Freak

by Mardee Louise Prynne

 

ALLEN INTRODUCES HIMSELF

I played with the girls when I was little. Of course you could have guessed that. It was okay, not great, just okay until some of the girls started to feel uncomfortable talking about girl things with me around. And so I became pretty much a loner until high school. Then things started to change. Things started to change not just for me, but for a few of the other kids as well.

Although I avoided team games in school I was a fair stick ball player and a very good handball player. Somehow I thought that by becoming good at these games I might free myself of some of the teasing I got for hanging out with girls and playing what were regarded as girls' games. Of course girls played handball too but they didn't usually play against boys. They only played with boys in flirtatious doubles games in which they covered up their often superior athletic skills. I often wondered why the girls avoided competing against the boys when many of the girls were faster, better coordinated, and despite their shorter, more slender frames, stronger.

I became the exception. Some of the girls allowed me to join them in handball and in a variation called KINGS or Chinese handball. Oddly enough, the girls who included me in their games were the more athletic, tougher, less prissy, less self-styled ladylike cliques. I became an adept player but all it got me was the nickname of 'tomboy.' The boys avoided me all the more since it was too embarrassing to be beaten in an athletic game by the 'tomboy.' At least the more athletic girls still let me play with them.

Did I say I've always been a little different? A whole lot different is more like it. Actually, I was a kind of freak in most kids' eyes.

The academic or college prep track courses were what most kids took in my high school. Those courses, intended for students planning on college, formed the nucleus of my program. When it came to choosing electives my being different again surfaced. I chose courses in the commercial track, the secretarial studies classes. The commercial track prepared the girls who were not interested in going on after high school or who were unable to afford college to work in offices by teaching typing, bookkeeping, and shorthand. This meant the program was almost exclusively followed by girls who, although not in the least dull, had no interest in going to college. Family finances was the reason for some of these very capable girls choosing the commercial track; for others it was their family's cultural values that meant no college, at least not for girls. A significant number were just too ambitious, too bright, and too driven to keep their place. Lots of these girls did eventually attend college on a part time basis and, on completion of college, went on to a better life style than they would have had if they stayed in their place.

A few boys took some typing classes, usually in senior year when they had met all of their other course requirements. These boys claimed it would be valuable to be able to type their papers in college. No one believed them, not for one single second, least of all the very goons who said so. Everyone knew these goons thought it was an easy class and that they would have a high old time flirting with the girls.

I wasn't at all sure why I was taking so many commercial classes. No, that's not so. I knew very well but avoided saying so even to myself. Actually, it was another way to become more like a girl. Being an almost exclusively girls only setting, a setting in which the real girls were able to be themselves without male ogling, afforded an opportunity to learn and practice feminine body posture. While taking shorthand I crossed my legs tightly with one foot hooked behind the other calf. Some of the time I sat with my knees together, my feet flat on the floor in an evocation of feminine modesty. As I sat I wondered what it would feel like to wear a skirt and stockings like all the other girls in the class. Did real girls ever take for granted the sensation of a garter pulling even more tightly as they extended their legs or as they knelt to retrieve something from their purse or from a file cabinet? Most girls wore stockings to school only on special occasions but even on ordinary days how wonderful it must feel to experience skirts and pettis rustling against bare legs, to flirtatiously adjust those skirts as I sat or crossed my legs. To feel the boys' eyes on my calves as I bend forward and pull up my crew socks would be a thrill, a thrill of power.

The control that these girls could exert became obvious almost from the first day I was in a class with them. They were all very nice to me but they delighted in giving the self-styled "big man on campus" types a very hard time, hard in more ways than one. The girls had only to smooth their stockings, or just or adjust the cuffed fold of their bobby-sox to have these jerks staring transfixed. But that was only for openers for these tough minded girls. Once having gotten the boy's attention with their not very revealing but extremely provocative moves, a girl would make eye-contact and sneer. By the time these girls, so different from the so-called classier types who would be going to college only to earn an MRS, had finished with these boys, they had shattered each boy's confidence almost beyond repair. Just a flash of the lacy hem of a slip or petti would be enough to distract those boys from the day's lesson making them look like the fools they were.

Of course some of the boys did try to get 'handy' with some of these girls. The girls welcomed such attentions, but not for the reasons the boys hoped they would. It gave the girls an excuse to mark the would-be Lotharios with scratches and bruises and, on occasion, sore balls depending on where their intended victims decided to strike. Some of the boys enjoyed these humiliations as indicated by the hard-on they often got when the girls would verbally or physically challenge them.

Most girls wore those pretty things every single day even though nobody got to see them except a few other girls, their intimate friends. That made me so envious. The variety of textures and colors in panties alone were so special. I longed to wear such finery even for a few minutes. But in the end, even I had to admit that referring to "all the other girls" in the class wasn't the least bit accurate since I wasn't one of the girls and could never be. Or so I believed.

There was, I knew from having peeked at a discarded pin-up magazine, some vague hope for me. The magazine had a two page article, a photo essay really, on a female impersonator. It showed a slender man in panties seated at a dressing table applying makeup. Then a photo of him now fully made up, still seated but facing the camera, as he rolled a stocking over his smooth and shapely leg so gracefully pointed in the air. Next he donned his wig and did the finishing touches to his hairstyle with a comb. The final photo showed him as a fashionably dressed, very attractive woman, a woman who was tastefully seductive ,a woman whose calm smile told she how confident she was in the power she exerted by her very being. A 'funny' sensation which welled up in my tummy became an unfamiliar but pleasant tingle in my groin. I headed for home as quickly as possible without calling undue attention to myself. The magazine was tucked under my jacket and I just knew that if anyone found it they would somehow know that it was the female impersonator photos that prompted me to keep it.

The bathroom mirror confirmed my hopes. I now knew I had the right facial bones and features along with the slender figure to learn to do what this performer was able to but I also knew I didn't want to perform in a cabaret like some sort of oddity. Even though it was almost nineteen-fifty, the second half of the twentieth century, I could think of no way I could be a girl, even some of the time, without being a freak on display. That wasn't for me. I would be a real girl, albeit a girl with a penis, pursuing the lifestyle of a beautiful, glamorously sophisticated, powerful, successful woman; successful by her own definition, powerful in her ability to control her destiny. I fantasized this version of 'me' would have a succession of lovers but I was not at all certain if my lovers would be women, men or an undreamed of combination.

I knew this to be an impossible dream, a weird jerk-off fantasy so I put it aside and thought of it only in that special instant between waking and sleeping. And yet this strange reverie came to invade my dreams both night and day. It soon became my one major dream, the great hope that kept me going.

The margins of my school notebooks and the pages in back of my loose leaf revealed hints of this hidden self. My scribbles in the margins of my notebooks were really sketches; some were line drawings and others were fully shaded. Almost all the sketches were of girls' and women's fashions or of exaggeratedly pretty faces, shaded to show makeup and wearing earrings or very stylish eye glasses. There were a few sketches of hands: very graceful hands with long, elegant fingers adorned with rings, with wrists sporting bracelets of my own design. Some were conservative and traditional while others were more bohemian. Guess what? I longed to wear jewelry as fashion accents even with my drab boy clothing but I didn't dare any more than I dared to try on female finery from girl's style sweaters to skirts and pettis. I didn't even dare to draw what I imagined the well dressed girl or woman might be wearing under the clothing I so envied. Oh, I tried such drawings every now and again but the results were so shocking. Each time I began the seductive young girl bore an undeniable resemblance to me. My fear of being discovered, my cowardice, although not totally irrational, overwhelmed my need. Was there a place in this city, even in this world where girls like me could find a place?

I thought I was undone one morning in the lunchroom waiting for the first period warning bell, the signal to go up to homeroom. Marcia, one of the quietly rebellious girls in my classes, approached and sat down. She was strikingly pretty with a great figure and a commanding presence that was intimidating to all she met. She was often accompanied by whichever of her friends who were in her best graces at that moment.

I drew a breath as Marcia approached me as I sat alone at a corner table in the school cafeteria waiting for the bell that would allow us to go up to our homerooms for attendance.

"Gee, Al, I can't understand why you always want to sit by yourself? You know it would be swell if you sat with us."

I managed a smile as Marcia pushed a stray lock of blondish brown hair back from her cheek to behind her ear.

"I'm sure it would be keen but you always sit with a crowd of girls, never any boys."

"Most boys are major drips but you're not like them. You've got some really special things going for you. Trouble is you don't even know it. There are lots of girls who would appreciate someone like you, if you get my drift. I'll bet you don't even know that there are lots of boys who would love to be, well, to be friends with you but they're just too worried about their friends might think."

"I guess so but what about the girls who sit with you? They might not care to be seen sitting with me."

"Just try it and see how quickly you part of the group."

Was this my chance to become one of the girls? Well, as close to being one of the girls as possible for someone like me. She has to be making fun of me.

My face must have shown my confusion because Marcia perched on the table in front of me. A student marshal motioned for Marcia to get off the table. My new friend screwed up her face in what could have been a frown or a sneer, opened her mouth ever so slightly and touched the tip of her tongue to her front teeth.

The student marshal, a studious girl who was quite pretty in a plain sort of way, broke eye contact with Marcia, and then she looked toward me with a funny, embarrassed smile. There was something about this girl and her smile that made the short hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Marcia meanwhile had turned my notebook toward her and watched me blush as she looked over a sketch I was working on.

"Say, you're good."

"Thanks but I was just playing around. It's just a line drawing with some shading. No big deal."

"Playing around? No big deal? These are super! Wait until Miss Preston gets a look at these. You'll be the star of her program in no time."

"Now I know you're making fun of me. Miss Preston hates having boys in her programs. All the kids say she hates boys 'cause she's a…"

"Just don't believe everything you hear. You wouldn't like me to believe all the stuff they say about you, that you're some kind of a freak. Like I said before, Allie, you're not like most boys. You never act like those goons. You've got style and class. Miss Preston's art and design program might be just the place for you to develop some of that talent you don't even know you have."

"I still think you're making fun of me. Even if you're not, I don't want you to tell anyone about these."

I slammed my notebook closed and pouted.

"Allie, just stop feeling sorry for your self. I don't waste my time teasing. If you want to sulk just because someone's trying to help you, just forget it. Forget about sitting with me and my friends until you wake up."

I felt my face growing warm as I blushed at Marcia's abbreviating my name to the distinctly feminine 'Allie.'

"Gee, I hope you don't mind me calling you Allie. It just came out. Suits you though."

"I don't mind at all. It's just that everybody will make fun of me like they always do."

"Suppose I call you Allie only when no one else is around? If anyone else hears it and starts using it without being mean, then you know it's right."

I nodded and then, without thinking, I answered Marcia.

"No, Marcia. It doesn't matter in the least if you or anyone else thinks Allie's the right name for me. What matters is whether or not I feel it's the right name for me and I do feel it's right, ever so right."

Marcia was clearly taken aback but was too surprised by my assertive reaction to say a word.

Tense at first over being invited to do something I had hoped for for so long, I soon relaxed and walked up to first class feeling almost elated. It suddenly struck me that I was too relaxed; relaxed to the point where I was allowing my effeminate nature to emerge. I was clutching my notebook to my chest the way girls carried their school books. So what if anyone sneers? This is me and I'm tired of pretending. There's no point in pretending when I'm fooling no one, not even myself. And besides, if I could face down that dolt Ron, I can take care of myself.

Suddenly I found, ahead of me, a cluster of boys and girls moving so slowly as to be all but loitering on the stairs. I tried to edge my way through only to be stopped by Ronald, a minor jock, minor in every way but his ego and his swaggering airs.

Much to my surprise, Ron smiled at me and said "Hi." No sarcasm, nothing but a matter of fact, almost friendly "hi." I smiled at him by way of returning his greeting.

His girlfriend, a bullying snob with nothing to be snobbish about, elbowed him and whispered "What are you doing saying 'hi' to that thing? Do something right now or your reputation is gone and so am I."

I felt badly for Ron, but not for long. He released his girl friend's hand as he spread his arm across my chest.

"Excuse me, Miss! Don't you know you're not supposed to run on the stairs?"

I heard a few giggles from the girls and some sniggering from the boys. "Miss! That's good," came from a kid I couldn't see.

"I said 'excuse me.' Now let me pass."

My tone surprised even me. It was calm, self-assured and, above all, aggressive.

Ron was nonplussed by my reaction. It was something no one, least of all me, expected. He stepped aside as I kept eye-contact with him. I moved slowly forward as he leaned away from me. Barbara's voice broke the silence.

"Ronald, you are such a phony. Look at him, everyone, he's backing down from that skinny little fruit."

That did it! Ron had no choice now but to stand up to me; not that that would have been a problem for him or anyone else. I was terrified of a fight or at least I was until that moment.

Ron bounded up two or three steps and stood in front of me with his hands clenched at his sides. It was pretty clear to me that he was even more perturbed than I was.

"Just move out of my or I'll have to move you out of my way." I surprised myself at least as much as I surprised Ron and the group of onlookers.

Again sniggers. I was no longer sure whether I was bluffing or so angry that I would really do something physical to my tormentor.

"Hey, Ron," a voice from the sidelines chimed in, "Are you going to take lip from that faggot?"

To my amusement Ron was beginning to sweat. He was at least as afraid of getting into a fight as I was! Of course he had much more to lose by way of status than I did. Even if I didn't win but just held him off, Ron's reputation would be destroyed. This was too good an opportunity for me to let go by.

"Yes, Ron," I echoed, "Are you afraid of me?"

"No, no I'm not! I just don't want to hit a fruit like you. It would be like hitting a girl. You're really just like a girl, faggot."

"Oh, is that so? Maybe you just don't want to fight a girl, especially not the kind of girl you say I am because it would be just too, too embarrassing if she beat you up." I paused and watched Ron become more and more uncomfortable. Then I added, "Not if she beats you up, but when she beats you up."

This time the sniggers were replaced by laughter. At first I thought they might be laughing at me but then the cat calls started again with Ron as the target!

The confrontation was as good as over and I had won! Ron was steaming but unable to make a move against me. The cluster of kids dissolved as almost everyone went their separate ways. A few of the guys even patted me on the back. "Good show, Al."

A few of the girls stood in front of me and smiled.

"That was so neat. He really had it coming."

"Yeah, Al, you really told that jerk where to get off." This from one of the boys!

I walked slowly and gracefully, perhaps too gracefully, past Ron. My pace didn't alter as he shouted at my back.

"Fucking faggot, I just didn't want to get in trouble in school. I'll fix you when we're alone sometime. Just watch your back."

"Watch my back, indeed," I shot back over my shoulder. "Don't you think you're watching my back enough for both of us; or is it my backside you're watching?"

By now I had reached the landing. I didn't turn around or even glance over my shoulder but I was pretty sure Ron was still looking at me. To ridicule him even more, I walked forward putting one foot directly in front of the other to make my walk even more girlish, to let him know that he backed down from a fight with a fruit, a faggot.

An angry sound from Ron; a sound that was neither a bellow nor a groan yet was both. Silence, followed by the sound of someone, presumably Ron, hurrying down the stairs. The stairwell exit door opened. Had I gone too far in making Ron flee from his apparent disgrace in front of his friends? And why did he run when most everyone had already left?

It was ever so silly of him to run off. No one would have doubted him if he said he just didn't want to get into trouble for starting a fight with me in school. I mean really no staff member would have believed that innocent, ineffective, timid Allan could start a fight. But if he had said that, he might have to face up to me after school.

The feeling of confidence I had as I sashayed through the school corridors was wonderfully liberating. I was free to be as effeminate as I wanted to be and I no longer feared being bullied. The boys who teased me so mercilessly were now intimidated by the aggressively femme Allie who was replacing the cowering Allen. ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

THE STORY CONTINUES

Ron, still agitated by the confrontation he just fled, leaned against the wall in the vestibule of the side entrance. He was flushed and breathless. He had fled the confrontation with Allie out of fear but not simply fear of a physical confrontation. He was terrified that his painfully hard penis would betray that he was turned on by the effeminate teen who had so brazenly stood up to him, turned on more intensely than any girl had ever turned him on. Boys, real boys didn't affect him at all. All those soapy bodies in the shower, guys in briefs standing around the locker room did nothing to him. A glimpse of a girl's stocking tops, however fleeting, really got him going, but this was something new and frightening, new and overwhelming. A slight, slender, and, okay, but it was hard to admit, pretty boy who posed, postured like a girl got him really going.

The late bell rang! Homeroom period was short which didn't give him much time to deal with his already throbbing erection. The gym locker room would be empty for at least another twenty-five minutes. Alone in a stall, he slipped his hand into his briefs as his pants fell to his ankles. Not a moment too soon, he thought as the drop of precum oozed onto his finger tip. Then impulsively and for no reason he could fathom, he took the pearly drop onto his finger tip and brought it to his mouth. Rather than being repelled, he was further aroused. A fantasy of Allie standing before him in white panties, his cock outlined through the delicate fabric allowed Ron to get himself off in what he realized were too few minutes.

Ron's heart raced as he squeezed his post orgasm cum onto his finger tips and brought his fingers to his lips. He hesitated, pulled his fingers away from his face. The failed effort to taste what he now knew he wanted was enough to let him know that only the cum of a femme boy would do in the future.

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The rest of the day had been an anticlimax for Allie despite that fact that he moved through the school corridors with no fear of being teased. Then it happened. He was at his locker when he realized that a whole lot of stuff was missing from one of his loose leaf notebooks. This notebook had most of the drawings and sketches that had gotten Marcia's attention earlier that day. His stomach sank as he thought of being exposed for even more of his girlish ways. Referencing himself as a girl in the showdown with Ron could be chalked up to goading Ron. Those drawings and sketches were so completely a girl thing that he could never explain them away. That they were on notebook pages covered with Allan's own flowery handwriting meant there was no denying they were his.

A tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Marcia. She handed him the missing pages.

"I showed these to Miss Preston. She said whoever drew these has real talent and that you should develop it.

"Say, why don't we walk home together and I'll tell you everything she said."

"Marcia, at risk of sounding ungrateful, next time ask me before you take any of my things and don't even think about showing them to Miss Preston or anyone else without asking me."

Touchy, isn't he, now that he finally stood up for himself? Maybe he shouldn't hang out with me and my friends. Prissy little bitch, that's what he is. He's the kind who should hang out with girls like those Ivy League types, the bitches who suck up to Barbara.

 

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Clusters of teens moved toward the exits of the school. Some were reluctant to leave the building to return to less than thrilling home lives while others, for the same reason, made their way to whatever place their crowd congregated. Two very wholesome looking types moved hurriedly down the stairs where they overtook and passed Allie and Marcia. They were just so all American girl (of the fifties) from their white blouses with turned up collars all the way down to their white crew socks and saddle shoes. They glanced over their shoulders to greet the two they had just passed. "Hi, Marcia. Oh, my gosh. There's Al. Al, hi. You were so super this morning. See ya."

"There's some hope for those two," offered Marcia when the two girls were out of earshot. "Problem is they're just too into sucking up to Barbara." Then Marcia added under her breath, "Probably into sucking her, too." Allie nodded as if he really understood.

Allie and Marcia blinked in the sunshine as they exited the school building.

"Marcia, I'm really thrilled that you're being so nice. I'd love to walk home with you but not today. It's just that..."

"You don't have to explain. After your near fight with Ron this morning you need to walk home by yourself so it doesn't look like you're scared and need me or anybody else to protect you."

Allie looked down at the sidewalk.

"Something like that."

"It's okay, Allie. I'm not pissed off at all. Matter of fact, I think its pretty neat that you're standing up for yourself. Just 'cause you're not an asshole like most boys doesn't mean you're not tough when it counts. Remember, I've played handball with you. You're so fast you could probably punch out any two of those jerk-offs at once before they could even lay a finger on you."

The newly confident teen clutched his school books to his chest as he did earlier in the day but now it was with a relaxed confidence in being more openly the person, the girl he had tried so hard in vain to hide.

A familiar looking girl smiled at him in a way that made him tingle. Their eyes met as he tried to place her. "Hi," she said. He smiled back and responded with a warm hello. It was the student marshal who had shooed Marcia off the cafeteria table at the start of the day.

Allie paused as he waited for the traffic light to change. A vaguely familiar voice called to him.

"Wait up, Al."

He turned to face a sheepish looking Ron. Allie's cold "What do you want?" response froze Ron in his tracks.
"Come on, Al, don't be like that. Look, I'm really, really sorry about being such an asshole this morning. I want to apologize."

"Do you now?"

"I really mean it. Give me a chance to make it up to you."

"Ron, honey, there's nothing to make up to me. You're the one who chickened out, who ran away."

"I know, I know but it's not like you think…"

"You couldn't possibly know what I think."

"Gee whiz, Al. I'm really sorry I was so rude and nasty. I mean it's just so hard for me to explain."

It was obvious now that Ron might really be feeling contrite about the way he had tormented Allie when he was still Allen. One thing for certain; Ron was pretty upset about something so Allie thought best not to rub it in. Maybe another time with an audience would be the right time to humiliate Ron. Allie was thrilled with his newly found power. He not only enjoyed being able to relax his guard and let his effeminate ways show through but he was absolutely reveling in being a bitch or at least in being bitchy.

"Well, you can walk with me unless you think your friends would laugh at you for hanging out with me. That awful girlfriend of yours, Barbara, seemed to be egging you on this morning and you were eating it up."

"I'm through with her. I'd rather do right by you to make up for being such a bastard this morning than make out with her when she wants me to be a goon."

He may sound nice but I still don't trust him, not really. For now, let's see where this is going.

"Oh, so I'm supposed to forgive and forget about all your nastiness, not just this morning but ever since you first saw me? Am I supposed to be thrilled that I'm being allowed to spend a few minutes with wonderful Ron?"

The boy's shoulders drooped and he avoided eye contact with Allie as the effeminate teen berated him.

"Come on, Allie. Don't be like that. I hope you're not turning out like all those other girls who can be so bitchy. Just give me a chance and I'll show you that I can do right by you."

Does this drip realize he's comparing me to 'other girls'? That's flattering even if it does come from that egotistical creep.

"Ron, maybe I'm wrong about you." Al's voice took on a warm and soothing tone. "It's so neat that you would be willing to break up with your girl just so you can apologize to me." I still won't give you a chance…" Allie smiled gloatingly as Ron's face registered disappointment. "I will, however give you half a chance."

"Not just apologize but really make it up to you. Say, want to have a soda with me? You don't have to say what I think you're thinking. I really don't care who sees me with you."

"Okay, but you have to call me Allie when it's just the two of us."

This was too swell to be real. Ron was trying so hard to be nice. It must have been a real effort for him considering how little practice he had at being anything but an ass-hole. Allie was definitely going to play this for all it's worth.

"Say, it is kind of warm. A cold soda would taste swell."

Allie smiled at Ron as he rested his hand on the larger boy's wrist. He probably got the hint but Allie suspected Ron was having trouble with the idea of stopping by the soda fountain in the effeminate boy's company. To Allie's surprise, Ron said "Okay. My treat."

They stepped into the cool dimness of the combination ice cream parlor and newsstand. Inside were a few clusters of girls and one or two boys who had stopped in on the way home from school.

Allie decided to give Ron a break by stopping in front of the magazine racks while Ron reached into the ice filled cooler chest to pull out a couple of colas. That way Ron's buddies might not realize he was treating the fairy boy to a soda.

A cluster of three girls began buzzing as they stared at Ron. One of them was the girl who was, if Ron were to be believed, his ex-girlfriend. The other two were the girls who greeted Marcia and Allie as they left school. Allie was pretty sure they were too focused on Ron to notice he was there with the effeminate boy.

Barbara swiveled her stool around so that she was facing Ron. She crossed her legs at the ankles in way that made her starched crinolines flair up to reveal more leg than was usual back in the discreet nineteen-fifties.

"Hi, Ron. Why not get a soda for me too? If you're nice to me while we spend some time together I might just find it in my heart to forgive you for walking away this morning."

"Barb, there's nothing to talk about. Besides, I'm with a, with a friend… You know Allan."

Barb's eyes followed his gaze toward Allie. Only then did it finally dawn on Barb that Ron and Allie were together.

"That's too, too much. So that's your friend, maybe it is your new girlfriend!"

Most of the kids left in order to avoid listening to Barb vituperate against Ron for being decent to someone who didn't meet Barb's standards. It wasn't that they cared about Ron and Barb having a public spat. It was just that Barb might turn on them as well.

Poor confused Ron. He tried to be nice and was getting a public rebuke from Barb in front of Allie and in front of Barb's friends. He might have been too overwhelmed to do anything but take it from her so take it he did. Allie, on the other hand, was not.
"Say, Barb, what if I really am Ron's new girlfriend, as you put it? That wouldn't say much for you, would it? Any girl who loses her boyfriend to a fairy-boy can't have much going for her, can she?"

Barb turned a bright red as her friends giggled.

"You, you bitch," she screeched. Turning to her friends, she hissed, "Get way from me you two. You're no friends of mine if you laugh when I'm so insulted. I hate you, I hate all of you."

Crocodile tears were running down her cheeks. One of her friends handed her a tissue only to have Barb slap her hand away.

"Get away from me. I don't need any of you. Stay away from me. I hate all of you and," turning her wrath to Ron, "I'll get back at you for this."

She gathered up her pocketbook and school things, stood up, faced the mirror behind the counter, and adjusted the turned up collar of her white blouse. Barb wasn't so upset that her vanity was impaired. It was if she had fallen in love with her own reflection. Her performance was over. It had been to no avail. Her two girlfriends literally pushed past her although there was plenty of space for them to avoid physical contact.

"Wait up," she said.

Her ex-friends ignored her but one paused to talk to Ron.

"Ron, I guess you're free to play the field. You can give me a call any old time."

Her smile turned to a frown as Ron, intimidated by Barb, was failed to respond to her remark. She turned to Allie and smiled. "And Al, now that you're coming out of your shell don't ever become like those creeps who hang around here." She deliberately looked toward Ron and tilted her head in his direction in order to provide Allie an example of the "creeps who hang out around here." Say, why don't you give me call so I can help you develop this new you? See ya, Al."

"Sure thing. See ya." It was a little awkward because Allie had no idea of this girl's name. And, what, Allie wondered, did she mean by her offer to help Allie "develop this new you?"

Ron had this funny look on his face.

"What's up, Ron?"

"Nothing's up." He was sharp.

Was he jealous that Allie might take a girl away from him or was it that the girl would take Allie away from him? It struck Allie that it was more than possible that Ron was, on some level, attracted to him in the way a boy might be to a girl.

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"Mom, I need to make a private phone call. May I use the phone extension in your room?"

"Of course, darling. Take your time and I promise not to disturb you."

"Thanks, Mother. You're a pal."

"Pal! That's a new expression for you." An approving smile lit up her eyes as she silently reflected on the two words that caught her attention. "Pal" could have been the exuberant excitement of almost any teen responding an offer of privacy by her or his mother. Now "Mother" was something else entirely. A boy of any age would rarely use that term in the second person. Now if he starts calling me Mommy…That will tell me he's definitely ready. Poor dear, so unhappy all these years but I had to protect him until I was sure he was ready.

Allie went into Mother's bedroom and closed the door. He took the phone from the nightstand and put it on the floor. His reflection in the vanity table mirror caught his eye. His fingers raked his hair, pushing it into a semblance of bangs. His lustrous dark brown hair was closely clipped along the sides in fifties fashion. Allie pushed the hair on the back of his head as if putting up long hair. He swore to himself that he would never, ever allow a barber to use hair clippers on him again. He was due for his next haircut in a few days but resolved to skip it. (Bear in mind that in the fifties men and boys had a haircut every two weeks.)

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out a slip of paper on which he had written Marcia's phone number when he looked it up earlier.

"Marcia, hi."

"Allie! I'm so glad you called."

"Did you think I wouldn't? I mean, it's just so swell that you want to be friends. That hasn't happened to me very often."

"Don't get all syrupy. You're a neat kid who deserves lots of friends, real friends. Say! How was the walk home? I saw Ron catch up to you. I hope you don't mind but I kept close for a couple of minutes. I know, I know. I shouldn't have."

"Ron was just so sweet. I really pushed it with him but he not only went to the candy store with me but he bought me a soda in front of everyone. That Barbara creep went into a real snit but just wait until I tell you how I took charge."

"Okay, so tell me already."

A few minutes later there was a tap on the door. Allie responded "Mom? You can come in."

"I just want to put these on my dresser. I'll put them away later."

Allie continued the phone conversation with Marcia. Mom spent hardly any time in the room and wasn't deliberately eavesdropping. She couldn't help but hear Allie repeat something Marcia had just said.

"Really, Marcia? You actually think that Ron is acting like he has a crush on me?"

Mother tapped softly on the door, came into the room, put a pile of freshly laundered underthings on the dresser and left. As she deposited the underthings on the dresser, Allie caught her reflection in the mirror. A tiny smile showed at the edges of the woman's mouth. As she stepped out the door she nodded to Allie and pursed her lips at him in a long distance kiss as she nodded approval.

Allie should have been embarrassed by his mother hearing him chatting about the possibility of a boy having a crush on him. He felt lighter, liberated at not having to hide any longer.

A combination of opposing emotions welled up in Allie. Oh, yes. He knew he was Allie now, no longer Allan and certainly not the coarse guy suggested by the diminutive of his given name. No, he was definitely not an Al. Accepting the nickname given to him by Marcia as she invited him to become one of her clique of girls was as liberating as standing up to Ron in front of all of his friends, as liberating as having manipulated Ron into treating him to a soda as if he were courting a potential date.

Allie hung up the phone, rose to his feet and put the phone back on the nightstand. As he moved toward the door he reached out to caress the lingerie his mother had left on her dresser. A pair of white cotton panties in the tailored brief style so ubiquitous in the fifties lay on top. Even the cotton was so much finer, so much softer than the white cotton of his coarse boy briefs. He dared not touch the nylon and silk that lay below lest he disturb the pile and incur Mother's disapproval. It took an effort of will for Allie to open the door and walk away from the feminine finery that held such a fascination for him.

Mother was sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea and reading the evening newspaper.

"Sweetie, you do know I overheard you on the phone. I just want to reassure you that I'm not at all annoyed by what I heard. Actually, I'm relieved. You see, darling, people are often very unhappy of they have to hide what they are. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Oh, yes, Mommy. We used to stay at a house near a beach when I was little. There was another lady there. Oh, I remember now. You let me wear little girl sundresses and swim suits. I think I had underpants in pretty colors, too.

"But, Mommy did that really happen or am I just remembering it wrong, remembering the way I wanted it to be?"

"Not at all, you're remembering it just the way it was."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Marcia caught up with Allie as the students dispersed after the school day.

"How did it go with Miss Preston?"

"I think it went really, really well. Miss Preston is neat, really nice. Everyone says she's mean to boys but that wasn't at all how she was to me. Maybe she didn't see me as a boy. I guess she saw me more like a girl. It was weird though. She looked me up and down, asked me to hold my hands in certain ways and finally as ked me to walk around the room. She talked to me about working in some arty shops some of her friends have. That's going to be so neat. She wants me to stop by tomorrow."

"You mean you're not upset about being thought of as a kind of girl."

"Marcia, honey, maybe this isn't the place for me to open up to you and you may not even want to hear about my problems so maybe I should just shut up."

"You're right about this not being the place. We need a quieter, more private place."

The two walked quietly until they came to the soda fountain where Allie had tasted feminine power when Ron bought him a soda. They entered and made their way to a booth near the back.

They sat next to each other facing the door.

"Say," declared Marcia. "Let me treat you to a sundae to celebrate you waking up to what you have going for you."

"Gee, I don't know. It may sound silly to you but I don't want to gain weight now that summer's getting close."

"I can relate to that. Most girls can; we all want to look good in shorts or a swim suit. But this is a special occasion."

Marcia slid out of the booth and returned a few minutes later with two basic sundaes: just a scoop of ice cream and some chocolate syrup.

"See these. I kept the calories low. Now we can chat."

"Marcia, you probably won't understand because you're always so independent. You don't care what other kids think. It's always been different for me."

Marcia nodded as Allie paused.

"I've always been happier doing girl things but the teasing and bullying got to be so bad that I had to learn to cover it up as best I could. No one was fooled except me and I felt miserable so much of the time.

"But it was just so special standing up to Ron that I felt I could be as girlish as I wanted to so I just walked like I always wanted to. And then when he tried to make up with me, I got him to buy me a soda. I felt so strong and so sure of what I should be. Still, I hate him for all the times he tormented me. I just want to hurt him, hurt him and humiliate him in every way I can."

"All of us girls enjoy being bitchy some of the time. Perfectly swell for you to be that way when you need to and when someone deserves it. No one deserves it more than Ron except maybe Barbara."

The pair sat smirking like pair of Cheshire cats when who walks in but Anne and Rebecca. To Marcia's and Allie's consternation, they noticed them and made a beeline toward the booth.

"Hi, mind if we join you?"

Allie was about to answer it was not okay when Marcia dug her fingers into his thigh. He took the hint and said nothing.

"Suit your self," smiled Marcia.

"Hi, Allie. I guess we should introduce ourselves to you. I'm Anne and this is Rebecca."

"This is my friend Marcia."

"Hi, Marcia. I've seen you around school. We just want to congratulate Allie for standing up for himself the other day. Wow, you really stared Ron down. And then you got him to treat you like a princess…Oh, my gosh. Sorry, didn't mean to say princess. It's just that you're…. I didn't mean any offense, Allie."

"And you really ticked off Barbara. Made us realize what a user she is," added Anne. "Anyhow, we hope you might want to be friends with us. Don't worry, we're done with Barbara."

"I bet you both would like to fix her once and for all. Get back at Ron while you're at it." Marcia eyed the pair as she spoke.

"Why would we want to get back at Ron?" Rebecca tried very hard to sound as though she was in the dark. She convinced no one.

"For falling under Barbara's spell when either of you felt you deserved him more."

Rebecca and Anne nodded but avoided eye contact with either Marcia or Allie. Marcia looked toward Allie with a smile at the corners of her mouth. These two are more likely to have wanted to make out with Barbara than with Ron. Marcia kept her thoughts to herself as she spoke to Allie.

"Your call, Allie."

Allie smiled. "Ladies, you're in the right place. Let's just hang out together for now. We might find out we have more interests in common than just despising Ron."

Twenty minutes later the foursome, still chattering away about girl things, got up to leave. They paused at the magazine rack where Allie selected a copy of "Young Miss." He was about to take it to the counter when Anne offered to take it up to the counter for him.

"If I buy it and give it to you later, you won't be getting the fish-eye like you would if you bought it yourself."

"Thanks, Anne, for being so thoughtful but I have to get used to doing what I want and not hiding."

One of Ron's buddies sidled over to the register to get a glimpse of what Allie was buying. It was a mistake on his part.

"Like what you see?" Allie spoke softly, part flirtatiously and part belligerently. He held the magazine under the boy's nose. "Now go ahead and say something and I'll shove this down your throat." With that she folded the magazine and jammed it into the befuddled boy's stomach. He backed away with a frightened look on his face. This was hardly what he intended when he approached Allie. It wasn't so much that he feared Allie might attack him, hurt him physically. It was fear arising out of confusion, out of not knowing how to react to this skinny angry boy and the realization that Allie was as pretty as some of the more attractive girls in school.

The four walked down the street chatting in a friendly, open manner about all sorts of things but mainly they stuck to girl things. These topics, so recently closed to Allie, included whether certain super control girdles were worth the extra discomfort, the best way to starch crinolines, and even the most convenient and painless ways to remove unwanted hair. Marcia was silent at key times as she wondered whether Anne and Rebecca were staging this conversation for Allie's benefit.

There was a brief pause at a street corner where Marcia turned down the block on which she lived. Anne and Rebecca made every effort to include Allie in the conversation but he was mortified when they talked about taking control of boys while making out in the movies, but only to first base, then embarrassing the same boy by making him cum on his pants and then calling him a pervert and walking away or even slapping his face. Allie's mortification soon changed to fascination as he wondered if he could do the same. It's just a step further into tasting the power that girls have.

"I'm going to be alone tonight so why don't you come over for a study session, just the two of us. My mom is taking my sister shopping downtown. The little pest won an award so my mom's taking her out for dinner and to buy her a new outfit. I could've gone with them but I really didn't want to give the little pest a chance to gloat so I'm staying home." Anne glanced at Allie as she addressed her proposal to Rebecca.

"I would love to study with you but I have to go visiting with my mom. Sorry."

A brief silence ensued. Anne bumped Allie with her hip as her face lit up.

"Say, Allie, why don't you come over? We can get to know each other better. That's a swell way to get to know each other better since we're all going to be friends."

"I'd love to but are you sure it's okay with your mom?"

"Probably not, but who's going to tell her? See you around seven."

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Allie sat at the small desk in his bedroom doing his homework. He might have read or sketched after school but he wanted to be free of any serious responsibilities before his study date with Anne. He needed to get everything out of the way before dinner. He finished his geometry problems, and then got up to stretch. Might as well set the table for dinner and get that out of the way. On his way back to his bedroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. Allie stepped in to study his reflection. Like so many teens, he was never satisfied; except Allie's concerns were the opposite of those of most boys. He never wanted to have to shave. Running his finger tips lightly over his skin, he was delighted to find not the least trace of facial hair. He unbuttoned his shirt and smiled at the lack of body hair. That pesky fine down on his legs was no more than most girls have to cope with. Still, Allie feared that one day he might have to start scraping his face. The thought repelled him.

Back at his desk, Allie translated some very sophisticated and grammatically complex paragraphs from classic French literature. Then he practiced his typing. As he typed, an air of malaise struck. His lack of social confidence returned.

Allie decided to phone Marcia and get some advice from her.

"Hi Marcia. It's Allie. What do girls do when they have study dates together?"

"Depends if it's a crowd or if it's just a couple of close friends, really, really close friends. They talk girl stuff like clothes and underthings and how to get over on boys. You know, get them to pay for sodas and movies, like you got Ron to do. We talk about the easiest ways to stop boys when they get too fresh. Okay, you're not going to believe this but sometimes we practice French kissing on each other."

"What's French kissing?"

"You are so, so naïve. French kissing is when use your tongue in each other's mouth…"

"I'm supposed to go over to Anne's tonight to study."

"Well, go for it, girl. Oh sorry, should've said guy or something like that. Just be careful."

"That's okay. Why should I be careful?"

"Because Anne and Rebecca might use you to get back at Barbara and also at Ron. They both deserve it, especially from you so it's really no big deal as long as you know what's going on and if you call all the shots.

"Allie, I'm your friend, maybe; but I'm not your big sister. You start figuring things out on your own."

The boy smiled as he hung up the phone.

If that's how you feel, Marcia honey, okay for you. You were pretty swell getting me to see who I'm really supposed to be, but if you're going to be like that, I don't need you and I don't need to sit with you and your friends. Anyhow, Ann and Rebecca are much more the kind of girls, or should I say ladies, I really want to be like.

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Anne held the door open for Allie as she eyed him up and down.

"Come on in." It was both an invitation and a command.

Anne latched the door behind Allie and slipped the safety chain into place. She took Allie's hand as if to lead him further into the apartment. To Allie's surprise, Anne pulled him toward with surprising strength. Anne's lips skimmed over Allie's as she dropped his hand.

She led the way to her bedroom near the end of the hall. She flipped the light switch and closed the window blinds. "You're my guest so you take the chair and I'll sit on the bed."

Anne didn't wait for Allie to respond but nudged him into the chair and dropped onto the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, wiggled to the middle, and then, to Allie's shock folded her legs so that she was sitting like a yogi in a near lotus position. The smile she gave Allie told him that she was quite aware that he could see her panty crotch and that she was going to make no effort to adjust her skirt to a more modest position.

"Stop looking so shocked. Lots of girls don't mind if their girlfriends get to see things. Allie, I don't mean to upset you but you know you really would like to be one of us. Well, maybe not really one of us, but more like us than…well, you know what I mean. That's really not so bad and Rebecca and I are okay with that 'cause you're so nice and all. Just get used to it and Rebecca and I will take good care of you.

"Now for what you came here for. Conjugate the verb etre."

Half an hour later they were seated side by side on the floor with their backs propped against the bed. They had quizzed each other on French and on world history, the two subjects they were being tested on later in the week. Suddenly Anne rolled Allie onto his side and began tickling him.

"Stop, Anne, please. You're making me pee."

"Well it's not showing through your jeans."

"I really didn't pee very much, just a drop or two."

"Just change your underpants. You know you want to and you know you'll be more comfortable, less self-conscious."

"No! There's really need to; I'm not really wet. Besides, how can I do that with nothing for me to change to?"

"Just borrow a pair of my panties. No one will notice plain white cotton. Besides, who will see them except you and me?"

"I just can't. Hey, why do you think you would get to see them anyhow?"

"Allie, you know you want to. I swear I won't tell a soul. You're skin will get all irritated if you stay in those damp things. Just slip off your shoes and stand up. And I'll get to see your panties because I have to show you how to put them on like a real girl does."

Allie felt the heat in his face as he blushed. Still he nodded and shivered with the anticipation of donning Anne's panties, wearing them under his boy clothes.

She undid his jeans as he stepped out of his shoes. Allie's jeans fell slowly to his ankles. His eyes brightened flirtatiously as he stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Anne turned her back to him as she opened her dresser and took out a pair of white cotton panties.

Allie took them from her and shifted awkwardly. He had no idea how to tell front from back with no fly.

"Hold them by the waist band. Keep the waistband between your finger tips, use just your thumb and pointer. See? The back is fuller."

He nodded dumbly. Anne, losing patience, yanked his briefs down. She picked them up between her thumb and forefinger.

"I'll throw these down the incinerator while you get into the panties as best you can."

Allie was relieved that she had left him alone while put on the panties. It was odd, he thought, that he felt less awkward, more natural standing nude from the waist down in front of this attractive girl than he felt changing for gym in the boys' locker room.

Anne returned a couple of minutes later. She studied Allie and nodded approvingly. "Allie, you are so keen! You have great legs and a cute butt. Wow. So many girls would love to have your legs and that deliciously tight tush.

"You know you did pretty well getting those panties on but you've got to learn to get them over your tush just right. Watch how I do it."

With that said Anne raised her skirt, hooked her thumbs under her panty hem and adjusted them over her very shapely bottom. Allie, except for raising his skirt, mimicked her move to perfection.

"Great! Allie it's like you've been doing this forever. Say, I bet you've been practicing in private."

"Yes." He blushed as she spoke. "Please don't think I'm being silly but I always feel so envious when girls do that in a swimsuit."

"Why should you feel jealous of girls? I just told you how great your legs and tush are. Zillions of girls would be jealous of what you have going for you."

"Yeah, sure. And zillions of girls would give their eye teeth for that all that great stuff you have in their." Allie nodded toward Anne's open wardrobe closet. "How can you afford a wardrobe like that?"

Anne answered somewhat awkwardly.

"Oh that stuff. A lot of it is hand-me-downs and some of it I buy with money I earn."

"Gee, you must have a really great summer job. Wish I could earn money like that."

"Who knows? Maybe you can."

They let drop their discussion of Anne's costly and extensive wardrobe.

Allie, still wearing only panties and his shirt, sat on the floor as he thought about what Anne had said. The boy squirmed, drew his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"You really are going to give me a swelled head. I guess you're right but it takes more than legs and a tush to be like a girl."

"Of course it does, but try looking in the mirror; I mean really looking, looking so you can see who's looking back at you. It won't take much for you to fool anyone into believing you're a girl. I'm talking about making people think you're a real girl and not just as a boy who looks so much like a girl that they're not sure what they're looking at."

Anne took Allie by the hand and raised him to his feet. She shoved him back so that he was seated on the edge of her bed. Anne reached for her comb and brush and set to work on Allie's dark brown hair. In a very few minutes she held a hand mirror in front of him. The effect was incredible. It was that of a very pretty teen with a short but oh so feminine hair style. This girl wore no makeup but she really didn't need any.

"See what I mean?" asked Anne triumphantly.

"Oh my gosh," was all that Allie could get out. "Is that really me?"

"See, it didn't take much at all. With a little lipstick and eye-liner you'll be totally luscious!"

Allie was so absorbed in studying his reflection that he was almost unaware that Anne had clipped a pair of earrings onto his perfectly shaped ears. It wasn't that this was Allie looking more femme than usual. It was an entirely new being, a girl who bore only the slightest resemblance to Allan. She might have been a sister or a cousin but no one could possibly confuse this new Allie with drab insecure Allan.

"Don't move. I'll be right back."

Anne reappeared an instant later dangling a white brassiere from her finger tip.

"It's my sister's brassiere. Don't worry. She won't notice we have it because I took it from our laundry hamper. I want to see something fro a second or two. Just get up."

Anne eased the boy's shirt down Allie's arms and let if fall to the floor. She stood behind Allie, held the bra in front of him as she slipped the straps over his arms. He moaned softly as Anne fastened the hooks. His cock began to rise against the cotton panties, cotton so much finer, so much lighter than the boy briefs he never felt right wearing.

Anne guided him to the full length mirror on the inside of her door. Allie gasped. With the outline of his cockhead visible through the virginal white panties and with not the least bit of makeup, the image reflected in the mirror was unquestionably that of a slender small breasted girl.

Allie quivered as she felt Anne's breath on his neck. She massaged his nipples through the padding of the bra. Her hand drifted down to his panty front and lightly squeezed his balls.

Anne now stood before him as she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his knees.

"Undo my skirt."

She wore no slip.

Allie lay on his back and reached up to Anne's breasts as she knelt over him easing his panties far enough down to expose his cock, he rose to full erection.

The boy squirmed as he felt her hair glide over his thighs and his tummy as she leaned close, as her tongue flicked a drop of precum into her mouth. A whimper as Anne grasped his cock in her fist and ran her tongue around the rim of the head. Tentatively at first, she put her open mouth over his cockhead. She drew back partly from fear of this unknown yet longed for experience, partly to prolong the delight. Her eyes ravished Allie as she continued to grasp his dick. His slender body, almost hairless was so much like a girl's, while his rampant, precum oozing prick gave him a surreal allure that was neither that of a boy nor of a girl but more desirable than either could ever be. Anne's movements were no longer tentative as she closed her lips over Allie's cockhead. Her hand began to massage his shaft while her other hand grasped his balls through the flimsy cotton of the panties he wore.

A triumphant glow came over Anne as Allie erupted into her mouth. She greedily milked his penis, savoring every drop as she realized she might never want a boy other than one as androgynous as the boy who lay spent. Annie was about to tell Allie how wonderful it was to feel him through his panties but starting giggling as she realized they weren't his at all but her own. Could it be that she could seduce Allie into wearing panties almost all the time?

Her mood changed as she recalled that she and Rebecca wanted to use Allie to embarrass both Ron and Barb. A fleeting pang of guilt for wanting to use this sweetly naïve teen who, despite his genital attributes, was so much more a girl than a boy. Anne realized she had feelings for Allie, feelings that were both protective and new, new in ways she couldn't define. She was certain that Allie would be an enthusiastic participant in the scheme she and Rebecca had hatched. This was definitely not the time to ask.

Fortunately Anne happened to glance between the drawn curtains into the street.

"Oh, shit! It's my mom and that brat sister of mine. Mother will ground me if she doesn't kill me first. She's so worried about what people will think if I have a boy in when I'm home alone.

"Take off that brassiere. We've got to work fast, really fast or I'm as good as dead."

Anne rushed to throw her sister's training bra into the laundry hamper. "Slip this on, quickly," Anne ordered as she flung one of her bras at Allie before rushing out of the room. "And this also." A panty girdle followed the bra.

He had the bra on by the time Anne returned a few seconds later and was trying to ease his hips and genitals into the panty girdle.

"This bra looks so silly. How can I possible fill it out?"

"Use these. I was a late bloomer." Anne answered as she slipped a pair of breast forms into the bra and made a few slight adjustments so that Allie's upper body took on the proportions of a flawlessly shaped girl his own age. She pushed his male endowments between his legs and tugged the girdle into place.

"Okay, just get into your jeans and this sweater." She raced from the room once again as Allie slipped on the powder blue v-neck. Allie heard the front door chain being undone.

"Sit down," she barked. He watched his reflection in fascination as Anne applied lipstick to his mouth and blotted it with a tissue.

"Don't move."

"Whatever is that thing?" Allie pointed to a length of hair Anne pulled from her vanity table drawer and held poised above his head.

"It's a fall." She used a pair of combs to attach the fall to Allie's hair. Had he not been restrained by the tight panty girdle, he would have become hard at his own totally female appearance.

"Mother, I need some fresh air I'm going to walk Allie down to the corner. Do you want me to bring back the newspaper or anything?"

"No, dear, but thank you for asking. Allie, it was so good to meet you. You really are a charmer."

The pair burst into giggles as they rode the elevator down to the lobby.

Allie's disappointment showed on his face when Anne took her fall from his head.

"Relax, honey. We'll go shopping and get you your own fall. Of course you'll have to dress as a girl when we do it." She smiled playfully at Allie who was now secure enough in his own femininity to tilt his head to the side and laugh.

"I just hope it won't only be a fall that I'll be shopping for dressed as a girl."

As soon as they were out of the dimly lit lobby, Anne took Allie's hand in her own. The pair paused and turned to face each other.

"Allie, you are so super yummy."

They kissed without hugging but not without intimacy.

The kiss ended and not an instant too soon. A few seconds later a car drove slowly by honking as it passed them. It was Ron.

Anne waved enthusiastically.

"Relax, girl. That clod hasn't the foggiest idea of who you really are. Just a second. Not that you really need this to attract boys; it's just that it'll help that sap from figuring out what you are when you're not Allie, the girl."

A few seconds later the fall was back in place framing Allie's features and obliterating even the remotest chance that Ron would associate this delightful girl with the ineffectual Allen. It would be more accurate to say the no longer ineffectual Allen whose self-possessed attitude had made Ron back away from his bullying stance earlier in the day.

Allie looked pensive for a moment or two and then smiled in oddly serious way.

"Anne, love, this who I really am. That Allan person, that loser of a boy you think you know is just a temporary pose."

Allie made her way down the street. With it being close to ten on a week night there would be few teens still on the street. A smirk crossed Allie's face.

I think I'll go by the soda fountain and get a magazine or two. Almost no one will be there so it's a good time to test the real me.

 

Allie walked into the empty store and stood in front of the magazine rack. The owner, an older refugee woman, smiled at her.

"You're a new one around here, Miss. A girl who carries herself like a real lady like you do is always welcome."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Mrs. Kaplan had a reputation for figuring people out at first glance. That she viewed Allie as a girl boosted the teen's confidence.

The emerging girl reached for a copy of Seventeen and flipped through the pages. She closed it suddenly lest she give herself by blushing at the ads for bras and panty girdles.

Mrs. Kaufman smiled pleasantly at Allie and put down the newspaper she was reading.

"You look so pretty, like such a nice person, too. A girl like you must be very careful of who she let's herself be alone with." English was clearly not Mrs. Kaufman's first language. "There were many, many girls like you in Berlin before the Nazis came. Believe me, I lived through it all. And it wasn't just the Nazis. Plenty of people will hurt those they don't understand. You hear me?"

"I promise I'll be careful. And Mrs. Kaufman, thank you for caring."

As Allie spoke, she glanced down at the paper Mrs. Kaufman had been reading. The headline told of a college age boy who was found dead. He was clad only in panties when his body was discovered!

That's awful. It's like they think people will gloat over the death of that boy. Mrs. Kaufman knew I'm really a boy and she accepted me for it and even tried to give me a friendly warning. I guess there are some good people, people who can accept girls like me. But are there places where we can live safely as who we are? And would I fit in?

Allie paid Mrs. Kaplan and left the soda fountain. Ron entered just in time to hold the door for Allie who gave him a smile by way of thanks. Ron hurriedly bought a pack of cigarettes and called to Allie as he tried to catch up to her.

"Are you calling me?"

"Yeah. Say, I know you from someplace but where? Or is that you remind of someone?"

"Well, I've been to lots of places so suppose you tell me who I remind you of."

"I…I don't know but…"

"You don't know! Really, I have no time to waste on boys with stale pickup lines."

Ron was as disconcerted as he was when Allie, still in the guise of Allan, had stood up to him in school. Allie, seeing the confusion and discomfort on Ron's face began to enjoy herself immensely.

"Look, it's late. Let me give you lift home."

"Why do you think I need a lift? Do I look like I can't walk on my own? Or is it that you think I can't take care of myself?"

"No, no. I just thought it would be a nice way for us to get to know each other."

"But you just said you know me from some place. Well, you seem harmless enough so I will let you drive me home."

Ron cringed at being called 'harmless' by Allie. The macho boy's face betrayed to Allie that she had stuck home with her condescending acceptance of his offer of a ride. She smiled at him, but her smile was more like that of a vampire bearing her teeth at her next victim than that of a flirtatious teen.

Allie was inwardly beaming as Ron held the passenger door open for her. (No, 'she' and 'her' are not typos. We'll give Allie the courtesy of recognizing a truly femme trannie as female when she's dressed.) He walked around to the driver's side and got in. Awkwardly, Ron reached toward Allie's fall.

"You've got pretty hair."

"Thanks but I'll thank you not to touch my hair or any other part of me. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Not nearly as sorry as you'll be if you try to get fresh."

Ron nodded, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking space.

"Where to?"

Allie gave him directions to her street but told him to park a few houses away from her own.

She leaned over and brought her face close to Ron's. He squirmed as he felt the girl/boy's breath on his neck.

"I do want to thank you for being so nice and for respecting me for being a lady."

Her lips brushed over his as her hand slid over his lap. Ron started to put his arms around her but stopped as he felt her hand grasp his balls through his jeans.

"Try anything and I'll rip them off."

He yelped as her tightening grip told him she was not to be taken lightly.

To his surprise and embarrassment his cock was stiffening as this petite girl took physical and emotional control of what should have been an easy and anonymous petting session.

"I think you like this," said Allie disdainfully. "Poor dear is all hot and bothered. Let me help you."

Ron moaned in anticipation as Allie unzipped his jeans and wrapped her hand over his cock. Again, her lips brushed over his but no kiss followed. Her fingers circled the rim of the anguished boy's cockhead and then pulled away. Suddenly Ron's cock twitched and spurted cum all over the front of his jeans.

"That was wild," panted Ron.

"Thanks again, Ron."

"No need to thank me. You just came. Too bad you were so quick. It could have been fun."

Ron was taken back by the girl's disdainful comment.

"Can I see you again?"

"You will, if you're lucky."

"Give me your number so I can phone you"

"No need to call me. You might just hear from me if I'm in the mood."

"But how will you know how to get in touch with me?"

"Call it feminine intuition." As she spoke Allie kissed her finger tips, moved her hand near Ron's mouth and then, much to Ron's disappointment, placed her finger tips on his cheeks. She slid out of the car, turned, leaned in the door.

"Just drive off now. There'll be hell to pay if my folks think I accepted a ride home in a car driven by a strange boy, a very strange boy." Again, that predatory smile caused Ron to wince.

She waited and Ron had turned the corner before walking down the street to the two family house where she lived with her mother.

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Allie showered and got into bed. He reclined against his pillow as he studied the articles and ads in "Seventeen." He felt his penis twitch and begin to rise as he thought about the wonderful sensations that must come with donning these pretty garments, with admiring one's image in a full length mirror. The awakening girl within could hardly wait to experiment with the power and control she knew she would wield once she learned the flirtatiously modest postures he had so long envied in real girls.

A tap on his door precipitated a momentary and very minor crisis. Should he allow his mother to see him reading, studying would be a more accurate word, a girls' magazine? Of course he should. Mother had always been supportive of his gentle ways so there was no reason to hide Allie from her. He would take his chances and not hide the magazine. Mummy would find out sooner or later. She always did. He really wanted her to know now.

"Come in, Mummy"

He smiled at her. She was elegant and sexy in her robe that concealed her from midcalf to her neckline.

"I saw your light on so I thought I would come in to say good-night." She couldn't help but notice the magazine. Allie had left it face up and open to a full page ad showing a slender girl in a matching bra and panty set while she held in both hands the panty girdle that complemented the ensemble.

"That is such an adorable color," mother smiled as she spoke. "I think you really would like to wear an ensemble of underthings like these. I'm right, aren't I?"

Allie nodded sheepishly.

"Darling, I'm so glad we're having this talk. When you were little I wondered if you might be happier as a girl but lots of boys seem that way and later give it up only to live in desperation as they pretend to be something they're not. I just had to give you the chance to be a boy."

Mother's eyes teared as she and Allie shared their feelings.

"We really should spend a weekend at a nice beach resort town somewhere; a long weekend as mother and daughter. That'll give you the chance to spend some time being who you were really meant to be and to experiment with different attitudes. We can find time to visit a ladies specialty shop that caters to teens as well as young women. Relax, my darling. Ever since you were a toddler I've suspected that the real you was more girl than boy; no, not really suspected. I've always known deep inside that you would be a happier, better person as a girl. This was something that you had to discover for yourself, something that had to come from within you and not from me. It would have been destructive of me to push you into being a girl when so many boys go through a stage where they test out girls' roles and then move on. I'm so very glad for us both that you didn't move on, that you're returning to your real self.

"You just have to be very careful who knows this until you finish high school this spring."

Again, Allie nodded.

"You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable but why did you choose this moment to accept who you are?"

"Some stuff happened in school and I just decided I would stop running away when I got teased or pushed around. I stood up to a bully and he backed off. He even tried making it up to me.

"Most of all I realized I'm tired of running away from my real self and I was going to start being me even if it's just a little bit at a time.

"Mommy, do you want to hear how I tricked the bully and how I'm going to fix him once and for all?"

When Allie finished the story of his day, Mother hugged him.

"I'm so proud of my special teen, my very special girl."

(continued)

  

  

  

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