Hasty Act?                    by: Anne O’Nonymous

 

"Ahh," sighed fourteen-year-old Joe Harper. He had spent most of the school day staring at Monica Grant, one of the prettiest girls at school. She had softly curling black hair falling to her shoulders, faultless Emerald-green eyes, a cute upturned pert nose, and a 34-24-34 well-tanned body with a pair of legs a model would be proud of. In fact, he already spent most of his school year doing that, having one hell of a crush on her. "Boy, I would love to meet her," he thought, but that was out of the question. At fourteen, going on fifteen, Joe still looked like a grade school dropout, even though he was a high school freshman. School was a pain in the ass, what with bullies, teachers who thought he was a girl, because of his long hair, and, because he was fairly intelligent, the incessant repetition of ideas he got the first time made school mostly a bore.

"What’s the ‘ahhh’ for. Nail your history again," asked Carolyn, his sister. She was two years older, a very popular blue-eyed blonde with a variable disposition. She had just entered the room with her school books. Placing her books on a table, she asked, "So how was your day? I’ve got a ton of homework from old lady Baker, and an assignment in history I have to hand in next week. It’s on the Second World War. Think you could help me?"

Joe looked at Carolyn for a moment, and said, "Sure, but I’m not going to write the whole damn thing like I did the last time."

"Write! You used your computer. I didn’t see you writing anything on paper!"

"Oh God, why do I even try. I put everything down for you. All you had to do was give the teacher your paper. Carol, do you know Monica Grant?"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Why?"

"Well, I was just thinking, maybe, I could do that assignment for you if . . . "

"If what?"

"Well, if you could introduce me to her, I might see my way clear to, umm, do that work for you!"

Carolyn thought about the idea for a few minutes, then replied, "I don’t know. I could try for you, but I can’t make any promises." She knew Monica quite well, but didn’t know how to approach her. Monica had had several boyfriends that she dropped as soon as they became too macho; she liked the quieter boys, and they were afraid to come near her because of the Jocks constantly around her.

"Please, try for me?"

Carolyn knew he had a crush on some girl, and, now, she was certain who it was! "Okay, I’ll try. I can’t promise anything."

"I’ll do anything reasonable, Carolyn. I just want a fair shot at meeting her."

"O.K., you got it!"

It was at that time that their parents entered the house, with a "We stopped at a Chinese takeout. There’s Shrimp Fried Rice, Eggrolls, and other goodies!"

Both of them loved Chinese food, and soon were gorging themselves!

"Hey, Fortune Cookies!" Joe grabbed one, pulled it apart, and read his fortune: "When you think with your feet, you forget your heart!" A second cookie yielded: "Black and white can make many shades of gray."

"Interesting," said his mother. She opened one, and read: "Don’t count your eggs before they are omelets!"

"Or scrambled," father added. His read: "Fortune can come slow, but leave fast."

After dinner, the parents settled down to watching television, the children to their homework. At about ten-thirty, they all hit the sack.

At school the next day, Joe got the usual hard time from the Jocks, the bullies, and their assorted hangers-on. He was, as usual, the butt of their dumb jokes and asinine pranks. Again, school was a bore, and he watched Monica; still, he was able to answer any teacher’s questions with ease, having heard the same thing for the umpteenth time.

This went on for several days, and Joe had given up all hope of ever meeting Monica. "Oh well," he mused, "I guess it was never meant to be. I should’ve known a girl like Monica wouldn’t want to be around somebody like me. Never should’ve thought of it in the first place."

It was about two weeks later, after school, on a Thursday, when his sister came into the room where he was reading a book (Greek Theater, of all things), and announced, "I think I can get Monica to see you, but there is a catch! You have to follow the instructions she gave me, implicitly. I’ve got them on a paper. If you don’t agree, then forget about seeing her. She’ll meet you, but under her terms."

"O.K., I’m willing. When can I meet her?"

"Well, her parents will be out of town this weekend, and mom and dad have a two-day work seminar to attend, so I guess Saturday. O.K.?"

"O.K., what should I wear, something casual, maybe?"

"Leave that up to me. I have special instructions regarding that little item."

"What special instructions? Where is this leading," Joe wondered. "Oh, well. At least I get a chance. I hope she likes me a little. She does seem to be very nice," Joe mused.

"So, do you want me to call her, or, do you want to forget the whole thing. You could always try Maggie Thomas."

"Call. I guess I can try meeting on her terms," said Joe, "O.K., I agree." He remembered what they called Maggie--the biggest slut in school! He felt so sorry for her; she once was an alcoholic, her parents went through a nasty divorce that was in most of the local papers, and someone was spreading rumors throughout the school about her sexual proclivities. Joe was one of her few friends, and that, in itself, made him an outcast.

Joe watched his sister as she went to the phone and dialed a number. After a few minutes, he heard his sister say, "Hi, Monica. Joe agrees to the terms, and wants to try this weekend." She listened for a moment, then said, "So, about nine-thirty to ten Saturday morning. I can get him ready, and have him there about, oh, nine-forty-five. Is that O.K. with you," she asked. Carolyn smiled a Cheshire grin, and said, "We’re set for this weekend!" With that, she hung up the phone, and both youngsters started in on their homework.

That night, Joe had a hard time sleeping, just thinking about meeting Monica. "Just don’t make a fool out of yourself, don’t do anything stupid," he kept thinking. "This is your chance. Don’t screw it up!"

The Friday school routine was a blur, all he could think of was Monica. He couldn’t think of anything else. At home, after school, he watched his sister bring in two bags from her car, and take them upstairs to her room.

"Whatcha got, sis?"

"Oh, nothing you want to know about, right now!"

"Oh, O.K.," Joe said, and returned to the book he was reading.

A half-hour later, there was dinner with their parents. After dinner, their parents gave them their instructions: "Carolyn, you are in charge. We will be back Sunday night, late, and I don’t want you waiting up! The number where we can be reached is on a paper right by the telephone. Any emergencies, go to either Ms. Taylor’s or Mr. Carlisle’s house. They both know where we can be called. I expect both of you to behave like adults!"

With that said, the parents received a kiss from each child, and a promise to be good and not make any trouble. A few minutes later, there was the sound of a car pulling out of the driveway. Both of them went to the door, out onto the porch and waved good-bye to their parents as they passed by.

"Well, they’re gone for the weekend. You got any homework?" Carolyn asked Joe.

"Nope! Mine’s been done since study hall. You?"

"Lucked out! O.K., you want to watch the boob tube, or . . .,"

"For awhile, what’s good?"

The two sat down and watched a game show, switched channels and watched a travel program, a sitcom, then a police chase!

"I’m getting tired! Tomorrow I get to see Monica, don’t I?"

"Oh, that’s right! I got some things for you to do tonight," Carolyn said with a grin. "I’ll go up and get the things you’ll need. You want to check the lights, front door locked, and I should have what I need in about, oh, ten minutes. O.K.?"

"Sure," answered a puzzled Joe. He wondered what he was getting into!

Ten minutes later, Joe entered his room to find a bottle of hair conditioner, hair shampoo, skin lotion and something called "Nair."

His sister entered, and said, "After you wash, put the ‘Nair’ on your arms, legs, chest . . .oh, just follow the directions. After that, use the lotion. Then, wash your hair, thoroughly, use the shampoo and conditioner I’ve left for you. You are to wear the things I’ll put out for you. Just remember the agreement."

"Yeah, yeah! I do," Joe said. After his shower, Joe dried off, read the directions and used the Nair. It sure wasn’t the most pleasant odor in the world, but he was most shocked when he washed off and saw the hair going down the drain. He remembered to use the lotion, and was surprised by the fragrance.

"Oh, there’s some dusting powder in there, don’t forget to use that," his sister said from outside the bathroom door.

"I will," Joe replied, as he started to shampoo his hair. He used the conditioner on his hair, waiting the necessary time, and washed it out. Next, he powdered himself. "Now to bed, and tomorrow, Monica!"

As he entered his bedroom, he was in shock! "Carolyn, what’s going on! What are your things doing on my bed?"

Carolyn walked in, said, "No, you wear them tonight!"

Joe looked at the nightgown. "Oh, well. If I have to, I have to! Get out of here, and let me get dressed for bed," he stated. First, he dropped the towel, and put on the pale blue satin panties. Next came a teenager’s bra, also pale blue, with a bow on the front. "Carolyn, I can’t reach the back of this thing. Can you help!"

Carolyn returned, placed two pads in the front and fastened the hooks in the back of the bra. She stayed to watch him put on a baby blue nylon nightgown. She also placed a pink chenille robe on a chair beside the bed, and a pair of pink mules under the bed. "These are for when you get up in the morning," she said, indicating the robe and slippers, "I’ll be getting you up pretty early."

At about seven in the morning, Carolyn woke him with, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Breakfast is almost ready!"

Joe got up, put on the pink robe, the pink mules, and did the necessities in the bathroom. Down stairs, Carolyn greeted him, "Scrambled eggs, Bagel with cream cheese spread, sausage, hash browns, and toast. All ready on the table. What kind of juice?"

"Orange. No coffee?"

"We’re out! When you are finished, we’ll do the dishes, and then I’ve got to get you ready!"

The big day, at last! Monica, he had almost forgotten. "O.K.," Joe replied, "just what do I have to do?" He dug into the food and soon had his belly full. One thing Carolyn could do well was cook.

"Well, I hope you’re not modest! I’ll wait ‘til the dishes are done, then, well, you’ll see!"

As soon as breakfast was over, the table was cleared, the dishes washed and put away.

Carolyn started up the stairs saying, "I’ll want you upstairs in fifteen minutes. I’m going to get dressed and get things ready for you."

Joe waited the specified time then went upstairs. He felt rather strange wearing girls clothing, but he had to admit he liked the feeling of satin panties! Upon entering his room, he saw, on his bed, a rubber sheet. At the bottom of the bed, there was something he outgrew years ago.

His sister entered the room and said, "O.K., strip off everything, get oh the bed and lay face down on the sheet.

"With you here? Can’t you turn your back or somethin’ for me?"

Carolyn obediently turned as Joe divested himself of the robe, slippers, gown, bra and panties. Naked and hairless, at least on his body, Joe got on the bed, laid face down and said, "You can turn around now." He felt something poured on his backside and gently rubbed in. "What is that stuff," Joe asked. Next sensation was of a powder being applied to him.

"Baby powder and oil. O.K., turn over!"

Joe turned over, and felt something under him. He lay there watching as his sister brought a triangular piece of soft cloth up between his legs, and two other pieces from either side of his body. "What the Hell! This is a diaper!"

"You agreed, remember," said his sister as she fastened safety pins to hold it in place.

"Yeah, I guess so."

With the diaper in place, she next held up the next article: elastic panties. She worked them up his legs, over the diaper. Now the third item came into view. A pair of rumba panties, the kind little girls wear.

"Now, can you stand up for mommie, sweetheart!" Carolyn was getting into the spirit of things. Joe stood, and waited for the next indignation. A training bra was next, then a petticoat-slip. Pointing to a chair, she said, "Sit down, I’ll put shoes and socks on you."

Joe sat down, and watched as Carolyn put a pair of knee-high socks and a pair of Mary Janes (at least he thought that was what they were) on him, and fastened the straps. When told, he rather submissively stood and waited. Sis then put the dress on him. It was an ivory-colored little girl’s party dress with a lacy underskirt and buttons up the back. She then took him to a mirror. He looked like he was eight or nine years old, and a girl to boot.

"Sis, I can’t go out looking like this!"

"Shush, sweetheart, everything’s going to be alright," his sister said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Turn around so mommie can button up the back."

Joe turned, angry with himself. He smelled something, and it wasn’t perfume.

Carolyn fastened the buttons, tied a large bow, then got up and walked over to a dresser. She came back, put a charm bracelet on Joe’s wrist and a chain with a locket around Joe’s neck. Next, two clip-on earrings. She brushed and combed Joe’s hair, pulled it back and tied a hair ribbon into a big bow on it. Next, a little foundation on the face, a little blusher and a muted Coral lipstick. He didn’t have a thick eyebrow, and was looking quite feminine.

"You gonna’ be much longer?"

"No. I’ve got a pocketbook downstairs for you." She took him over to a mirror, and showed him how pretty he looked.

Joe looked in the mirror and saw a very pretty girl looking back. She looked to be about nine or ten, just about ready to leave for a party.

"Come along, sweetheart. Your friends are waiting!" Carolyn took Jo downstairs, gave him his pocketbook, put a girl’s coat on him, and said, "My little girl looks so pretty, I’m proud of you!"

At about quarter after nine, they left, Jo following Carolyn out to her car, hoping none of the neighbors would see him. She opened the passenger side door, and when he was settled, she fastened the seatbelt. She then got in on the driver’s side, fastened her belt. To get to Monica’s house was only a fifteen minute walk, but, because of one-way streets, a bridge under repair, detours, it was a ten minute drive!

At Monica’s, Jo noticed several bikes to one side of the house. He wondered why they were there. Carolyn parked in the street in front, got out and came around to Jo’s side. "Well, here we are," she said, like he didn’t notice. She let him out, locked up the car, checked the doors, then took Jo by the hand and led him to the house. Opening the door, they walked inside. Entering the house, he saw several girls there, including Monica and Maggie. They were all dressed in boy’s shirts, sneakers, and slacks or jeans, and when they saw him, it started. Laughing, more laughing.

He felt sick, they were laughing at him, the sissy. He heard them: "Oh, look how cute he is," "Isn’t he so precious," "Oh, look at the darling little girl!" All of them, he was a joke. This was nothing but a cruel trick. How could he be so stupid, to be so utterly humiliated!

"Please, sis, I want to go home, please just take me home," he pleaded.

"No, you just got here!"

Jo had to get away from them. He couldn’t take them laughing at him; at school, now this! "PLEASE, I just want to go HOME! I’ll never ask you to do anything for me ever again, just take me home!"

"No," Carolyn said, "You don’t . . ."

She never finished, Jo pulled himself free of her hand and ran for the door. One of the girls tried to stop him, and he did something he normally would never do--he shoved her away.

"Joe! Joe, please stop! Come back, please!"

He never heard her, or at least pretended not to. Once outside, Joe ran as fast as he could, running to get away from the laughter, away from his tormenters! He started crying--something he hadn’t done for eight years. His face was streaked with tears.

"How could she! My own sister. I should have known better. I thought I could trust her, well, no more. I’m through at school. This will be all over school, now I’ll really get it!"

He didn’t care anymore. "Let them see me like this," he thought as he ran. All he wanted to do was go home. To his room, where he would be safe, secure. Joe ran down streets, across lawns, across a bridge, to his own street. Soon he would be safe. His heart was going a mile a minute, his breathing came in short gasps. Falling several times, he got up and continued like all the fiends of Hell were behind him!

Finally, his house. Here he would be safe. Opening the pocketbook, he rummaged around for the door key.

"Was it there? Did she leave it out on purpose?" Joe thought.

At the bottom of the bag was a key, a door key! Turning, he saw Carolyn’s car coming up the street. Quickly, he put the key in the lock, turned it and when the door opened, he rushed inside, and slammed the door shut. He fled upstairs, up to the safety of his room. Once inside, he locked the door, shoved a chair under the doorknob, turned his CD-player on full blast, Ravel’s "Bolero." "Hah," he thought, "rather appropriate!"

The clothing was the first thing to go! He ripped it off, removing everything in any way he could. After he was naked, he put his own boy clothes on. Now, he felt a Hell of a lot better. The torn and mutilated clothes wound up as pieces of cloth scattered everywhere. He opened a window and tossed the offending rags out. He found all of the bottles of stuff she left, and that followed. The yard was slowly starting to resemble a trash dump. The locket, earrings and bracelet he kept as a constant reminder of his sister’s perfidy.

Next, he looked for the noisiest, most violent PC game he could find, and loaded that, turning the volume up as high as possible. Every kill was Carolyn, Monica, Maggie, or another one of those bitches at that house.

"Joe, Joe, please open this door. I’ve got to talk to you. Please open the door," Carolyn pleaded.

Joe ignored her. Blam--that was Monica! Blam--that was Carolyn! "Go away, forever! I don’t want anything to do with you, Monica, or any of your friends. I was stupid to even trust you in the first place!"

"She’ll get tired soon," Joe thought. He set his CD-player to repeat, and he played the PC on and on, vowing he would not come out of his room ‘til his parents came home.

"Joe, you open this door, NOW!" Carolyn practically screamed, trying to be heard above the racket inside. She started banging on the door to get his attention. "Come on, Joe, I just want to talk." After a while, the banging was hurting her knuckles. She tried a new tactic, "I’ll call mom and dad. They won’t be too happy about this."

"Who cares. I sure don’t," Joe thought. "Go ahead and call. Maybe they would like to hear what you did to me." Joe had a trump to play, "maybe they would also like to hear about the time you got drunk at that party." He felt he no longer owed her anything, certainly not his friendship, and he said, "in fact, if you don’t stop bothering me, I’m going to tell mom and pop all when they get home."

Carolyn was crushed; she had confided in him every dark secret she had. "O.K., you win!"

"Now, just go away! I don’t want to speak to you ever again."

Joe spent the rest of the day in his room, eating what candy bars he had socked away. He listened to his CD-player and played the PC. Mostly, he cried! All he was was a joke, something to be laughed at. He felt that he faced a future of loneliness; that he could accept, but not the laughter.

That night, a lonely fourteen-year-old boy named Joe Harper cried himself to a fitful sleep.

In a house not too far away, a lonely girl with softly curling black hair falling to her shoulders, faultless Emerald-green eyes, and a cute upturned pert nose cried herself to sleep.

 

 

That’s all folks--Annie O

 

 

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