Helpless                       by: Rachel Ann Cooper              © 2000

 

"Trent, would you mind helping me clear this table? You're 13 now and with your father away 2 and 3 weeks at a time, I really could use a little more help than I get from you. Does that sound fair?" "Ah, Mom, that's girl's work. Why do I have to do it? The yard is hard enough for a kid my size." "I'm not forcing you dear but first of all, work is work. What needs doing, you do. You may see housework as girl's work but there are millions of bachelors out there who have to keep house too you know and you might be one of them. Don't you think it might come in handy to know how to do it ahead of time? You don't want to be helpless if you don't get married do you?"

Darn Mom! She was always so blasted logical. It seemed no matter what my problem was, she could make sense of it for me and I didn't stand a chance. "OK. You win. What do you want me to do right now and what are you going to want me to do later, 'cause I just know you're going to teach me all about this stuff aren't you?" Without skipping a beat or really answering his full question: "Well, for now dear, just clear the table. Although, I do have some mending to do and it would be very nice of you to wash the dishes too, if you would." "OK. I get the picture." I got the dishes into the sink and just as I was squirting some soap into the sink, Mom came up behind me and I found myself in her red and white pinafore apron with her tying the cords behind me. I just looked up at her (at 5'6" she was two inches taller than me) and grimaced.

Her answer was,"well, there's no point in your getting all wet is there, and you're bound to do more splashing than I would, aren't you?" "Yes, I guess so. Alright, I'll wear the apron." I remembered I'd forgotten the butter dish and went back into the dining room and right past the glass mirrored wall. The apron surrounded me. With my shorts and sneakers and my long hair and slender arms, I looked almost like a darn girl. The sight gave me a little shiver but of course I'd never wear a dress with sneakers. That would look really gross. I’d at least wear flats. Holy cow! What a dumb idea. With the dishes done and some unspoken gratitude for Mom making me wear the apron as it did get well splashed, I returned to the living room and the early evening sit-coms. It wasn't long until it became evident that doing the dishes was going to be my little contribution to mealtimes if, in fact, it stopped there. I didn't like it but I supposed it was fair. After all, Mom had been feeding and cleaning up after me all these years and it didn't take that long. After a couple of weeks however, Saturday morning, when Jay and I (the kid next door) usually vegged out watching cartoons, Mom had a new agenda for her bachelor in training.

It was called house cleaning and she did it every Saturday. She told me it would only take two hours and then I could do whatever I wanted the rest of the day except for the dishes. Naturally, Mom had to work and the only day she could clean was Saturday. She was very religious and wouldn't work after church on Sunday. She began by showing me how to dust properly with the duster and the sprays and cloth on the wood furniture right after she made me put on that darned apron again. Her logic circuits in full bloom, she told me," Well, you don't want to get all over dust and furniture polish, do you?" The answer, of course, was, "No, Mom. Thanks."

Thank heaven it was only a small three bedroom house all on one floor. Well, that took me an hour of the two and then Mom came and inspected my work, giving me a little advice and making me polish a little harder in spots. After that was done she declared, "Alright Trent, now you know how to do it properly so next time, I'll expect to see it just as well done, alright?" "Yes Mom." Why argue with the inevitable, right?

"Alright now, what do you think comes after dusting? Remember where the dust went?" "On the floors?" "Exactly. Time to vacuum. I noticed that as I was walking back and forth, my hair kept brushing my shoulders and falling in my face and so I stopped and tied it back with a rubber band like most of the guys did at school. That was much better, especially in the dining room with that mirrored wall where the combination of the apron and my hair and the vacuum cleaner made me again equate this all with girl's work despite my Mom's logical arguments. Why I didn't take off the apron after dusting was another question. I suppose it wasn't' worth the trouble until I knew I was through with "MY" housework. After she once again inspected my work and pronounced it OK, I took off the apron and called Jay over.

I was looking forward to my Dad coming home that night. Of course, he'd only be there until Monday morning, but I liked my Dad. We never got to hang out because he was always on the road selling office equipment to large corporations but when he came home, we had a good rapport. Not that he was much of a macho guy or anything. He was only about 5'8" tall and slightly built and very well mannered and polite with everyone. We lived well enough and never wanted for anything we needed, not that I was looking forward to a having my own Corvette parked in the driveway in a few years, but we were comfortable. Dad invested in his company's stock and some mutual funds and had one of the Individual Retirement Accounts just in case Social Security went broke before he retired. Dad was smart. I guess I took after him a little as my grades were pretty good now that I was in junior high.

Mom and Dad usually went to bed a little early when he came home, even earlier than me sometimes. Sometimes I could hear them talking in the bedroom. Other times I could hear Mom making weird noises. I wasn't dumb. It was a little strange thinking of my parents "doing it" but then, how else did I get here? I got the impression "it" was a lot of fun although I wasn't interested in any girls except as friends yet. Diane was OK. Sometimes I'd go to her house or she to mine and we'd play on the computer or do board games or puzzles. She was smart. I don't know why she liked me but she treated me like a real friend, not just like a typical boy. She said she thought I was 'cute'. Sometimes she'd even say 'sweet'. I took it as a compliment, coming from a girl. You never know what's really on a girl's mind though, so I didn't know how she really meant that or anything else for that matter. I didn't understand girls very well but I was beginning to get the idea that maybe I'd like to.

Dad left as planned and life resumed as usual. I got used to the apron. Then one night Mom decided to show me how to make spaghetti sauce and I got it on her apron. The spot barely came out in the wash and so Mom announced that if I was going to ruin aprons, I might as well ruin my own and promptly went out and got me two of my own. I tell you, there was nothing remotely masculine about them either. They had ribbons and piping and a little lace. "Mom, I can't wear these! Just look at how...how feminine they are." "I'm sorry dear but there weren't many choices and I did the best I could." I wouldn't admit it to Mom but I rather liked the one with the satin bow at the front of the waist. And they both had nice pockets in them also trimmed in satin. The real problem came when I saw myself in them in the mirror. Oh boy, did I ever look girlish, even more like I were wearing a dress. Now I really was suspicious of what Diane meant by 'cute'. These aprons really did look like dresses with my bare legs showing from just above my smooth knees and with my loafers on.

That was another problem. I was a natural blond and what little body hair I had was hard to see, so there was nothing in the mirror to re-enforce my masculine image in contrast to the aprons. My housework went along this way for several weeks until Mom was satisfied I had learned my first lessons well. Then, in addition to my helping her in the kitchen more and more, she showed me all about how to do laundry. I had no idea it was so complicated with separating and temperatures and adding so much of this and that and then folding and ironing. And through all of it, I wore one of my pretty aprons. It WAS housework, after all, and yes, I admit they were pretty and I was getting used to them, maybe even to like them. I wasn't even embarrassed anymore if Jay caught me in one and that was a real revelation for me. Did I enjoy looking pretty in my aprons or was it just that my aprons were pretty?

He knew Mom needed help and just accepted the new me as is. The first time he saw me like that was about two weeks after I'd gotten them., He just couldn't resist a wisecrack though. "My, don't you look sweet," he fired. My reply to that was,"Yeah, sweet enough to punch your lights out." "Well, it IS a pretty apron Trent," he said." I think you look very nice in it." "Yeah, it is, isn't it? I heard myself reply wondering why I was accepting a compliment on anything looking 'pretty' on me. "I was frankly bewildered at how I had come to appreciate my pretty aprons or why Jay would say I looked nice in it. He was a boy and boys just don't give each other those kinds of compliments...ever! Well, MOST boys wouldn’t but Jay...

After all, they were just there to protect my clothes and I was glad Mom had gotten me the pinafore kind that really covered me even if they did make me look like I was wearing a dress. I got used to it after a while. With the laundry lessons came ironing. Mom started me out ironing flat stuff until I could do it without wrinkling it and then we went on to some cotton blend shirts. She started me out on my dad's hankies. Now, it's not something I'd like to do for a living but ironing didn't seem all that hard for me once I got used to how to turn things and keep them pulled tight, even the collars. There wasn't that much ironing to do anyway but when I got good at it, Mom even let me do her stuff. Her blouses were so much nicer to handle than my shirts and her slips felt really neat too. I'd never felt a slip before, so light and smooth and silky. One day out of the blue the thought crossed my mind,'gee, girls clothes must be neat to wear if they all feel like this. I wonder what it feels like to wear a silky dress?'

I reproached myself for that unmanly thought at once and got on with my chores. Jay had become a little disenchanted with the time my housework took from our free time together and one day, out of the blue said, "would it help you get done sooner if I helped too?" "Well, of course," I replied. "Are you ready for a pretty apron too," I teased? Funny thing was, his answer was a rather serious "sure, why not. I think they're really neat." So I had a new recruit and broke him in on all the stuff Mom had taught me and loaned him one of my pretty aprons. I'll give him this, he seemed to really get into it and we did have more time to shoot hoops or watch TV and play video games. Mom didn't mind as long as the work got done.

A couple weeks after he began helping, we three went to the mall and Mom asked Jay if he'd like his own apron instead of borrowing mine. He thought that was a great idea. "Would you like to pick it out," she asked him? "Could I really pick my own?" "Of course," she said, and we went to the kitchen shop and let him browse. You would not believe (and for that matter neither did I) the frilly, ultra feminine apron he picked out. "Are you sure about this Jay," my mother asked? "Oh, yes. I really like this one. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" And so Jay one upsed me in the apron department. All of a sudden, I wanted to get even, to keep one step ahead of him. He looked even more girlish than me in his new apron and I was scheming about what I could do to even up the clothing score and (oh my) to look even more girlish than he did and the silky dress idea flashed back.

The next Saturday that we worked, I got my revenge for his remark. "My, you look simply darling in that," I said, doing my best imitation of what I thought a girl might say complete with gestures. Jay bowled me over with, "why, thank you Trent. That’s really sweet. I'm glad you think so." What I said and how I said it didn’t even phase him. Kind of made me wonder about my old pal, but then, who was I to talk after thinking about how nice girl’s clothing must feel to wear? I wondered why he hadn't called me on using the word 'darling'.

I had come to like MY pretty aprons too. Were we turning into a couple of wimps or what or were we already? Next thing you know, we'll be in skirts and heels and primping with our hair, I thought. I'd been helping Mom out all summer and now knew just about all I needed to know to keep house except for the cooking. I was still learning about that part and I suppose one never does learn it all. If I did end up a bachelor, at least I wouldn't starve. I was able to make a reasonable pot roast and a few other dishes by the end of summer and surprised my Dad by cooking Sunday dinner for him in late August.

"Trent," he said kidding, "you're going to make someone a great little wife." I played it completely straight as he and Mom were already laughing. "Thanks Dad. I'm working on it." Funny. He never said a negative word about my pretty aprons or Jay's either. He did remark about how he appreciated my helping Mom though. It was nice that he knew and appreciated it. With school starting, Mom wanted me to get my hair cut. I'd let it grow all summer as had Jay and it was now down to my shoulder blades. I thought it was neat but she told me I didn't take good enough care of it and insisted that if I wanted it long that I'd have to really put some time in on it adding that it would give me an appreciation for why so many girls were busy during the week taking care of their hair and nails and other beauty rituals. She allowed as how Jay took better care of his which I guess was true.

Mine felt frayed at the ends and didn't have much shine or body like his did. I was adamant about not getting it cut and so the next thing I knew we were at the unisex salon and I was getting a trim and a body perm. Well, lots of men get perms now but boy, does that stuff stink! And all those rollers and that dryer that I cooked under for over an hour because of the length of my hair with nothing to read but women's magazines. My operator, Moreen, had told me there was a complimentary manicure with any perm that week and so I had a professional one and my hands never looked better. They had also never looked so pretty and feminine. There was just clear polish on them but she made them look just like Dianes', rounded and a little too long. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I really liked the way they looked. Heck, I LOVED the way they looked. What was wrong with me anyway?

I saw a lot of really beautiful heads of hair in the magazines and wondered if mine could ever look as beautiful and shiny as theirs. What was I thinking? Those were GIRLS! There were lots of beautiful clothes in there too. They looked really soft and fun to wear and so many choices. Boys never got so many choices. I was beginning to feel like boy’s clothes were really dull and if I told myself the truth, I guess I was a little jealous. I wondered what I’d look like in a real pinafore rather than just an apron.

I'm afraid I got a little bit of an education in cosmetics too, discovering what did what and why. Well, knowledge is power, my mom says. 'Get real, Trent! You're a boy, remember?' You don't need to know about this stuff. 'So?' I answered back to myself. Well, I left with my hair in a pony tail again but this time tied at the crown with a covered band and it looked much, much fuller. It was so full and shiny and I'm afraid a little too curly, but I loved it long like that even if it did swish back and forth across my neck and tickle me.

Our next stop was a little traumatizing for me. We went to the dollar store and Mom bought a sack load of hair care products, shampoo, conditioners, rollers, rods, combs, clips and bows, you name it, it was in there and it was all for me. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. Now I got a glimpse of what some of my night time hours were going to be like from now on if I wanted to keep my mane, and I did. Well, I don't want to look like a bum with scraggly long hair like some of the guys but I'm not wearing any of those bows to school. Of course, and again by default, I forgot to say to myself that I wouldn't wear them at home either. I'll just bite the bullet, I guess.

While we were there she bought me a new pair of slippers too. They were just scuffs but they had a criss cross vamp and an open back with about a 2" inch wedge heel. They were soft and...pretty...like my aprons. At least they weren't pink! White was bad enough, all fluffy and everything. I decided I really liked my new slippers too and sometimes I wore them doing my housework. Mom slowly and painstakingly taught me how to take care of my hair, making me wash and condition and deep condition once a week and taught me how to roll it up and style it. I wanted it to look extra nice for church so I'd go through the pain of sleeping in rollers over the weekend just like Diane.

I was beginning to get rave compliments from some of Mom's friends and Diane about my hair. Some of the girls at school even complimented me on my pretty hair. Yes, they said pretty. Well, I suppose it was. Heaven knows I put enough time in it. Jay came right out and told me he was jealous and began doing a routine on his hair too after I agreed to show him how. Diane said it was too bad the other boys didn't care for their hair like I did and she also wondered out loud why I didn't keep my nails as nice as my hair one day when we were having tea with Mom. She had seen how nice they were when I came back from the salon but I didn't keep them up the way I should have even though they were a little longer now.

Jay's hair wasn't as long as mine but it was shoulder length and his nails were in just as bad shape. "What's wrong with my nails," I asked? "Oh, nothing, if you like looking at split, soft nails." "Well, they just won't grow and they're soft. They keep tearing. What can I do?" Diane said,"I have just the thing. I'll be right back.

She ran out the door to her place and was back in five minutes with a bottle and a box of capsules. They were both called 'Ultra Fem-Gel' and the product said it was "for strong, healthy hair and nails." My mom asked Diane if it was safe and she said, "Oh sure, just look at mine." Well, I didn't fancy having claws quite THAT long but she did have pretty hands and I agreed to try it for a while. Mom got out her kit and gave me a manicure, getting rid of the snags and put a couple coats of the Fem-Gel liquid on them. The first coat soaked right in. It dried rather shiny on the second coat and I took my first capsule. Diane bubbled, "you'll just love having nice looking hands Trent. You'll see. It may take a few months but you'll come to appreciate how much this will do for your nails, especially protecting them from housework." "Alright, I'm convinced. I'll use it. Thanks Diane and Mom."

I told Jay what Diane had given me and he thought it was a good idea and went out and bought some for himself, beginning to take a little more pride in his appearance too. He had seen the array of things I used to take care of my hair and very soon, his was looking nice too. "Your hair is looking really nice Jay. Are you following my Mom's advice too?" "Yes, I just can't have you being ashamed of me after all. Yours looks so pretty." There it was again, 'pretty! and that meant Jay wanted his hair to be pretty too, like a girl’s, like mine.

Time marches on and sure enough the coating and capsules were helping both of our nails to grow and stay hardened. I was on my third box of capsules and ready for a fourth and my hair appeared thicker and more luxuriant. On his last couple visits home, Dad had remarked that I was looking very nice lately, well groomed and all. I think Mom took a little poetic license with that remark at Christmas because she got me a beautiful, long nightshirt made of navy blue satin and a satin robe and slippers to match. They were very pretty. She also got me a pinafore and somehow, I just knew I was going to wear it.

The nightshirt had about a three inch elastic waist that made me look like I had ‘hips’ and looked suspiciously like Mom's nighties but it was plain with no frills and was long sleeved as was the robe. When I tried it on for the first time that night before brushing my hair, I noticed how well it fit. I had little bumps though, just where you might expect a young girl my age or younger to have budding breasts, and the elastic made my waist look tiny while making me look like I had softly flaring hips like a girl too. With my new matching satin mid heeled slippers on, I stood in front of my mirror and saw a disturbing image.

It was me but I had pubescent curves and pretty hair and longish rounded nails at the tips of slender hands on my 5'4" body. My face looked strangely softer. I got goose bumps and two of them were protruding from my night shirt! The 'fight or flight' reflex hit me. Did I love this or hate it? I was cute and I do not mean ‘boy’ cute. Was my love of long hair turning me into a fairy princess and was Mom prodding the process? Was I going to lose my glass slipper at the ball? And why was I feeling aroused in my groin over my appearance ? I reached up and touched those little mounds in my gown. Yes, I did think of it as a gown, not a nightshirt because it felt so wonderfully soft and silky like Mom's stuff. It wasn't heavy like I thought a man's nightshirt would be.

They became harder and pronounced and I couldn't believe how it made me feel. Oh, boy! 'Get a grip, Trent. You're a kid. Kid's bodies change. So your's is changing. It's called puberty. There isn't much you can do about it anyway right? Right! Just go with the flow and calm down'. I tried but I tossed and turned some first.

That night I dreamed about full, round, luscious bumps under a pretty black jersey dress. When I came down to breakfast in the new stuff and my satin slippers after doing my hair, Mom and Dad were both effusive in their compliments on my appearance and I blushingly accepted their praise especially with some of the adjectives they used, terribly feminine adjectives I’m afraid. I don't even want to write them down here but there wasn't even one 'handsome' in the bunch. Frankly, I thought I looked a little too much like the girl I dreamed about but they didn't seem to mind. Why he didn’t say anything about the slippers, I don’t know. How many boys wear pretty slippers with 2" slender heels? I loved them though and so did Diane. She asked me where I got them. She wanted a pair just like them.

Mom wouldn't let me help with the dishes until I got out of that outfit though and so I came back with a nice top and slacks and loafers and put on my apron and finished up my chores. Mom actually taught me how to fix Christmas dinner and seemed very grateful for the help. Dad did his Dad thing and watched football games. Christmas vacation for adults doesn't last long so Dad was back to work and gone again. Mom let me wear my new nightshirt a week and then it disappeared into the laundry, leaving me with my scratchy old pajamas. I had really developed a liking for the soft and silky satin and bemoaned the loss to the wash basket since the pajamas really irritated my nipples and I let Mom know.

"Would you like me to get you another one honey," Mom asked? "Would you Mom? I love how it feels. I never knew silky clothing could make you feel so good." "Sure honey. That's why girls wear it too. I have to get a few things at the market anyway. I'll pick you up something nice." Uh...mom...instead of an apron...could I maybe wear...like... a uniform to do my housework in?" "A uniform Trent? Oh, yes, I think I know what you mean. That might look nice. Alright. We’ll see." And with that, she went shopping. I was not prepared for what she came home with though, even though I'm afraid I didn't protest loudly enough. The new 'nightshirt' was nice alright, blatantly a beautiful girl's nightie and made me think that now I had the upper hand on Jay's apron. He might have a prettier apron but I had a beautiful nightgown now. Ha! It had long full sleeves, what they call a peasant style neckline in stretch lace that could be worn at the shoulders and just dripping with ribbons and toule lace which was also at the hem and I was sure I'd be able to see my tender little cones through it and so would Mom. I just knew Jay would be jealous. Why did I care? I just knew I was developing little titties and that Mom knew it too. Why didn’t Dad say anything?

If that wasn't bad enough, she got me another pair of pretty slippers, only this time they had a three inch heel and they weren't wedges either. They looked just like Mom's. She called them ‘mules’. They WERE very pretty, both the gown and the slippers. "Mom, what are we doing here? I don't mind helping you with the housework or keeping my hair and nails nice but don't you think we're going 'round the bend here? I'm supposed to be a boy, aren't I? and what’s with these bumps I’m growing and my butt?" "Before I answer that, why don’t you try on your new uniform for housework? I tried to find something nice for you." "Really?" "In this box."

"Don't you like your soft, pretty things Trent? Don't even bother to answer. We both know you DO and I'm afraid when I saw the little bumps in your robe on Christmas, it put ideas in my head. You looked so sweet and I flashed on what you might have looked like as our daughter. Certainly your old boys pajamas must feel simply horrid against your chest, don't they?" (blushing) "Yes. I'm so soft and tender there lately and it looks like I'm getting soft little cones there almost like a girl. My pajamas irritate me something awful. Could I be getting the beginnings of breasts Mom? Is that possible?"

"Yes sweetheart, it IS possible and if that is what happens, then it is God's will and we shouldn't go against it, should we?" There was that Mom logic again. "No, I suppose not but it's very confusing the way I'm feeling and looking and all." "Will you model your new gown and slippers for me honey?" "Sure Mom. If you promise not to make fun of me." "Darling, I'd never do that." Well, I went and undressed and put my arms in the sleeves and let that lovely gown fall down around me and then stepped into my new slippers. They felt only a little higher than the other ones but they were very sexy and girlish. Then I went again to the mirror and sure enough, I could see through well enough to discern those enlarging, darkening, every expanding little cones. My hair was flowing gently about my shoulders and I turned this way and that, admiring my new slippers and my new bumps and got the chills again. I was glad for my spandex bikini briefs even though they were men's.

Not that my manhood was worth mentioning but I'm afraid I was sexually excited by what I saw and that was a real revelation. I'd had a few damp dreams but was otherwise rather naive. I had to admit I looked like a young girl who simply had no makeup on. Why had I even thought about makeup? Well, it was moment of truth time and I went down and modeled for Mom. She just looked at me and didn't say a word. She didn't have to. I could see her holding back the tears and her lip quiver a little. I do believe she wouldn't mind if I turned out to be a daughter instead of a son. I'm not even sure Dad would mind. Puberty was beginning to be very weird. I didn't know I had a CHOICE or that there were any options. After a few turns on my new high heeled slippers, I went back to my room and changed into something a little more boyish. I swear I was beginning to walk like a girl. I swished...confidently!

Then I opened the box with my ‘uniform’ in it. It was like those dresses nurses wear, all white and nylon and very thin. There was a slip in with it. I put them on with the mid heeled white pumps that were also in the box. Oh boy, I was in trouble. My new work uniform was a dress and heels...and then in hit me. What was I asking Mom for when I asked for a uniform? Wasn’t this exactly what I really wanted? Pretty soon I’d be needing a bra too and the picture would be complete.

When I returned, Mom's glistening eyes were replaced with a warm and loving hug. "You are a sweet child," she said. After that, I always wore a nightie and pretty slippers and Mom just couldn't resist giving me a pedicure with a little pretty polish on the weekends. It would never do in gym class, not boy's gym anyway. My nightie and slipper wardrobe expanded into pretty flats and high heeled pumps and I was right. Jay was jealous, especially of my new uniform. I couldn't resist showing him and modeling for him and although everything I had on was totally girlish and feminine, including the panties that went with the nighties, the slip and the uniform dress, he begrudgingly said I looked pretty in them.

Jay and I didn't have any secrets and after I modeled for him, he asked if he could try on a gown and it was then that I saw he had little breasts too. This was very strange. Had we both caught something contagious? Did this happen to all boys for a while at puberty? I was letting my nails grow and they looked very nice, almost as nice as Diane's now and my ideas about having long nails had seemed to have undergone revision. Claws were neat. Jay and I were now in a definite competition for length and condition of hair and nails. I have an idea that Diane and Mom talked at some point because in addition to my Ultra Fem-gel routine, Mom added some sort of vitamin pill with my morning juice, one I'd never seen and she didn't explain what it was either.

Whatever it was, it certainly had an effect on my hair growth and nails too. I asked her if Jay could have some too and although she was a little hesitant, she said OK and he began taking them too. She knew he was taking the Ultra Fem-Gel and taking care of his hair, now also much prettier and his bumps had not escaped her gaze either. She didn't know about our little contest though. Jay hounded his Mom and she finally let him get a nightshirt like I had, not a gown or a dress...yet, but I had an idea that he was going to try as he so admired mine and how I looked in them.

I also noticed that as mid terms were upon us, I seemed to be getting definitely round and soft, more pear shaped than I had been before and I was always a little pear instead of an apple. I always had more hips and less waist than most of the other guys and my butt was looking really nice in a tight pair of jeans, a little too nice and I didn’t fit into boy’s jeans very well. I had always been ashamed to be seen by other guys naked. The area around my nipples got darker and bigger and underneath seemed to be getting hard. I was worried and went to Mom and she gave me (gulp) my first breast exam. She assured me it was perfectly normal and not to worry. She said it was just my milk glands enlarging. " MILK GLANDS?" "Mom, I don't plan on nursing a baby."

"Well honey, that may be, but you are looking less and less like a Trent and more like a Tina or Teresa and a Tina would want nice breasts. nursing or not." "Oh, MOM, please!" "Well, you know it's true honey and so does Jay and even your daddy has noticed how attractive you two are becoming. Jay seems to be changing and becoming more girlish too. It's not just your bodies changing. You’re acting like young ladies too dear." "Is Daddy upset Mom?" "No honey. Your daddy loves you. You are our child no matter what and we'll stand behind you whenever you need us as long as we live and that's a promise.

"You are showing signs of really blossoming dear. May I measure you?" "I can do it in your nightie if you're bashful." "Yes, go ahead. I'm rather curious myself. Diane says she and I are about the same size now everywhere, if you know what I mean. I'm getting a little self conscious about how I jiggle when I run and the boys are making cracks about Jay and me." "I'll get my tape. Back in a flash." It seems I now measured for a 32A bra with a 23 inch waist and a 34 inch fanny. No wonder Diane said that. "What size am I Mom?" "About a 5 or 7 I'd say in a petite. We really should get you into a bra sweetheart and maybe we could find some more appropriate clothes that fit better." The words hit me like a truck. I NEEDED a brassiere and what did she mean by ‘more appropriate clothes? "Mom, what am I going to do about gym class? I’m beginning to think I LIKE what’s happening and I can’t believe how much I like my gowns and dresses and heels but...!" and I trailed off.

"I'll talk to your principal and see what we can arrange honey right after we go see the doctor and confirm my suspicions." Well, we got the bra, make that bras, first, and I wore one to the doctor's along with the definitely pretty orchid blouse Mom got me. A man held the door open for me as we entered the building. I guess he thought I was a girl. Poor dope. The doctor took blood and the test came back and said I WAS chemically a GIRL. That was probably why I'd always been pear shaped and my genitals were so small. I mean, they were really pitiful. I’d always been embarrassed about them...until now.

Little did I know at the time that what Diane and Mom had been feeding me had stimulated a latent pair of ovaries, yes, real egg factories inside my body. He said that by the time I was 16 I'd be a fully developed teen girl especially if Mom and Dad would consent to removal of the other factories that were at war with my ovaries. She said she'd have to wait until he came home again so we could all discuss this major decision together. It was funny. OK, peculiar.

Through all of this, and Jay saw it all including my tits that were filling out nicely and my painted toes and my expanding rear, he stuck by me too, especially since the same thing was essentially happening to him although at somewhat a slower rate. He and I both were beginning to look and act like girls. We giggled and jiggled and wiggled a lot and although our relationship stayed the same, it's character changed. Our school relationships changed too. We hung with the girls, protected by them and shunned by the boys.

Diane seemed enchanted by what was happening to us and made no bones about how girlishly cute we were becoming. I finally invited Diane up and showed her my wardrobe and she insisted I model it and my shoes. Well, she about went nuts over me and wanted to put me into a party dress right then and there having already seen me in my so-called work uniform.

"Oh, Trent" she said. This is wonderful. I have another girl friend." At that point I about lost it and must have been cherry red but I had looked into the crystal ball and she was right. I could no longer deny it so I told her about my ovaries. Well, she would not let me stop until she had the whole story, which she pledged to keep secret. Yeah, right! I just had to put it to Jay one day and asked him why he had stuck by me. "Friends are friends Trent," he said. "Besides, it looks like we're in the same boat anyway. Don't you just love what's happening?"

"I do," he said without a sign of shame. "Do you think you may really want to become a real girl Trent?" "The idea has a certain thrilling appeal to me lately Jay. I've got ovaries for heaven's sake and they are making girl hormones and eggs. Have you seen a doctor about those things on YOUR chest yet?" "No, I'm still trying to hide them from my folks. You know I've always been a little mild mannered and I don't mean in the Clark Kent style and well, frankly, I'm scared. I think you know I’d love to be a girl and I'm sure that what we are taking for our hair and nails is what pushed you over the edge and I went along for the ride and it's really been fun. I do like the way I look but I haven't dared to wear any gowns or anything like your Mom lets you even though I do have a nightshirt now. I'd love to though.

That's why I chose that very pretty apron. I guess maybe I really want to be a girl too but you have an excuse. I don't think I do except in my head." "Well, Jay, if you can't make the head fit the body, make the body fit the head. I confess I have never minded your girlishness so go for it." Poor Jay. He couldn't wait to catch up to me and sort of blew his cover one night, confessing to his mom that he wanted to be a girl. Of course she had seen what was happening to me too and also her son. Moms don’t miss much. She didn't know about the Ultra Fem-Gel though.

Jay ended up first at the doctor's and then going to a shrink which did absolutely no good at all except to make the psychiatrist richer. He finally called Mrs. Geary in along with Jay and told her he saw no hope of a cure and that she should just let him be himself, or herself as the case may be. She took it rather fatalistically and let him prescribe real girl hormones for Jay with her signature and approval and he was in seventh heaven. He would catch up with me after all.

THEN he got his nighties and some other pretties he could wear at home or to my place. Mrs. Geary called my Mom and they had a long, long talk about us. When Dad came home again, we all sat down and Mom dropped the bomb as I sat before him dressed from head to toe in girlish casual clothes right down to my skimmer flats.

I was replete with bra, blouse, slender skirt and pony tail high on my crown tied with a scrunchie. Well, Dad took it a lot better than I thought he would, very calmly actually. He did quiz me thoroughly asking, among other questions, if I really wanted to be a girl. "Dad, I don't know if WANT is exactly the word I'd use but I do like what's been happening and how I feel when I'm wearing my pretty things. The worst part of it is...I’m so ashamed." "Of what?" "How I’ve been looking at boys lately. It isn’t all about the clothes. I think it is serious and I know I'm just a kid but I'm almost 14 and I'm becoming very comfortable with the idea of femininity, especially finding out I really have girl parts inside me."

"Alright Trent, if that's what you and your mother want, go for it. Heaven knows I haven't been around to give you a male role model and since you are really part girl anyway I suppose we had better start thinking of a new name for our daughter." "Oh, thank you Daddy" I exclaimed and jumped up and kissed him. I hadn't kissed him since I was five and it felt just fine and left a small, light pink imprint on his cheek. Yes, I was wearing a little lipstick too. After a very brief stay in outpatient surgery, I was no longer technically a boy. What makes boys grow beards were gone forever. Now Jay and I were in a real contest to see who could be the prettier girl, a real honest to goodness girl and Jay's parents, several months after my little snipping, allowed Jay to do the same.

The doctor gave me hormones too only he gave me shots that lasted all month telling us that soon my ovaries would be producing plenty of estrogen for a normal puberty, a little late but normal. He was right and Jay, now Jeanine and I, now Tina as Mom had suggested, were in a silly contest to out 'girl' each other. I think I had her outgunned though as I had both Diane and Mom as tutors and fashion consultants. It didn't take us long to develop a basic wardrobe of teen fashions and I begin to look differently at boys, very differently and they at me! The sniggers and snotty remarks were gone, replaced with furtive glances. As nasty as kids can be, they adapt more quickly than adults.

My folks wouldn't let me near a pair of spike heels until I was 16 but pumps with 2 ½" illusion heels look nice too especially with the prettier things I wear to church. Now WE were the prey and they the hunters. After the initial shock of both of the school's major pansies showing up with bras, makeup and in skirts, the novelty wore off. Oh yes, we did still get the occasional stare or half whispered remark but we didn't care. We were getting what we wanted and to heck with them. In a couple years we'd be out of there and had our lives to live. Most of the girls in class were very accepting and we made friends with several, real friends. By the end of 9^th grade, we were both indistinguishable from any of the other girls in manners or appearance.

Our coaches and girlfriends did a real conversion on us. We played field hockey and jumped rope and became more limber as we did girl's gymnastics. We went to pajama parties and dances. I was finally glad I had made the decision to let go of Trent. My folks promised me a great graduation present when I was a senior. Three guesses! Jeanine and I found out just how high maintenance being a girl can be with hair care and salon appointments, nails, shaving legs, makeup, exercises and dieting to stay slim and sexy. It all took time but time well spent, I'd say.

We were looking forward to high school and our sophomore year in a new school, a large school that fed off of three junior high schools. That meant a better assortment of boys. They did a soft tissue x-ray or something on me and found that my ovaries weren't all that was there. I was developing a typical feminine tummy and the reason was the extra room a girl's reproductive system takes up. I was a true hermaphrodite but if I hadn't taken that Fem-Gel, it would have all remained dormant. Isn't that strange? My uterus and cervix and fallopian tubes all were becoming fully developed

Jeanine finally confessed to me that she had always wanted to be a girl as long as she could remember and used to dress up in her sister's stuff whenever she could. It was a shame really. Jeanine wanted to be a Mom so badly and couldn't and I never knew I could be and could. Life takes a lot of twist and turns. After that exam, my folks didn't make me wait until graduation to be set straight. It only took a few hours and I became totally authentic over the summer before I became a sophomore. The doctor said I'd begin menstruating in about three or four months after I had healed. Of course then I got all the standard 'be a good girl' stuff from Mom. She really didn't have to worry.

I had intended to be good anyway although Tommy Swinton had been coming on to me lately and he was really cute. The news spread rather quickly, thanks to Diane, that I really WAS a girl and that the boy stuff was a birth defect. The contest between Jeanine and I ended when she also got some masculine attention. I was happy for her. She wanted it so badly and I just had it handed to me.

 

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