Rats squealed and squirmed in piles of garbage bags. Loud music blared from a stereo sitting in an open window that had heavy wire mesh welded to the steel frame. In the building adjacent to the one he crossed behind, he could hear a man and a woman arguing heatedly. He moved quickly toward his goal.

Moments later he stood precariously atop the wobbly, loosely stacked boxes. He was going to have a goodly jump to make it the other side. "Well, it’s only a six-foot fence!" Jerry tightened up and sprang for the other side. It might have been a perfect hurdle, tuck, and roll, except that when he pushed off, the law of action-reaction took over and the top box pushed back as he pushed forward, and from there things went rapidly downhill.

Jerry Tanner saw the top of the chain link fence and knew it was going to hurt when he landed on it.

A wave of sheer agony overwhelmed him as he slammed straddle onto the top of the wire. The twists of the galvanized wire pierced his stomach, chest and groin. The twists holding the chain link to the posts gave way when he landed and his momentum carried him downward, causing about five feet of the rusty chain link fence top to rip at him from his groin to his ribcage, before the fence threw him off. The agony tore a wild scream from his throat, and then he succumbed to the blackness suddenly surrounding him

*********************

Andrew went to school every day, but on the weekends, and, as often as was possible he became Andrea. Frank said nothing untoward about his little buddy’s feminization, seemed not to notice any of the boy’s obvious effeminate gestures, but his eyes never strayed very far from his delectable very girlish form.

Frank had met him as Andrea several times, but knowing this charming girl was his best buddy, another guy, underneath, though he was desperately tempted to do otherwise, he made no serious effort to actually date him as a girl.

 

Sunday, December 21^st was a day that Andrew was sure he would remember. Friday, for the first time in a long time, Sharla had gone out with Naomi and Jenny. Last night she had grabbed an overnight bag and split again, saying that she probably would not be back until sometime late Sunday evening.

Just for the heck of it, he called the national time service and was setting the digital clock in the kitchen. He had unplugged it for a while last night when he was cleaning the counter. He reset it to 8:36 and then sat back with the phone to check and see how close he had got it. "At the tone after ten seconds of silence it will be 8:37." He looked at the calendar Sharla had posted on the Refrigerator door and noticed that today was marked Solstice. He heard a beep and felt a sharp, short shock. A short gasp later he looked around, but could not figure where the shock had come from.

"Oh well, Momma and Daddy probably would not be down until lunch or later." It never occurred to him to consider why he had just used the feminine terms in referring to his parents as he checked to see that plenty of OJ was mixed, and then grabbed a jacket and headed out for a walk. "Oh darn, someone is going to be awfully upset," he thought as he spotted a large cardboard box sitting forlornly on the edge of the street, almost in the center of their driveway.

Almost skipping, he moved to check out the box at the end of the driveway. It was just a common ordinary cardboard box, like the ones ten reams of computer paper came in. It was sealed with packing tape, and after he had checked all sides, he could not find any shipping labels or invoice. "Must be someone’s lost some Christmas Decorations," he thought. "I'd better take it inside and see if there is anything in the box to indicate where it belongs."

"Hmmm, it's not too heavy, so it can’t be paper. And the bottom is just barely damp, so it has to have just landed here a few minutes ago." He shook the box experimentally. "Huummm! It doesn’t even rattle, so it must be well packed." The kitchen looked somehow too neat, and some quiet compulsion urged, so he carried the box into his room. After checking the bottom again, he spread a towel, to protect his pretty new bedspread, centered it on his bed. Going to his desk, he plucked a small knife out of the drawer, and wriggled back to cut the tape.

The lid literally popped apart, surprising him. He lost his balance and landed softly on his saucy, shapely rear end in the middle of the floor. He had grabbed the edge of the box as he went backwards. As a result, the contents, a veritable avalanche of soft lingerie in a rainbow of delicious colors suddenly flowed over and around him. His eyes widened, first in surprise, then in sheer delight!

The box had been stuffed with fine, exquisite, lingerie, and some of it was very sexy. Silky slips, half-slips, camisoles, panties, bras, girdles, frills-and-lace garter belts, and seamed stockings, all in fine satin, silk, cotton, nylon and rayon. And there, right in front of his slim-fingered hand, was a gorgeous, matching bra and panty set in a sinfully delightful electric blue. There was a delicate black lace--just too divine—trimming each garment. Another incredibly powerful, impossible-to-ignore compulsion urged him into impossibly female action.

A few seconds had him stripped to his sensational buff beauty. Almost frantically the boy-girl pulled the black lace trimmed blue French bikini panty into place, very carefully tucking Little Andrew back and out of sight. He had learned to do that when he had started dressing in feminine clothing last June. The panties felt delightfully female. With fingers quivering he picked up the matching bra, slender fingers tracing the lines with anticipation. A tag said Princess 32 A. To his amazement it fit perfectly and proved to him, and anyone he might encounter, he truly had breasts.

Unable to fathom how all this could be happening, he then picked up a simply too-frilly garter belt he had noticed just before putting on the bra. Disbelievingly, he opened it and glancing at the tag, saw Princess 26. It slipped around his widening hips and fit perfectly. Giggling, he adjusted the straps to their full extension to lace them under the panty and depending down his legs from the leg openings. Without the slightest hesitation, he reached into the box and found a package of sheer, top-of-the-thigh, suntan, sandal foot nylons.

Almost frantic, he then ripped the package and literally savored the silken sensations as he slipped them up shapely legs to the tops of his firm thighs. With all his previous experience, he had no problem fastening the delicately webbed tops of the stockings to the garter tabs. Shivering deliciously, pausing briefly to allow breath and heartbeat to return to normal, he had then walked around all around his bedroom, softly caressing the panties and bra. "Oh, gawd, they feel so perfect on me!" He sighed happily, and realized the snug embrace of the nylons, being tugged by every step was just too delicious to describe.

"No! Something’s wrong! Something’s missing." There on the floor before him was one more piece of shiny light blue material with delicate black lace trim. With a nearly uncontrollable desire, the boy-becoming girl snatched it up and held it before him. Except for the lace across the front and up the shoulder straps, it looked like a miniature tank top. He didn’t have to look at the tag to know it said Princess 34, nylon/lycra. Tiny quivers of purely girlish delight raced up and down his spine after he had slipped it over his head and pulled it into place. "There, now everything is perfect!"

********************

On Tuesday and Saturday, all summer, he had been dressing completely as a woman and had gained quite a bit of skill with makeup and hair styling. The girls on the swim team and their friends greatly valued his advice when he made suggestions about clothing, accessories, make up and hair styling. "Darn it all! I still can’t get over how RIGHT I feel when I dress as a girl!" He stood very still, gazing at his reflection in the full-length mirror again, but this time actually considering his possible future. "Something tells me I really need to talk to Sharla! I feel too good as Andrea to ignore this any longer!" He had discovered that thinking as Andrea, instead of Andrew, made acting and reacting as a woman much easier. He had come to love being Andrea, especially since he could not really satisfy Sylvia as Andrew.

The first time he had appeared in public as Andrea, had been at the Company Halloween Party. The company party had been on Saturday, before Halloween. On Tuesday, the real Halloween, he had raided the nice assortment stored in the closet of his old basement bedroom, for a nice skirt, blouse, heels, and jacket. Then, as Andrea, he had cruised the mall. It had been a blast. Every time since then, except for that run in with Jerry Tanner, becoming Andrea had been great, and he had been out at least one time every week as Andrea. He had discovered it was not so much what he was wearing, but what his attitude was. And if the truth were admitted, his whole attitude was now Andrea’s.

And with all that said, and done, nothing he had ever experienced before had felt as right as wearing these beautiful lingerie items. With no further questions concerning ownership, Andrew, no it was Andrea now, carefully stored the new treasures he’d found in his drawers, and vowed to benefit from, and enjoy to the fullest, this surprise gift of a girl’s most intimate clothing.

Somehow, he knew, he needed to talk to Sharla.

*******************

A tired but jubilant Sharla arrived home to discover an anxious Andrew waiting for her. She promised him that after she bathed and dressed, she would be his for the entire evening. Something was very different about Andrew. Sharla soon realized that he was suffused with low intensity Blue Energy laced with fine threads of Red.

After getting cleaned up and dressed in matching thong, peignoir and negligee with sky-hi mules, Sharla opened "La Caisse" and removed the second Diary. She was ecstatic; she could read it. Unwilling to release it, she carried the book with her and settled at the kitchen table to find out what had Andrew so up tight.

Slowly, haltingly, Andrew explained about finding the box, then, more excitedly, telling of putting on the lingerie, and how good he felt while wearing such filmy flimsies.

"Sharla, don’t expect me to explain it, I can’t. Just believe me when I say it feels right for me to wear lingerie! Please?"

Under Sharla’s gentle prodding, Andrew soon opened up the floodgates and poured out the story of the past year. Holding back his tears, he told her how he felt after his pneumonia bout, and how his lungs and body had been completely healed, showing no sign of scar tissue. About how weird he had felt, being almost completely hairless, not a single hair on his arms, armpits, or legs.

"Gad, Sharla, all the guys, and the girls on the team, had to shave. I didn’t!"

He went on to explain how he had kept up the swimming to have an excuse for hairless legs.

"Then that didn’t seem to matter much once I started hanging out with the girls."

"The girls all liked you, huh?"

"They all just treated me like I belonged there with them." He chuckled softly and said, "and it didn’t matter to me all that much." He looked at her a bit dismayed. "You know, I didn’t realize until just now how little it had mattered to be treated as one of the girls on that summer job. Or how good it felt when Sylvia had me dress in all that feminine finery as part of our lovemaking all summer.

A powerful shudder shook him and he looked at Sharla again with an expression of dismay. "Sharla, it felt perfect to wear a dress and makeup that whole week before Halloween, and all the times I’ve gone out dressed since then!"

Taking him in her arms, she waited until the shudder passed to released him and brushed his hair back from his cheeks. "God, Andrew, I am so sorry I have …"

"I never came to you because I didn’t want you to know …" he looked up at her again. "Darn it, sis, do you have any idea how confusing it is to think of your best buddy the same way the other girls on the swim team think about their boy friends. Sis, I have dreams of Frank making out with me like any of the other girls."

During this emotional purge, Sharla had glanced at the calendar on the refrigerator door.

"Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like to actually want to do to Frank, my best buddy for God’s sake, the same things the other girls talk about doing for their guys?"

Today was the Winter Solstice. She remembered the flash of Blue Energy around Andrew on the Autumn Equinox. A bit more prodding and she discovered that her suspicions about someone digging in her room had been correct. On the Summer Solstice, Andrew had been trying to discover the "Secrets" of "La Caisse."

"Honest, Sharla, I just wanted to know what was so great about a musty old wooden box full of ragged old books with blank pages."

Something clicked. Sharla grabbed the Diary and started searching for the passage where Misty Dawn described having to put emergency wards on the box and books. Andrew stood at her shoulder and read the book along with her. "Those aren’t the same books, are they, Sharla?" She found it starting at the top of a left hand page. "They look new and have words in them?" She did not realize that Andrew was reading over her shoulder until he stopped her from turning the page. The book worked for Andrew the same way it worked for Naomi last summer. As long as Sharla was touching the page, he could read. When she removed contact with the page, he saw it as blank. "Gee, sis, this is so kewl! "They read through the description of the preparation of the books, the box, and the protective wards twice more. "Yes, it is. It has been a while since we studied together, hasn’t it, Dude?"

Sharla closed the book and sat lost in thought while Andrew got glasses of milk and a plate of cookies. "Ha! There’s not a whole lot of DUDE left in the package, sis."

Taking a seat facing his sister, he said in a lifeless tone, "According to that, I am going to be a real girl in just a few months and a witch when I am twenty-one." The boy-girl looked at his sister and shook his head. "It’s not ‘will I or won’t I’ is it?" He laughed without humor. "Heck, I always thought magic was something for fiction, a storyteller’s tool. But, the way that book acts and with what has happened to me, it makes me think it might be real." They finished the milk and cookies in silence. "Me? A witch?"

Andrew rinsed the glasses and plate and placed them in the dishwasher. Bracing himself against the kitchen counter, a resolute expression on his too-pretty, too feminine features, Andrew announced. "Mom, Dad, Janine, and most of the people I know understand I am changing into a girl. Heck, most everyone already sees me as a girl. Your book says I will change completely. Since that is what is going to happen anyway, I think, starting, as of right now, I am Andrea, your little sister."

Andrea now had a complete wardrobe of her own and Andrew had been dressed as Andrea ever since talking with Sharla. She was nervous when Sharla suggested on Saturday morning that he might as well tell his buddy Frank and their parents and sister Janine about his driven need to be Andrea full time, and his desire to dress full time as a girl. Andrea thought it would be easier for everyone concerned, and, Andrew had to agree.

When he told his parents, Momma said that he looked prettier with only a little make up and actually it surprised him when Daddy agreed with him. Then Janine redid his nail extensions and Momma styled his hair for him.

Andrea dressed carefully, then went to tell Frank of her decision.

"Andrew?"

Frank's wonderful smile lit up the entire room, and when Andrew looked at him across the short distance separating them, he knew his best friend was seeing him as a young pretty girl of Irish descent, her reddish hair framing her pretty face.

"No, Frank, I am Andrea, but you can still call me Andi."

By the end of February, Andrew had well shaped almost B-cup breasts and though he thought they were wonderful, so full and torpedo-shaped, just like Janine's. It was wonderful not to have to hide them from the kids at school. His hips and bottom had also developed, becoming quite girlish, and naked, Andrew now had a very feminine narrow-waisted figure. Since his declaration to the family just before Christmas, he had been able to wear dresses fitted to show his blossoming figure off to best advantage. The huge fluff of pubic hair that had grown over the past months in area between his legs now completely hid the tiny stub his penis had shrunk to become.

With a final critical look at the girl reflected there in the mirror, he came to a decision. A final decision to become, as fully as possible, the female he was becoming.

"Why should I wait? Why should Frank have to wait?" he asked the girl reflected there.

 

"Because I’m not that kind of girl!" the girl answered haughtily.

He laughed in a caustic manner. "As if I were a virgin…"

 

"That was not my fault!"

"But, I did enjoy it!" he replied, nastily.

The face of the girl in the mirror became an expression of resignation. She knew there was no talking her way out of what was going to happen, then she realized she wanted it to happen, if the truth were known.

"And I want more," he chuckled and turned toward the telephone beside his bed.

"Hi, Frank," he said when the connection had been made. After a bit of casual chatter, he said lightly, "Since Mr. and Mrs. Old Fogey and Miss Super Brat are all going to be out this evening, how ‘bout comin’ over for burgers and fries? We can fire up the Nintendo and get in a few games afterward."

"Sure. I’ll be over…’bout 6:30, maybe 7:00." They chatted a bit longer, then broke the connection and Andrew began to get Andrea ready.

First, using the proper apparatus as Sharla had taught him, he very thoroughly cleaned her insides, then a long, leisurely bath of languid pleasure in a mass of bubbles and oil to soften the girlishly smooth skin, made the outside squeaky clean. With intent and a bit of malice, he dressed Andrea in a naughty little thong of green satin with black lace trim and a matching bra he had discovered in the bottom of the box he’d found a few days before Christmas. Until today, he had thought Andrea would never wear the ultra-sexual set. It fit perfectly and delightfully matched the green of the eyes made wide and innocent by the makeup he applied carefully.

Though it was by far not the first time Frank had seen his li’l buddy as Andrea, from the moment he opened the door and greeted him, with a kiss far and above the normal perfunctory peck on the cheek—Andy had been doing that a lot since the Halloween bash out at the country club—he had sensed something different about the boy-girl. And while they had worked together in the kitchen many times before, tonight, when whey had been bustling about fixing burgers and fries, Frank had caught himself feeling like he was working with a real girl.

Of course that sexy see-though nylon, lime green pullover blouse, displaying prominently the "B" breasts his li’l buddy had so suddenly sported just after Christmas, helped to program his thinking of him as a girl. That short, soft-pleated Kelly green, full skirt swishing about those incredibly girlish legs also demanded he see all-girl-and-nothing-but-girl bouncing playfully about in the kitchen as they worked and ate. "Hell, she’s even wearing stockings tonight," he realized at some point. "God, you don’t suppose…"

By the time they had cleaned up and finished in the kitchen, Frank knew just exactly what she wanted and she knew what he wanted.

When he said, "I set the Nintendo up in my bedroom," Andrew chuckled inwardly; Andrea was no longer trying to maintain even a semblance of propriety. Frank followed him and he could almost feel his eyes on his sweetly shaped bottom all the way. The teens knew there was not going to be any Nintendo played by the time they reached the center of the bedroom.

Frank told the girl before him to stop.

Andrea stood quietly in place as if awaiting an order.

Frank walked up to her from behind. "Andi, you really don’t want to play Nintendo, do you?"

She shook her head, unable to say it aloud.

"Stand still."

Andy felt a tiny smile curl the corners of his mouth, a small tremor rippled through him while he obeyed perfectly.

Frank reached around her, began working on her nipples through the front of her shirt and bra. When she moaned softly, he reached down, grabbed the bottom of the shirt and pulled it off over her head. Andy sighed ruefully as Frank casually tossed the fragile, expensive blouse on the floor behind him.

Then he removed her bra.

He had worn it purposely to please the larger boy.

Frank tossed the expensive Princess Line bra, a sexy wisp of satin and lace, as casually atop the blouse, then fumbled a moment at the button and zipper of the sexy swingy skirt. In the next moment, it was a misshapen pool of green around her trim ankles. Though tempted--he sensed Andy would object strenuously—he made no effort to remove the too-damned-sexy thong defining Andrea’s so fine, so shapely buttocks. He smoothed a palm over them, cupped and squeezed their firmness until Andrea moaned again.

Breathing heavily, Frank stepped in front of her; he stared with masculine desire at her naked breasts. "God, Andi, they’re gorgeous!" he told her then began to devour them, kissing, licking, sucking, chewing first the right then the left then back again.

When Frank felt her shudder violently and groan, he told her, "Get on your knees."

Only slightly surprised Frank watched with some small male satisfaction as she quickly obeyed, dropping down, looking up into his eyes, and waiting. He looked into her eyes. Impossibly, he could clearly see her hunger. Yet, Andrea seemed to be waiting for something. "Open my pants," he told her finally.

With fingers trembly and clumsy, the boy-girl worked open the fly and drew forth the heavy object concealed within. Frank’s manhood was very hard and standing straight out from the opening. The ruby crown brushed against the boy-girl’s full, crimson lips.

Frank watched in fascination as her tongue slipped out of her mouth, flicking over her lower lip.

"Suck it", he said.

A wise smile played over his lips when she opened her mouth and easily took the full length of his masculine spear into her mouth; his hands moved up to the outsides of her cheeks, pressed them in against his dick. Warm, wet saliva lubricated his length and he pumped his hips frontward and backward. A throaty groan escaped him as she used her hot tongue on the crown of his manly spike.

He knew he would be unable to stand much of this.

He told her to stop.

She didn’t stop.

He tried to back away.

She wouldn’t allow that and suddenly they both moaned with the pleasure of his losing this modern day "Battle Of The Bulge".

********************

By the middle of March, it looked as if she actually had vagina lips, and standing naked in front of the mirror it was very hard to tell any difference between him and a real girl.

After school Andi changed into something more casual. This was another thing else he was rapidly getting used to, changing clothes more than once a day. It seemed girls were forever changing outfits during the course of one day. As a boy, he’d climb into his shorts, or jeans, whatever he was going to wear that day, and stay dressed like that till he went to bed, unless he was going out of an evening. Now it was one outfit for this and one outfit for that, not that he minded too much. It was a learning experience, and he really was getting a much better idea about coordinating clothes.

Yesterday afternoon had been a bit of a problem. All the Schools and most of the public buildings had been evacuated. Seems the State Police had stopped a guy for speeding. When they called in the identification, the FBI had gotten involved. They guy had a box full of biological letter bombs or something. Anyhow, today, Tuesday, and maybe tomorrow would be off days for the schools. They would be the last facilities inspected.

Nine months had passed since the magic had first zapped Andrew into the female track, and Andi was taking it easy. At about ten hearing Sharla in the kitchen, Andi decided to join her. After a quick brush of the mane of auburn hair and rinsing of the face, the boy/girl examined the presentation in the mirror. Through the transparent baby doll, could be seen the definite breasts, too big for an "A" but not big enough for a "B" without help. Through these sheer panties, one could make out the remnants of Li'l Andrew. The li'l feller was too small to tuck, but when held in place by just a pair of panties, the tiny nubbin never showed, even through tight shorts or a girl’s swimsuit.

"Mornin’, Sis. You got enough dough to make me a waffle too?" Andi asked and braced wide, shapely hips against the breakfast table. "Sheesh, it's already 10:30. You want me to help you with that computer installation thing this afternoon or is that office closed too?"

Andrea felt a mild shock and looked around to catch her sister staring at her. "What's up with you, Sis?" Andrea asked.

Sharla had felt it. The season’s changing with the equinox. As it rolled over her, she felt a twitch and saw ANDREW flooded with blue energy change to ANDREA. Hips propped on the table, Andrea presented Sharla with a well-defined cleft under the sheer panties. Andrea's full B or maybe bigger breasts stretched the bodice of the baby doll she was wearing.

"Sis, if you are going to wear that tight of a nightgown, the least you could do is to wear a housecoat when you leave your room." Sharla said. "Now, scat go get dressed, and I'll fix you a waffle and some juice. Then we’ll go install some more computers..."

---- The End ----

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Christy Lake. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.