Back to School - Woman's Work

by Jennifer White

 

It was John's last summer of freedom. He was done with high school, and now he was going to have to do something to make a living. He wanted to attend college, but with just a single mother raising him, he was trapped in one of those "in between" states. Too poor too afford it. Too much income to get much financial help. Unable to get a deferred student loan.

So after the summer, he was going to have to settle down, and get a job somewhere. All of the best jobs of course required a college degree. But he couldn't get one, so he would have to settle for something lower paying. Something less desirable. Manual labor, waiting tables, something that he didn't really want to do. But without an education, he didn't have too many options.

His mother was very supportive, and tried to console him, but he knew that she was disappointed that he wouldn't be going to school. He had been a decent student, getting good grades (when he decided to apply himself). He wanted to be a success for his mother. But now he was going to disappoint her, becoming just an average laborer.

 

At home, John did his fair share of chores around the house. His mother did the cooking and the cleaning, while he did most of the other things. Taking out the trash, and so on. One day, his mother came to talk to him.

"You know that you're not going to live with me forever. Some day soon, you'll have your own place."

"I know ma" he said.

"So this summer, I want you to start learning some new things. We will start with doing the dishes. I know that you've always done the trash, but we're going to trade jobs. I'll take out the trash from now on, and you'll clean the dishes."

"I don't want to clean the dishes!" said John.

He didn't dare say that it was because he viewed that chore as "women's work".

"When you're on your own, you will need to know how to do it. So lets start now, shall we?"

She proceeded to show him what to do. It was simple, really. The only hard part was making sure to not use an abrasive like steel wool on surfaces that could get scratched. Within a couple of days, he was doing the dishes, and doing a great job of it. And by the end of the week, he thought nothing more of it.

 

"You are doing very good on the dishes" said his mother one day. "Now it is time for you to learn about laundry."

"Mom, that's a girl's job!" said John.

"What if you're not married when you get your own place? I'm not going to come over and do your clothes for you! Remember how your friend Bill came over, after he got his own place, and how his white shirt had turned blue-gray? Do you want to ruin your clothes when you learn things on your own?"

"I guess not" he said.

"I didn't think so. So lets get to work."

She taught him the very simple things first: separate whites from colors. Colors, cold water, no bleach. Whites, hot water, with bleach.

"You see your white T-shirt?" said his mother.

"Yes. It's a white shirt. I'll put it in with the other stuff."

"No!" she said.

"Why not?"

"That black logo on the front. If you bleach it, you'll fade that right out. Here's what you do. Whites like your socks or your underwear can go in a load with bleach. But whites with colors on them, like your T-shirt here, do a load with them, using hot water, but use the dry bleach."

It wasn't all that complex, and within a week he was washing and folding the clothes like an old pro. He thought his mother was ready to move on to the next topic, but he was in for a surprise as to what she would do next.

* * *

"You have done a great job so far" said his mother. "But you've only washed certain clothes. Now it is time for you to learn some more skills. Lets talk about washing a bra."

"Why do I have to learn about *that*?" he said.

"John, just listen to me. This is very important for you to know. All right?"

"Okay" he said, clearly disappointed.

"Very good. Now listen. A cotton jog bra like this one, we can just wash with the other whites. But do you feel how soft and silky this black one is?"

"Yes" he said, his hand trembling as he ran it over the shiny soft fabric.

"If you use the washer on this, it will wear out too quickly. Same with these lacy panties. Feel how fine and delicate this fabric is."

Again, his hand trembled a little as he ran it across the smooth soft silky panty, with all the lacy trim.

"These require special care, if you want them to last. Regular cotton panties, you can do with the regular wash. But nice things like this, you want to hand wash, then air dry."

She showed him how to fill the sink, hand wash the panties and bra, then hang them up to dry. She nodded as he did it, but it was clear that the female undergarments intimidated him. He touched them as if he was scared.

"Now fold up the panties" said his mother the next day, as he got ready to put away the dry clothes.

Again, he displayed an aversion to them.

"Don't be afraid of them!" she scolded. "They won't bite you."

"But mom, these are girl's clothes" said John.

John had some dates in high school, but he was somewhat shy, and had never gotten very far with a girl. So female clothes really intimidated him.

"You need to get over this fear of girl's things. Go put these in *your* dresser. If you get used to having them around, you won't be so scared of them anymore."

"But mom!" he protested.

"No. Put them in your drawer. When you come back, we'll talk about how to take care of skirts and dresses when you do the wash. Now go!"

* * *

After a week, John was hoping that he wasn't going to anger his mom by freaking out when he had to touch her clothes. Every time he had opened up his underwear drawer for the past week, there were the bra and panties. Every time he looked for a shirt, there was a cami top. And hanging next to his jeans, there were a couple of skirts. Pantyhose in his sock drawer, and a dress next to his best outfit. He prayed that none of his friends would catch a glimpse of what was in his closet at home. They would think he was weird!

 

One day while folding the laundry, his mother was there, and she shook her head at him.

"You still act like you're afraid of the bra" she said. "It's just a piece of clothes! Why are you so intimidated by it?"

"I'm not intimidated" said John.

His mother put her hands on her hips. That was never a good sign.

"You act brave, but look how you're touching your bra. You act like it is a diseased rat or something. Now look. A bra is just a garment, like an undershirt, but it is used to support a female's breasts. It is nothing more than that, and nothing to be scared about."

"I'm not scared" he said.

"Then put it on."

"What?" said John. "You want me to put a bra on? No way!"
"I thought you weren't scared of it" said his mother, in a taunting voice.

"I'm not. But I'm not going to wear a bra!"

"You *are* scared. I knew it" she said.

"I tell you, a piece of clothes does not scare me."

"Then prove it. Put it on."

"I will!" he said, very upset now. How stupid could his mother be? He took off his shirt, pulled the stupid bra on, and tried to fasten it in the back. It was hard to do! It took him several minutes, looking over his shoulder into the mirror, before he was able to get into it properly.

"There, are you happy now?"

"Yes" she said. "Go ahead, put your shirt back on."

John went to take the bra off.

"No, no" said his mother. "Keep it on dear."

"Under my shirt?"

"Yes. That is how you wear a bra. It goes underneath."

"But mom!"

"Just do it. Please don't argue with me. It's too upsetting."

"Sorry" said John, as he pulled his shirt over the top.

Now he was wearing a bra. He hoped it didn't show through.

"And now the panties" said his mother.

"I've already folded them" he replied.

"No dear. I mean put them on too."

He knew better than to argue, so John pulled down his trousers, took off his boxers, and replaced them with panties. He had never worn anything so soft and smooth before in is life. They felt so weird under his pants! He was wearing panties and a bra now, and his face turned red, from just thinking of it.

"Now today, we are going to learn about vacuuming" said his mother.

"Yes mom" said John.

Little did he realize it at the time, but from that day forward, when he did chores around the house, his mother was going to make him wear panties, bras, and more. He was already storing them in his dresser, and now they were to become just one more part of his daily routine when he got up in the morning and got himself dressed for yet another day of summer vacation.

* * *

John was washing the windows. The black women's pants felt funny on him, because they didn't have any crotch, like his jeans did. And they were so high, leaving his ankles and lower leg exposed. He had to shave them today, so they didn't look so silly showing with all that hair.

He pulled at the tank top. It kept moving around, showing the bra he wore underneath.

"Mom, I hate this top. It won't stay in place" he said.

"Here, let me make an adjustment" she replied.

John stood there, as she stuffed two handfuls of unmatched socks into each cup of his bra. Now the bra was filled out, and it looked like he had breasts. Just like a girl. And with the new shape on his chest, the tank top fit properly, and would stop moving around so much.

"I can't go around like this!" he protested.

"Yes you can. Now get back to the windows, and stop thinking about your boobs. You're acting just like a young girl, obsessing over the her bust size. Just get back to work."

John didn't want to complain, if that was going to make him be 'like a girl'. So he went back to washing the windows. It felt so weird to have fake boobs on his chest! He was so self-conscious about it, that he constantly blushed. He was used to the panties and bra now, but the other clothes were a bit of a departure. And the boobs. He didn't like them one bit. But from that day forward, he would never dress up again without them.

In fact, the next morning, when he went to his dresser, he found that his mother had purchased a realistic looking pair of fake boobs, with a note on them instructing him that he needed to wear them inside his bra. Or else. He sighed and put them in. They jiggled when he moved, and he blushed again.

 

"Now before we start dusting today Jenna, we are going to do your nails."

"Jenna?" said John.

"Yes Jenna. You."

"I'm John!" he protested. "Your son John."

"You are my daughter, Jenna, and I will not tolerate this crazy talk from you young lady."

"Young lady? Mom, what's going on! Why are you doing this?"

"I'm teaching you how to take care of your own place when you move out Jenna. We've been through all that before. Now come here, so I can teach you how to do your nails."

John was too stunned to really think of what to do. He couldn't just run out on the street; he was dressed up like a girl. Today his outfit consisted of a skirt and a skimpy top. One by one, his mom had removed his boy clothes, and replaced them with girl clothes. Today was the first time he had tried a skirt, since he didn't like the pants very much. Now here he was, having his nails done, and his mother calling him Jenna, and calling him her daughter!

He knew he had to get away, but he didn't know when or how he could do that. He would have to sneak out in the middle of the night. But how? All his clothes were girl's clothes now. If he wasn't on the street, in the city, at night, dressed up as a girl, well, no good could come of that.

So he was trapped now, as his mother turned him more and more into a girl. And there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, John learned how to cook, and more about how to clean. He also learned more about making himself look like a girl. He was wearing makeup now, every day. He was learning to walk in high heels. His legs were completely shaved now, since he was wearing shorter and shorter skirts.

He now had to glue on his fake boobs, so he had to shave his chest, since it hurt too much to remove them if he had chest hair. And he shaved his armpits now as well, since some of the skimpy tops he wore made him look silly with hair under his arms.

His mother hadn't called him by his proper name in weeks. He was always 'Jenna' now. She referred to him as her daughter. She. Her. Anything feminine. He felt more and more upset about all of it. Why was his mother trying to turn him into a girl? Why wouldn't she stop? Why wouldn't she listen to his protests?

He was still trying to figure a way out, but he couldn't think of any way to do it. He snuck around while she was gone, but he couldn't find where his old clothes were. He was wearing a wig now too, until his own hair grew out long enough to get a feminine hair style. He was trapped, living as a girl.

 

After a month of living every minute of every day as a girl, John was getting more and more used to it. He had reached the point where he no longer blushed seeing himself looking pretty in the mirror, wearing cute clothes, high heels, makeup, and the ever-present fake boobs. He didn't wake up at night anymore having nightmares about people seeing him in a bra. He was getting used to it.

His mother hadn't added anything new to his routine in a week, and he wondered what was going on. She usually added *something* small, like the earrings he now wore, or the necklace, a new color of lipstick, or something small.

Finally, he got up the courage to ask her what was really going on.

 

"Mom, listen. I've played along all summer with your little game, but I can't do this anymore. I have a life. I'm not your daughter. I'm your son John. This has to stop. Now."

"Jenna, when you're a mother yourself, you'll learn that the most important thing in the world to you, is your children. A woman would do *anything* to make life better for her children. I've sacrificed so much over the years. I didn't go out and have fun at night, I stayed here to take care of you. I didn't buy the things *I* wanted, I spent whatever extra money we had on you. I denied myself a loving partner, because I was afraid of bringing someone new into the house while you were still growing up. Do you understand that?"

John nodded.

"Now as we've talked about before, more than anything in the world, I want you to have a better life than I have had. I don't want you working as a manual laborer, or some low end job. I want you to go to college, get a degree, and become something."

"But mom, we've talked about it a million times. I can't afford it, and I can't get a scholarship. I'm stuck, and I have to go to work. It's almost September, and I can't go back to school."

"But Jenna, you *can*. There are many colleges these days that value diversity. They want to make sure that underserved parts of the community are represented. That is why you are going through all of this. So we can get you into a good school."

"Mom, there are as my women as men applying at school these days. Having me pretend to be a girl won't help me get into school."

"You're not going to pretend to be a girl to get into school."

"Well, what then?"

His mother paused, and took a deep breath.

"You are going to school as a member of a very underrepresented minority."

"What is that?"

"Transexuals."

"What!!????" said John.

"The State College is going to give you a full, free ride. You are enrolled as Jenna, and you are listed as a pre-operative transsexual. They are excited to have you."

"But mom, how can I do this?"

"All you have to do is to show up, and the rest is easy. The health center at the school will give you your female hormones, so that when you're ready, you can have your operation."

"I'm not taking female hormones!"

"But Jenna, you already are."

"What?"

"Ever since the start of summer, I have been administering them. Haven't you noticed how your face hair isn't growing as much anymore? Or how you don't get aroused very often? Your boobs are starting to bud already. Soon, they will begin to fill out, and you won't need your falsies anymore."

"Mom, no!!!!"

"You are starting to transform, day by day, even as we speak. You are becoming a woman. The female hormones are releasing the female potential in your body. Soon, you will be as much female as you are man."

"Please, stop."

"You will be at school, and live in the girl's dorm. There, you will learn more about being a girl. Every day, you will dress like a girl, act like one, think like one, and eventually, think like one. You will become one of them. one of us. A female. A girl. A woman."

"How can you do this to me?"

"You have a future now Jenna. You are leaving tomorrow for school! My little girl is going off to college!"

John ran to his room and cried. And that made him feel even worse. He was overwhelmed by emotions. His mother was turning him into a girl.

* * *

"Oh mother, what a lovely dress you are wearing" said Jenna.

"Thank you dear. Your outfit is very cute. Yellow certainly is your color."

Jenna was showing her mother the new house that she had just bought. Ever since being promoted to sales manager, she had been a fast rising star in the large company she had hired into, when she graduated. Now she had a house of her very own, in the suburbs.

"I love the lace curtains, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes Jenna. They are darling."

"Steven says that he doesn't like them, but I'm going to keep them anyway."

"He's not moving in with you already is he?" asked her mother.

"Oh mom, don't be so old-fashioned. Yes, he's moving in. But now I'll have someone to take out the trash for me, and do the man's work around the house."

Jenna and her mother laughed, and gave each other a hug. They were so happy. Jenna had fulfilled her mother's dreams for her. And her mother was proud of what her daughter had accomplished. They enjoyed the tight bond that only a mother and her daughter can have.

 

The End

  

  

  

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