Hidden Hollow                       by: Ilean Ann Jerque

 

Life on the road was rough but it was still preferable to prison school. Eddie Jevers felt he had made the right decision by escaping when the opportunity arose. There were times like now, walking in this heavy mist, on a dark night, on a road that he had never seen before in his life, with the temperature in the thirties, and the only clothes he had were cotton and wet, when the environment sought to teach him a lesson much harder than the prison school could have taught him, that he might have been wrong. He plodded along, straining to see through the drifting droplets, freezing, wanting for shelter.

Eddie had been loose from the law for six months. Had he stayed imprisoned at the "School for Juvinile Offenders," there would have been three years left on his sentence. He wouldn't have been able to leave that damned yard and all those depressing, stupid hoodlums for three more years. It was just too much punishment for his crime! After all, it was self-defense.

He had been protecting the other foster children and himself when he sat fire to that hell-forged monster in human flesh, Kingsman. He would have liked to run him through with a knife or maybe blow his head off, but anything that could be used as a weapon was too well controlled in his "home." After the bastard raped that new little Amond kid, Eddie knew that something must be done. He confronted him, but Kingsman only laughed and challenged Eddie to go to the authorities with his "fantasy." The drunk never thought that his moonshine could kill him. Eddie watched Kingsman's laughter turn to anger after dousing him with a bucket of the booze and then watched his anger turn to pain when the flaming match sent the Satin-spawned devil back to hell. The deed was almost fun, but it was necessary.

The mist was becoming drizzle and a wind was brewing. Eddie couldn't see well as he rounded a corner and nearly bumped into a deputy sheriff's car. The cop was carefully watching his radar's scale, trying to get in a few more tickets before dawn exposed his cloaked position. "Fool should be in a coffee shop rather than giving himself and others trouble on a night like this," Eddie muttered to himself as he quietly backed away. He bumped into a rail guarding a steep slope next to the car. The trooper must have caught sight of movement in his rear view mirror. He turned toward the rear. Eddie saw this rotation and flew over the railing to avoid capture.

Rolling down a slope, he splashed into the stream below. Rapid waters pulled him into the center of their fury. Like a ghost, the bottom eluded his feet as the strength of rush kept a foothold from him. Instead, he was bashed and banged along the rocky, pitted undersurface for more than a mile before he weakly caught a fallen tree's branch and desperately pulled himself from the torrent. He hurt. Blood oozed from his shredded jeans. The skin of his feet and hands, swollen from the beating and cold, cracked and bled. Coughing water, gasping for air, he barely managed to beach himself. Exhausted and damaged, he lay exposed, feet sloshing in the surging stream, praying for the water to not rise.

The sky drifted brighter but the sun never appeared. Shadows became trees and bushes. Eddie's feet were being firmly pulled by the snow melt now and he knew if he didn't move, he would die downstream. Life-threatened effort allowed him to grasp another branch with a red-streaked, blue hand and pull. Cold sank to his bones. He couldn't feel if he was moving or not. In his mind he believed that if he could just touch his nose to his hand, he would live. Fighting, closer, closer, he could see his gray nails and the cold-cracked skin around them. With his nose to his thumb, he stretched for another branch and the ordeal began again.

An hour had passed. Grasping the up-turned roots brought hope glistening to his eyes. There, not ten yards away, stood an old hotel. Glowing windows certified the rooms. A stooped-over old woman shuffled across the covered porch cupping a steaming hand full of warmth. To stand and walk was impossible. He began to yell. There were no words, just painful, crisis-created noises. Time passed quickly. His strength ebbed. Breaths became longer and deeper between each cry and his din became feeble. Footsteps crashed somewhere near his head as he collapsed into darkness.

 

Consciousness came gradually. He stirred and woke. Movement created waves of pain. No part of his body failed to hurt. His skin was fire. In trying scratch his cheek, the wad of bandages that replaced his hands simply grated on the bandages protecting his face. Pain and fear reached into his mind and he screamed. Several blasts invaded the old hotel hallways. Two strangers, an older woman dressed conservatively and a younger one in a housekeeper's uniform, rushed into the room. The elder quickly, gently placed her hand across his mouth. She spoke commandingly into his ear, "Quiet Eddie or you will be found."

These words rang alarm through his pain and his cries ceased immediately. She spoke, "Your picture was in the paper yesterday morning. Deputy Carver has a quick eye for faces and recognized your's in a car's lights when you were standing behind his car." Eddie nodded that he understood. She lifted her hand and spoke again, "I'm Lilly Grant and this is my daughter, Cissy. You're safe here with us but you can't make any noise. There are guests in the hotel always." Eddie tried to ask a question but Lilly answered it first, "You nearly died. You have many wounds and frostbite has damaged much of your skin but you'll live. Right now, you rest, and Cissy will bring some soup up."

"Why are you helping me?" Eddie questioned through the pain in his jaw.

She smiled a little, hard smile, "I have reasons that I'll explain later. Right now, we'll get something for your pain. You rest." They left. Ten minutes passed. Cissy returned carrying three different pills, a glass of milk, and a bowl of chicken soup. She sat on the bed and spoon fed him.

His jaw was barely able to crush the noodles and chicken pieces. He ate through the pain to cease the emptyness in his stomach. Curiosity held many questions for him, but the first was basic,"Exactly where am I?"

She poked a spoon full of warm broth into his mouth as she explained, "Hidden Holler." Cissy's diction was thick with hill drawl yet her voice was mellow and sweet, "Ain't nothin' but a speck on the Tennessee map. Lot'a people head through here. They come fer tha mineral baths and the spa. Lot of'em say tha woater here keeps 'um young. Some'em buy et by tha barral an' ship it ta Calafornya an' Florrida an' such. There's a botlin plant near the Holiday. They ship trucks an' trucks o'it outta there. Brings a pertty penny in'ta the town."

"So how true is it?" After he asked this, he realized his question didn't relate to what she last said.

He started to make it clearer but she answered correctly, "Guess it’s true to some extent. Grandma's ninety-six an' Momma's forty-nine. I just turned nineteen last month."

That he couldn't believe. She appeared to be fifteen, sixteen on the outside. Pretty, slender, petite, braces on her teeth, Eddie had plans on romancing her once he was able. Now, this would be a problem, since he was shy of sixteen. Lilly also didn't appear any older than forty. But, judging from her hint of northern accent, she hadn't lived here all her life.

Eddie hoped there could still be a chance, "Are you still in high school?"

"Naw. I graduated two years 'go. My fiancee an' I go ta tha college extension over 'n Bradley two nights a'week. He's taken' a management class an' I'm takin' accountin' this semester. We're gonna ta buy tha car dealership there in Bradley whar he works. We've saved thirty-one thousan'an seven hunderd towards'et so far. Old man Fisher want's sixty thousan' fer the place. Course that ain't full price, but we gotta save up fifty and then Momma's gonna give us ten gran when we get married, an' then thar'd be a bank note. We already talked ta tha bank an' we'ar gonna make a family business outa' it 'cause there ain't'nough income from tha place yet ta hire a lotta' people ta work there. But we'll do alright together thar." She shoved the last spoon full into Eddie's mouth and held the glass so he could finish the milk. Placing everything on the tray she turned to him before she left, "By tha way, you're here 'cause Doc Turner likes Momma 'lot. You been 'sleep for nearly three days. You gotta' catheter sows you won't hav'ta get up to pee, but if ya gotta' do the other, just wait! We got a bedpan an' Momma or me'll be heare once an' hour till you can get on your feet. Please don't make us hav'ta clean-up afta' ya if ya ken help it." She smiled and shut the door.

That evening Doc Turner came by, as he would every evening for nearly the next month, to tend to his secluded patient. When the bandages were removed, Eddie could see large strawberry wounds on his arms, knees, and legs, but what frightened him was his purple and black skin. During the next few days, as Doc removed the bandages, large patches of skin would come loose, embedded in the gauze. Fingernails ripped off and his fingers grew thin from skin loss. His feet suffered the same fate. Doc would change bandages every day, spray him all over with antibiotics, and give him a shot of penicillin in one cheek and of "stuff" in the other every three days. Yet, through all the effort, the skin peeled away every day.

Over the next few weeks Eddie's world was his room. It wasn't big, built as such to keep it well hidden. As Cissy explained, the motel had been a stop-over for slaves and this room had been designed to conceal them. The entire top floor had been built around an optical illusion and the entrance was through the hallway linen closet. From the single window, and as he was able to move about on his own, Eddie would spend hours looking-out over thick Tennessee woods, watching birds hunt, flying unfettered, and scrutinizing people traipsing the deep path to the mineral baths behind the hotel. He wanted to be with them, he wanted to be able to go and come as the birds, but mostly he didn't want to ever be locked-in behind those chain link fences of the prison school, those fences that allowed a view of freedom, allowed him the smells and sounds of freedom, but refused him freedom's sweet embrace.

The forth week a visitor appeared in the room. Mary Beth Helms, the cook's daughter, a clever and darling sixteen year old girl. Having seen the piles of rotting bandages, having watched the parade to the top of the hotel, she had figured-out everything except who was in the hidden room. Now that also was known. However, this wasn't a problem. Mary, new to the town, wasn't taking well to her class mates. Their meeting had given her someone her own age in the house and captive Eddie was glad to have the company. Lilly and Cissy's maintenance visits didn't contain much socializing.

Becoming friends quickly, they spent afternoons discussing things they liked, things they hated, and things they feared, like Eddie's fear of being caught and sent back to the torture of transparent prison walls. There was, however, little to prevent that from happening. As he became able to leave his room, surely he would be discovered. Sheriff Tisdale and Deputy Carver had searched the hotel twice. Only the concealed room and his friend's denials of his presence had saved him. If he was ever able to leave without danger, it would only be by carrying his concealment with him--a disguise. They talked of this. Mary looked at him, his hair that hadn't been cut in so long, his frame that had dwindled to almost nothing from the damage done by the cold, and she came upon the idea that he could pass as a girl. After all, he was much the same size as she and she did have clothes he could wear. With some coaching, it could be done.

Eddie was hesitant at first. It was a stupid idea but it played again and again in his mind. If it were possible, if it could be done, he could walk down the street right under the noses of every Deputy Carver in America, in the world, and none would know. There would be great sacrifices. To start would mean that for the next few years he would have to live as a girl. But then, on his eighteenth birthday, he could throw away the disguise and go on with his life--in freedom.

The plan was presented to Lilly and Doc and both agreed to help. Doc provided medications that would create feminine appearances in the boy and Lilly provided work at the hotel, once he was able. Further, she would claim he was her niece, sent to live here because of family problems at home.

The plan was put into motion. Mary began teaching him to walk and to talk as a girl. When time allowed, she taught him about make-up and clothes, their colors, applications, appropriateness and such. Three months passed. Eddie was well enough to leave the hotel and practiced enough to make his debut as a girl. Tomorrow, the day before his sixteenth birthday, would be his first outing.

"Are you ready?" Mary asked as she entered his room.

Eddie stood with a towel around his waist, glistening drops refracting the morning sunbeams rested upon his white skin, "I'm not sure. I guess I'm getting scared."

"You'll do fine, Eddie. You've been practicing. You sound like a girl. You look like a girl. You even move mostly like a girl. No one will know. Nobody will suspect that you are that escaped boy," Mary reassured him.

"It's not that. Well, it's that also, but the other stuff you said, about me sounding and looking and moving like a girl, that scares me. Like, its all coming too naturally to me. I think it's those shots that Doc Turner is giving me. The day after he gives me one, I'm like I'm all soft inside. And look at my skin! I'm so white and soft and smooth feeling. I never felt like this. I had tough skin, you know, rugged. I never was bothered by little bumps or scrapes but now I lean against a wall and the bumps in the paint bother me. When I first started trying to sound like a girl, it was hard to keep my voice high. Now it seems higher than yours and I can't lower it. My hands were strong but lately I have to make sure that I have a solid grip on things. My fingers seem to want to move away on their own when I touch things. Like when I reach for something, I touch it with the middle of my hand first and then my fingers wrap around it, instead of just grabbing it. And my little finger is always sticking out whenever I do hold something. I just feel so, I guess, feminine."

Mary shook her head a little, "Maybe the shots do make you feel strange. Doc said that they would help you appear more like a girl. But you've been practicing to behave like a girl for months now. Probably you're just becoming more aware of how skillful you've become. And that's the way you need to be: natural. If you're all fake and self-conscious than people will figure you out. Femininity must become part of you if you're not to be discovered."

"Yeah, I guess so," Eddie reluctantly agreed. "There are other things. Look at my nipples. Do they look like they're getting bigger to you?" Mary shook her head "no." Eddie continued, "They look bigger to me, and they have a knot under them that gets sore if I rub them, but when I do, my nipples get all sensitive and stiff."

"Let me see," Mary said as she softly began massaging his nipples with her fingers. "Does this hurt?" she asked after a couple of minutes.

He was quiet for a moment, evaluating the new sensations. "Well, no. It feels kinda good," Eddie admitted as he began to squirm. "There's another thing, my dick and balls seem to be shrinking."

"Oh, no!" Mary exclaimed softly while pulling the towel from his waist. "They look just fine to me." She ran a finger down the length of his dick. It responded. "I wonder what would happen if I began to do this?" She gently gripped his hardening rod and, pulling him toward her with a hand around his back, she took his right nipple in her mouth and began a firm suction while rolling her tongue around the darkening, hardening nipple. Eddie's head dropped back a little and he began to weaken. She shoved him toward the bed. He fell back in ecstasy. Laying next to him, she sucked and tongued his hard nipples until he wiggled and danced to each lapping. Her hand was busy also. Keeping a light grip on his shaft, her finger snaked between his balls and began applying firm pressure on his scrotum while rubbing up and down ever so slightly.

Eddie involuntarily began to push against her finger. His back arched more and more as she nursed on his nipples. She sucked harder, opening her mouth to get as much of his new breast in as she could. She pushed more with her finger, more and more. Then, with two fingers, she pushed in and out and up and down. Eddie's breathing grew deeper and more erratic. Reflexively, his back arched. His knees raised and his hands gripped the blanket soundly. His chest rose to the top most extent of his nipples, and, pushing down hard against Mary's fingers from inside his scrotum, he blasted cum onto her hand and wrist and up to his raised belly button. Holding this position for a minute, taking no breaths, his entire body convulsing with each pump of his organ, his nipples pushed upward as if they could touch the ceiling.

Slowly spasmodic breaths began, his body shook, and his arched back began to falter. Relaxing until he lay spent and still, it was several minutes before his breathing became rhythmic. Rolling his tongue around his mouth, he spoke with a deep, almost hoarse voice, "My God! That was...that was, fantastic!"

"See," Mary giggled, "you can speak with a deep voice. You just need the proper motivation." They laughed.

Lingering on the bed, they whispered about what had happened. Sex had never entered into their conversations or actions before and this had been a surprise, an unplanned action on Mary's part also. Time passed until Mary insisted that Eddie hurry and dress, his appointment at Miss Hazel's beauty parlor was near.

Practice had brought him basic skills. He stepped into pink panties and fastened a pink bra around his waist. Pulling it into place and slipping the straps over his shoulders, he stuffed a knee-hi partially filled with rice into each cup and molded them to resemble breasts. Next came pink tights. Above these a pink muscle shirt, and over that a big, fluffy, cut-away, white sweat shirt hung off his left shoulder. A short, flouncy, white petticoat served as a skirt. Lace topped white socks and pink sneakers finished the ensemble.

Eddie stood before the mirror in the cramped bathroom, "What if I don't pull this off? Suppose Miss Hazel figures out that I'm not a girl?"

She turned to reposition herself in the small bathroom but kept eye contact with him. "Quit worrying. You'll do fine. Miss Hazel will be so busy telling you, a newcomer, all about Hidden Hollow that she won't have time to figure it out. By the way, listen to what she says. She knows everything that goes on around here and, from her stories, you'll know who to avoid," Mary said as she squeezed behind Eddie to sit on the toilet lid.

Eddie’s face dropped and his knuckles rested on the sink edge. Finally he looked at his reflection. "Thinking about doing this for the next few years, it's scary --taking on the life of a girl," Eddie thought out loud while tracing a finger over an eyebrow that had been plucked into a neat arch last evening.

Mary swatted his bottom, "You can philosophize some other time. Right now, get your face on before we're late."

Eddie lightly rubbed some moisturizer into his face and followed with a coat of powder. Shaving wasn't necessary, his peach fuzz hadn't yet become whiskers, and lately that peach fuzz seemed to be lighter. He darkened his brows, defining their shape with a pencil. A line of pink shadow was applied above his lashes and carried out to the sides. The space above that was filled with a soft peach. Painting around his eyes a thick black line, the "teen" style of the area, he completed his art work with a generous accumulation of mascara.

Administering a rosy-peach blush and brick red lipstick, he turned to Mary for approval. She generously offered it by stepping to him and grabbing both rear cheeks. With her face in his, she purred, "If I had a mind to mess-up your lipstick, I'd tear you up right now, you gorgeous chick."

"Lesbian" flashed through Eddie's mind but he dismissed it. After all, hadn't she just given him the best sex he ever had, even if it was the first sex he ever had? She was totally the aggressor yet wanted to remain a virgin. But those things were beside the point. She was hot for him and that was all that was important.

After turning his hair a few times about a curling iron that had been roasting air during their sexual fling, the pair left for Eddie's appointment. It was his first occasion to see the rest of the hotel, the lobby, the front door, or even the town of Hidden Hollow. Outside for the first time in three months, he breathed in fresh spring air, scents of lilac and jasmine, and the pristine view of the town as it sat crouched at the foot of a small, tree encrusted mountain. There weren't many houses visible, the population was only six hundred full time residents. Main street consisted of several mall strips of three or four shops each, curving easily out of sight into a green slope. Hidden Spa Hotel, Lilly's hotel, sat at one end of Main street and had the mineral springs. The old Holiday Inn resided on the other end and had the stables. These two hotels, the bottling plant, and Woolworth's comprised the major businesses of the town. Miss Hazel's shop was near the center of town, on the slope side, next to the True Value.

While walking up the gradual grade, Mary brought up a matter of unfinished business. "Eddie, you told me last night that you were going to decide on a girl's name this morning. I can't call you `Eddie,' that will tip-off everyone. How about Edie?"

He paused, "I don't know. Picking a girl's name makes all this seem so final, like I'd be spending the rest of my life as a girl." He caught her stubborn look from the corner of his eye, "I know! I'll think of something. Edie is too close to Eddie. There was this girl, the first one I ever had a crush on. I remember her name, `Falana.' I always thought that was so neat. Maybe I'll take her name...and my Grandmother's, `Christine.' Falana Christine Jevers. That sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

"Sounds like getting caught," Mary countered. Eddie looked at her in surprise. "You can't use `Jevers.' You'll be giving yourself away."

"Oh, yeah,"Eddie agreed, "OK. How about Smith?" Mary gave him a stupid looking smirk. He thought a moment, "Falana Christine Amond -- a friend of mine," explaining with a definitive tilt of his head and raise of his brow. Mary nodded in agreement as they turned into Miss Hazel's.

Miss Hazel's sat in a strip building that appeared to be a spruced-up remainder from the days of western advancement. Once inside, that picture was positively different. Scents of acid perms and flowers stood heavy in the air. The parlor was done in shades of green and white with pink trim splashed here and there. Ceiling to floor mirrors separated each seat in the waiting area. An archway and front desk separated the waiting area from the parlor proper. A pretty young girl with a glorious mane sat at the desk and smiled as they approached, "Good mornin'. I'm Sally. Can I healp ya?" her harsh mountain voice didn't match her classic features.

Mary pushed ahead to speak first, "I'm Mary Beth and this is Falana, Ms. Grant's niece from The Spa. We've got an appointment."

Sally checked the schedule, "Certainly. You'll're jest on time. Miss Hazel's gonna take care'o you herself. Wait heare for jest a sec." Sally disappeared behind the arch, reappearing again following a short, overweight woman with a beaming smile and a tinkling excess of cheap jewelry. This was Miss Hazel.

"So you're Lilly's niece. Well, you'all come in here an' you sit in this chair sweetheart. Mary Beth, you sit in that chair next'a her, unless you want somethin' done. I'll busy myself with giving this young lady the works like Lilly said I should." Miss Hazel's accent was more southern than hill country and her dialogue was non-stop if she was within ear shot of anyone. Eddie/Falana moved toward the chair with some trepidation. This expanded into fear as Miss Hazel slung a towel around his neck before he could plant his rear firmly in the seat. Miss Hazel's commentary continued as she yanked the rings from her fingers with swift motions, shoved her hands into a large container of green gook, and began spreading the sweet smelling, slick gel onto Falana's face, "...but she's like that you know. Some people just don't learn the first time. This is only a cleanser sweetheart. Gotta get that paint-off ya before the mud pack. Say, have you met my sister Edith Gordon yet? She's the principal over..."

When the gel was wiped away, Falana was treated to a generous face-full of some fruity smelling mud, covered by a warm towel. Miss Hazel was still talking and Falana managed to relax. Remembering what Mary had said, he followed the current history of most everybody concerned with Hidden Hollow.

After the mud, a sharp smelling liquid that made Falana nauseous "toned the skin." Sally began work on Falana's rippled fingernails. Never having seen such damage, she naturally wondered what had happened. Mary was quick to jump in with the excuse that Falana had been mistreated by her step-father, explaining, "Her fingers were frostbitten when she was forced to shovel snow without gloves on." Falana gave Mary a wide-eyed stare. Sally was horrified but proceeded with her skill of applying sculptured nails.

Having finished Falana's face with a moisturizer, Miss Hazel brushed through his hair a few times and pronounced, "I know just what to do with you. I'm gonna make your red hair shine, but you're gonna need a perm to put some body inta it. You relax girl. I'm gonna do you right." She dug in the cabinet and began rolling Falana's hair in plastic rollers about an half-an-inch across. "You need body but curl, too. This should be just right." Soon the last curler was in place and a foul-smelling elixir was squirted onto his head until every hair was soaked and his scalp was ablaze with pain. He sat suffering through the odorous ordeal and literally thanked Miss Hazel as she tipped him back to wash the poison from his head. She then doused him with a flowery smelling rinse that sat awhile before it was rinsed out. This was followed by a red tented, "henna" rinse. Finally, as Miss Hazel began to cut his hair. Falana felt relieved, believing his torture was almost over. Miss Hazel trimmed and talked and rolled hair and talked and plopped him under a dryer. Falana thumbed through the pages of Lady's Home Journal, trying to not be conspicuous about the difficulty he was having with the new, long nails.

After a through baking, he was removed to Miss Hazel's station where she applied fresh make-up to his face. She stopped for a moment to pluck a few overlooked hairs from his eyebrows and then continued extolling the virtues of the new line of cosmetics that she was skillfully applying to his now tender face. Combing out his hair took some time and the inhaling of generous doses of hair spray left him disoriented. Before he realized what was happening, Miss Hazel shot two pierced studs into his right ear. He started to protest but Mary silenced him with a stern face and a finger to her lips. Matching studs, a heart in the lobe and a star above and to the outside of that, were set home in his left ear.

Falana was handed some literature on the proper care of pierced ears and his hair was teased and sprayed a tad more before he was allowed to see the finished product. The chair rotated toward the mirror and Eddie viewed Falana for the first time. Where he had looked like any girl before, Falana now shone with the fresh, youthful beauty of a young lady. His face was smooth and delicately painted and his nails were long, pink, and well shaped. Most noticeably, his hair exuded the feminine mystique. Before it had been long, uneven, of a straw texture and brash red color. Now it glowed with a warm, rich, deep rust softness that fluffed out from his head and bowed in thick curls that scampered around his jaw with the slightest movement of his head. Spellbound, he lingered in the mirror until finally flicking at a stray curl that infringed on his sight, curling across his left eye to the tip of his demure brow.

"Here, I've got the perfect fix for that," Miss Hazel offered. Springing to the desk and retrieving a pink lace hair clip, she pulled back one side of his hair, securing it near the back with the clip and leaving his bangs coquettishly in place. Falana began to faint a little with the acceptance that he was this attractive girl.

Miss Hazel fished for a complement, "So what's you think?"

Falana knew that he needed to respond favorably, after all, he was pretty. He smiled and looked at the short artist. "Wonderful. I've never looked this pretty before," he choked out with all honesty.

Miss Hazel smiled in gratitude and escorted the girls to the waiting room. "I'll charge the work to Lilly's account. You girls have fun now," Miss Hazel waved "good-bye" and waddled toward her office.

Falana stood enchanted before one of the long mirrors in the waiting room, gently touching his soft hair and absorbing the view. Mary stood near him, waiting patiently as he acclimated to his appearance. "Good God. How can I look like this? Is this really me?"

Mary acknowledged his amazement, "Is a little scary, isn't it?" Falana nodded. Mary continued, "There should be a time in every girl's life when she realizes that she is attractive. It must feel odd reaching that point after being a boy."

Falana nodded slowly and then took shock to what she said, "After being a boy? What do you mean?!"

"Quiet!" Mary demanded in a firm whisper. "For now, you must forget that you are male. In time you can return to being what you were. Now you are an attractive girl. You must be, and behave as, that pretty young woman you see in the mirror. That's what everyone, including boys, will be treating you as."

"I didn't think about boys treating me like a girl! God, what'll I do if a guy asks me out?" Falana asked in fear.

Mary giggled, "Well, if he's cute, go out with him. Guys always pay and you reap the benefits. If he's not your cup of tea, tell him you're on the rag and don't feel up to it."

Falana was surprised at Mary's remark, "Yeah. Sure."

"OK. So tell him point blank that you would rather date a girl. That will really get your reputation moving," Mary offered. Falana shuttered. "Remember, there is one girl here that still digs what's down there," she made a little grab for his crotch while moving him toward the door. They laughed and went outside. "Lunchtime. How about a burger. We've got an A&W right over there," pointing to the sign with her finger, "or a McD's on the other side of the Holiday Inn."

"Are you nuts? I can't go anywhere looking like this!" he protested.

Mary sighed, "Falana, pretty girls go anywhere they want. There is still so much for you to learn about being a girl."

"Good morning girls." They turned to see Deputy Carver walking past them into the hardware store next to Miss Hazel's. He stopped and turned to Falana, "Say, are you Ms. Grant's niece?."

"Yes. Falana. Falana Christine Aman," he held out his hand to the deputy.

"Whell, glad ta meet ya, young lady. Hope ya like our little town. You'all have a good day now." He touched the edge of his hat in a tipping fashion and headed for the door.

"Cool!" Mary was astonished. "I would have fainted. I nearly did!"

"After you've been on the run for awhile you get to where you can lie while keeping a straight face. But right now I've got to pee real bad. Let's go for the A&W," Falana said as he began walking. Mary had to run to catch-up. Falana was, however, stopped short at the restaurant door. The place was crowded with teenagers.

"It's Saturday," Mary whispered over his shoulder, "No school today. Go on, you'll do fine."

Falana steeled himself and straight-lined for the rest room. There were several girls inside, chatting, applying make-up, and/or standing in line for an empty stall. Falana and Mary joined the line. A couple of girls said "Hi" to Mary, she said "Hi" back, and introduced Falana to each of them. Finally able to enter a stall, Falana pulled down his panties and started to go standing-up.

Mary knocked on the door. It was enough to remind him where he was. He turned and sat on the seat. "Relief," he moaned to himself and sat for a moment after finishing. Tearing a small strip from the roll, he dabbed at himself in the manner described by his mentor. Pushing his maleness well down between his legs, he redressed and joined Mary. After washing their hands, they headed for the cash register to order.

Waiting in line, Falana became aware that he was receiving evaluative looks from some of the girls but lustful stares from the boys, who would then turn to each other and nod with big, sinful grins. Mary was receiving her share of eyeball time, also. Dressed similarly to Falana, only in gray and purple, she acknowledged the groping eyes with flirting smiles. Catching sight of Falana's questioning of her behavior, she set the record straight, "Have fun! They are. You're a pretty girl and guys will flirt with you. They will look at you. They will want your body! Enjoy it! Learn to use your looks. You want a free lunch? Go sit next to that blonde guy sitting across from those two nerds. He's not bad looking and he's got the hots for you. Put your hip against his and take a hold of his bicep and tell him you left your money at home and you're hungry. Then offer to sit with him while you eat but make it sound like you just offered to eat him and he'll buy. I guarantee it."

"I don't think I'm up to that. I'll blow it."

Mary elbowed his arm, "Don't be silly, girl. You've got what it takes." She waited for a moment and then tried some serious prodding, "You try your luck on him and I'll get the two nerds to buy me lunch. Deal?" Falana tried to pass-off the challenge with a wave but Mary had an answer for that: "Chicken."

Falana protested, "Hey girl, you know about me. I can't do something like that to a guy. It breaks a code or something. It makes me out to be gay."

Mary taunted, "You're a pretty girl, remember? A pretty big chicken girl. Cluck, cluck, cluck, chicken."

"Get off it Mar..."

"Chicken, chicken, yellow-streaked chicken!" Falana weakened and Mary struck again, "be a girl, not a chicken."

Falana lowered his eyes in defeat, "You get me out of this if I start messing it up." Mary nodded in agreement while taking his arm, turning him toward the boy, and shoving him slightly ahead of her.

Falana sauntered to the wide-eyed boy and sat next to him, rubbing hips as instructed. Mary, true to her word, was pulling one of the nerds from his seat by the ear, moving him so that she could sit between them. Falana preformed well, cooing the sad story into the frightened boy's face, and, to his amazement, the boy acted positively, obviously agreeing to the scam but not without question, "You're just using me, right?"

Falana looked at Mary for an answer but there was none. She was busy scamming her own lunch. He turned to the boy, "You're not stupid, are you." The boy gave him a depressed look. Falana felt sorry for the guy. Then in total surprise to himself, he kissed the boy lightly on the lips. "That would taste better with ketchup on my lips."

Huffing heavily, he pushed Falana out of the way in his hurry to place the order. Mary caught Falana's eye, flashed a big, wide-eyed smile, then rested her chin on her fingers, unable to remove the grin that resided there. The boys had eaten before the girls had arrived and now sat in delight as their allowance was digested by the "babes." When they left the booth, Falana stopped, held the blonde boy in place, kissed him firmly on the lips. The crowd "ooohhh-ed" at the exhibition and the boy sat, or rather, fell back into his seat as Falana gracefully sashayed outside.

Mary gave the two nerds a peck on the lips and ran to catch Falana. Getting into step, she giggled as she spoke, "You tramp! You golddiger! How did you learn to do that? I couldn't lay-out a guy like that until I had been at it a couple of years."

Falana reminisced, "I was eleven and had a twenty dollar bill, a birthday present from an aunt. A girl from the dance school across from my favorite burger place told me she forgot her money and that if I would loan her enough to eat, she would pay me back the next day. I didn't want to but she was so pretty. Her perfume mingled with her sweat and she smelled so sexy. She breathed heavily in my ear and I bought her lunch. When she left she kissed me on the lips."

"She ever pay you back?"

"Next day. And she kissed me then, too. Sexy and honest, I figure that if I'm going to live as a woman for awhile, I might as well be a good woman," pride loomed in his voice.

Mary agreed, "Indeed you are, woman. Indeed you are."

"I think my behavior spoke well of me, even if I was taking that guy for his next week's lunch money," Falana smiled.

Mary added, "I'd say that. I wonder what all those other people will be saying about you next week?" Falana stopped dead is his tracks, not having given proper consideration to gossip about his actions. Mary just grinned and continued walking.

The balance of the day was comprised of a walking, guided tour of the town. Falana was beginning to believe that the town census was off quite a bit, judging by the number of carloads of teenagers that populated the streets. He was also beginning to believe that Mary was not the wallflower, the lonesome newcomer, that she had portrayed herself as being. As they walked, several carloads of girls and boys waved or shouted a greeting. Becoming apparent also was the fact that Falana's deception was very good. The "Hi babe's" and wolf whistles the two were receiving played in Falana's mind, forcing awareness of his attractiveness and femininity. Roaming through the scattered shops and occasionally trying on a dress or blouse at Mary's insistence, also served to build Falana's confidence in his appearance and acceptance as a girl. By the time they returned to The Spa for supper, Falana had been able to forget, at least for a short time, that he was male.

They entered the lobby, where Cissy worked the front desk. This was the first time Falana had seen her in something other than a housekeeping uniform. The peplum dress she now wore played-up her slim figure well. She called to them as they crossed the room, "Fish and shrimp ta'night, girls. Better grab a seat an' git it while it lasts. An by-tha-way, you'all're so cutesy!" This "cutesy" remark was punctuated by two upheld, out-turned fists separated by a huge grin and wrinkled-up nose.

Sitting near the back of the dining room, the smells of cooking shrimp and fresh bread made their stomachs growl. The waitress, Cherrie, announced as she flew by that she'd bring out their meal after her next order. Mary explained that help gets the daily special unless they pay for something else. Shortly, Lilly joined them and marveled at Eddie's appearance.

Mary corrected her, "Ah, Lilly, let me introduce you to your new niece, Falana Christine Aman."

"I'm so sorry my dear," Lilly said giving Falana's arm a squeeze. "Don't let me make that mistake again. And tell me exactly how you want to spell your name so that I can make up some employment records for you."

They sat together through supper and chatted. After the meal, Mary took Falana to the mineral baths. There were several people in the water, all wearing minimal bathing suits despite the cool evening. "The water is always warm. During the winter, these doors are closed to keep out the wind, but no matter how cold it gets, the water will still be 90 degrees and will warm the room so much you can wear a bikini," Mary explained.

The thought of wearing a bikini was a surprising to Falana. While he had contemplated dresses and make-up, he had never visualized himself in something so skimpy, so sexy as a bikini. In his wildest imaginings, he never had thought of his disguise as being something so outright reveling. "But, I couldn't wear a bikini. I'm a boy!"

Mary countered, "Don't be so dumb." "You've seen how guys react to you. They only see a girl. Even in a bikini, that's all they'll see."

"Well, I think they'll see something else," Falana indicated by glancing between his legs.

Mary looked down, "Oh! I didn't think about that. I wonder if we could do something more to hide it?"

They walked around the grounds until reaching a spot where the stream curved around the back of the property. "Here," Mary stopped and dug into her purse, "Have you ever smoked pot?" Falana shook his head "no" as he stepped away from the exposed joint. Mary lit it, took a long hit, and offered it to Falana. He hesitated but took the smoldering rod and drew in the smoke. Coughing loudly, he bellowed smoke between gasping inhales. Mary laughed, "I did the same thing when I took my first hit. Take smaller hits and breath in more air." He did and soon both were well stoned.

They floated back to the spa. Traversing the pools with altered depth perception was a hazardous experience for the fledgling smoker but there was no hurry and no need to cross the entire spa. Ahead, Mary was leaning down, flirting with two young service men that were spending a few days leave here. Mary introduced them as Rich and Ed. Ed was very interested in Mary and, even in his altered state, Falana could see that Rich had eyes for him.

Falana stood near Mary, his legs spread for balance, his right elbow lifted slightly to compensate for the breeze against his side. This was to prove both a fortunate and a provoking stance. With the upwards view from the pool, Falana's posture was fortunate because the boys saw only his pink tights stretched flat at the crotch. Otherwise, they might have questioned "her" large mound. And, needless to say, this view was quite provoking to two young soldiers.

Due to Mary's enticing and insinuative conversation, it was only a short time before the boys were out of the spa and suggesting that the quartet step outside for a snoot of Mountain Dew. Mary took Ed's arm and Rich offered Falana his. Mary's eyes instructed Falana to secure the extended elbow with a "take it" frown. He did and they exited to some secluded benches in the garden.

They sat and talked and took shots from a half-gallon bottle of moonshine and lemonade. Falana recognized the bite of alcohol from swiped sips of old man Kingsman's bottle but, mixed with lemonade and THC, he couldn't realize how drunk he was getting.

Before long, Rich managed to coax Falana into a conversation away from the other pair. Falana found him funny and interesting, and, in a stoned sort of way, was drawn to him without knowing how close physically that interest had brought them. Rich's arm snaked around Falana’s shoulders and soon their face's were mere inches apart. Falana’s eyes searched for Mary, but she and Ed were busy necking. He turned to face Rich, who touched his cheek, pushed a loose curl from his eye, and softly kissed his lips. Falana's eyes grew wide, his body tensed and he couldn't move to prevent another kiss from happening. Rich kissed again, more firmly, more passionately. Falana reached up to push against Rich's chest, forcing him away. Instead, his hands slid up the soldier's hard chest and over his broad shoulders. Rich pulled their chests together. Falana's arms now rested comfortably, wrapped behind this young man's neck. With his head cloudy from the pot and spinning from the situation, Falana not only couldn't resist the passionate kisses but began returning them. Many long and sensual kisses were shared until soon they lay prone, Rich reclining on Falana.

Some strange burning was building inside Falana, something new that he didn't understand, something that grew as Rich's weight against his budding breasts increased. The bench boards were painful against his back and Falana, without thinking, suggested that they lay on the ground. Rich was glad to oblige, picking "his girl" from the bench, and carrying her to a spot of thick grass.

Crossing the walk, Falana could see and hear Mary and Ed. Mary was explaining that she was a virgin and was saving herself for her husband, but Ed's trunks were gone and Mary was gripping his stiff dick with both hands.

Rich carefully lowered his trophy to the soft grass. Falana caught a view of Mary hunching over Ed's erection, taking the maleness into her mouth. Rich lay next to Falana, his hard dick pressing against his leg. Falana stopped him as he leaned for a kiss, "Rich you need to understand that I can't make love with you. I...I.."

"You want to keep yourself for marriage?" Rich offered. Falana nodded, looking down. Rich understood, "I can respect that. Have you petted with a guy before?" Falana shook her head. Rich sighed, "I kinda thought that. Would you just like to lay here and talk?"

Falana was impressed by the gentleman in this young man and he spoke again without thinking, "I would just like to lay here and kiss." Shocked at the words that came from his own lips, he accepted the result of his remark gracefully, leaning toward Rich.

"Yes," Rich said as he leaned forward, touching their lips together. They kissed tenderly. Rich slowly rolled against Falana, his firm erection pressed into Falana's leg. Falana reached to push the hardness from his leg, but found that Rich's organ had escaped from the restraining trunks. He touched the soft, stretched skin. "Will you hold me?" Rich asked softly into Falana's ear.

Falana couldn't seem to resist what was happening. He marveled at the erection, at how much larger it was than his, and was curious, wanting to touch the maleness but afraid of something undefinable. But now was the time to touch another's manhood, after all, he now had the perfect cover and his curiosity about what a man's dick felt like was understandable considering his situation. Cautiously his fingers slid around the velvet skin, watching transfixed as it responded to the his slightest touch. Gripping gently, his pink nails touching the heel of his hand, he slowly stroked the maleness in fascination. Rich moaned and Falana giggled, somehow astonished that he could produce excitement in another male. Having passed the "test" so far, he remembered Mary's actions and wondered what he could do with his mouth. Quickly dismissing this as an act of homosexuality, he vowed to himself that he would never do such a thing. So he watched his hand as it stimulated Rich, only remotely aware the stroking was stimulating him also. Fighting the compulsion to commit fellatio, he missed the fact that Rich's hand had roamed under his blouse and bra. Somehow oblivious to the rice bags, those roaming fingers had begun drawing real excitement from Falana's hard little nipples.

Rich raised Falana's blouse and took the young breasts into his mouth. Falana couldn't resist the blissful sensation and spread his legs in blind reaction. His hand stroked Rich's impressive staff with more firmness. Spinning with drink, smoke, and passion, Falana desired this man and couldn't understand why.

Becoming scared as Rich's hand slipped under his waistband, Falana sat-up, throwing Rich to the ground beside him. Leaning over Rich, he grabbed the hard rod in his mouth, shoving it into his throat with only a few long strokes, until he had buried his face in pubic hair. Not believing what he had done, he froze, not even choking, with the young, hard dick sunken fully into his throat and his nose separating two bulging balls. The scent of gonadal sweat wafted into his nostrils without even breathing it in. Rich moaned, grabbed Falana's head, and, holding it solidly in place, thrust his hips forward, shooting several hot wads of his best cum into Falana's throat. Falana neither moved nor choked even as the molten sperm pumped into him. Rich's grip soon relaxed. Falana moved his head back and received another shot of hot cum on his tongue. Holding it for a moment, experiencing the strange, new flavor, the saltiness, he swallowed. Pulling back, he watched the pumping prick squeeze out three large drops that oozed down the long, wet shaft. Leaning forward, going with a forbidden desire, he licked the tacky liquid from the shaft and swallowed. Gently running his nail tips down the softening prick, two more large drops appeared. He removed them similarly, letting them sit for a moment on his tongue before swallowing.

They laid back until Rich became soft enough to fit into his tight trunks. Falana performed the favor of licking the last remaining drop from Rich's soft maleness and delicately pushed it back into place. "Thank you."

"I can't believe I did that," Falana spoke his thoughts into the air.

Rich was quick in response, "It was wonderful. No girl has ever done that for me. They usually won't give a guy a blow job because of the salty taste. At least that's what they say. You took me all the way in and let me shoot deep inside you. It was really magnificent. You are the most sensuous, most wonderful woman I've ever met. Thank you." Honesty filled Rich's voice.

Falana turned, eye to eye, honesty to honesty, "You're welcome." Awash in disorganized thoughts, Falana was captured in wondering why he committed this act. Between two men it was homosexuality, but Rich didn't know the secret. So was it a gay affair? He didn't feel gay or queer, he felt like...like a woman. But that couldn't be! Surely he was gay but he didn't feel sinful about what had happened. Rich had thought it wonderful, and Falana reluctantly agreed that it was exciting, different, not a bad thing at all.

They laid together a little longer, talking some, until they were joined by Mary and Ed. Holding each other tightly as they approached, Mary spoke, "We've got to go in, Falana. Better say goodnight and good-bye. They have to leave in the morning."

Falana looked at Rich. "It's true," he said softly.

Saying nothing, Falana rose and began walking with his head down. He felt awful but couldn't explain why. At the back door to the lobby, the couples kissed before entering. Mary said goodnight and headed for her room. Falana walked, his arm around Rich. They took the elevator to the second floor. Ed stepped out, leaving them alone for a few minutes. Rich whispered into Falana's ear, "You were my first. Don't let Ed know. I've got this reputation but it's all a lie. I don't know why I'm telling you, but I want you to know it. I want to write you. I have the address here but I don't know your last name."

"Aman. And Rich, you were my first," Falana looked into his eyes, feeling the need of a supportive kiss. Rich read this and kissed him softly before stepping from the elevator. Falana wondered from the lift when it came to the top floor. He drifted to his bed, his mind trying to comprehend what he had done, had felt, this day. Somewhere sleep came.

 

"Get up sleepy," Mary was tickling Falana's ear with a piece of string. He roused, rubbing last night's eyeliner and mascara into big rings with the back of his hand.

"Happy Birthday, Falana." A chorus of "Happy Birthday" started from Mary, Cissy, Lilly, Doc Turner, and Mary's mother, Carol. They all stood holding presents, except for Carol, who was holding a large cake with white icing, pink and red roses, "Happy Birthday Falana" in pink letters, and sixteen pink candles.

Falana sat-up, "If I had known you all were coming, I'd have baked the cake." They laughed.

Mary hollered, "Make a wish and blow out the candles." Falana thought a moment, inhaled, and blew himself red in the face getting the candles out. "All right," Mary said holding out her gift. "Every girl should get high-heels on her sixteenth birthday. Happy Birthday!"

Falana tore open the package and the scent of leather escaped. There were three pair of heels, a white pair with little bows at the rear, a black patent leather pair, and a pink sideless pair with an ankle strap. "I thought that you should have more than one pair to get you started right," Mary smiled.

"Thank's, Mary."

Cissy's gift was more practical, three of the black housekeeping uniforms, three white, lace collared blouses, black nylons, and black slippers with thick, flexible, soft rubber soles. "Falana" was embroidered above the right pocket on the vest. "Those shoes will be comfortable after tha long 'ours trodin' down these halls. By tha way, ya start in tha mornin'."

"Killjoy," Falana feigned anger.

Lilly held out her gift, "Well, you'll like this." Sliding off the lid, Falana pulled back the tissue paper exposing a beautiful red gown. It was simple satin, with a side slit to the thigh and a v-neck that ended well down into the cleavage. The neckline was enhanced with five rows of red prism bugle beads that flowed up the shoulders and down the long sleeves. The same beading bordered the slit and hemline. There were red satin pumps, also.

"Oh, God!" Falana exclaimed. It didn't take a natural-born woman to appreciate the possibility of one's appearance in such a gown. Falana unfolded the gown and held it to his shoulders, letting it drape in front of him, "I doubt that I'll ever be able to wear it."

"You will," Lilly assured him, "but now I see that it is a little large. You will have to grow into it."

Doc Turner held his box under his nose, tapping his upper lip, "That kinda makes mine pale by comparison."

"It isn't necessary that you out-do anyone," Lilly said, taking the package from him and handing it to Falana. Inside was a pale blue and a bright flowered blouse, a pair of blue jeans, and a white skirt.

"I have something in addition to the cake," Carol added. Her gift was a box of "seven day" panties and a nightshirt with Garfield sleeping in his box, covered with his blanket, and wearing earmuffs and a sleep mask.

Falana was overwhelmed, "Gee, thank you all. It's all so nice. You all are swell, helping me to remain free. Thank you for all you've done. Now, let's eat." Falana sliced the cake and they dug in. Later, the girls, with Falana wearing his jeans and flowered blouse, hopped the bus for Bradley and poked around the stores. Lilly gave Falana an advance against his salary. He spent it on a purse, hot curlers, make-up, some hair accessories, and a thin, feminine watch.

They also took in a movie, "Good-bye Girl," which they agreed was one of most romantic they had ever seen. In addition to watching the flick, Falana was watching boys. It wasn't that he had become boy crazy after his unexpected actions with Rich, but the reactions of the boys to himself, to his feminized state, were a unbelievable. Even though he was aware of his attractiveness as a girl, it was difficult for him to accept that boys were looking at him in that way, that they couldn't see that he was male. In fact, he seemed to be receiving more, or at least longer looks now while he was dressed more simply, with his hair less than yesterday's perfection. Mary explained that this was because he looked more accessible than before. This he could relate to -- he himself had always been more interested in girls that looked casual and flexible than those that looked plastic and breakable. He chose this as another aspect of Falana, a relaxed look, saving the "high polish" for special occasions.

There was to be no chance to use that high polish anytime soon. The following morning Falana began training in housekeeping. Donning his crisp, new uniform, pulling his hair into a bun as Mary had shown him, and carefully applying a small amount of his new make-up, he headed downstairs for training with Cissy.

She began by surprising him with new quarters. He was given a room on the forth floor, on the back corner overlooking the spa and having some view of the town. After moving, his old room became training grounds for his first effort in preparing a room for guests. Lessons included how to make a bed, scrub and sanitize toilets without mussing his hair, vacuum, wash windows, etc. Over the next few months these chores became second nature, and he soon became one of the most trusted of the staff.

Falana's work kept him away from Mary much of the time. As summer began, the hotel filled rapidly and Mary was pressed into service in the kitchen, resulting in even less time for the young lovers to be together. Falana began developing relationships with other staff members. The maids were fun, except for Clara, who was so withdrawn as to be spooky, but a friendship that developed between he and the grounds keeper, Wendell, proved to be fun and vital.

Wendell was an old, black man who had once been an up-and-coming slid-of-hand magician. His career had been cut short by an irate bar owner who, when Wendell had refused to sign a contract, stabbed him through the right hand with a Bowie knife. The blade had severed many ligaments and tendons. Wendell still had a powerful grip but the fine, imperceptible movements of the trickster were gone forever. He received a nice settlement in court, and bought the property and small cabin on the other side of the river from the spa. He had fallen in love with it when he had once preformed at the hotel and swore he would someday buy it.

Wendell kept-up his skills and delighted in teaching them to anyone who was interested. Falana proved to be an adept student, quickly excelling in card and escape tricks. Before Christmas arrived, Falana could pick a pair of FBI handcuffs with nothing more than a hairpin, and shuffle a deck, stacking it to his favor, in a game of poker with five players. Under Wendell's tutelage, he could pick padlocks and pockets, make items disappear from under one's gaze, tie and untie knots with toes, and hold picks or other items in his throat without swallowing them. Wendell said that he had a real knack for this because he could control his gag reflex so well. But then, that was something Falana had already discovered.

As summer drew to a close, Lilly appeared at Falana's door one morning shortly before he was to report to work, "Don't get into your uniform just yet, you've got to register for school."

"For school? What do you mean?"

Lilly grinned, "You don't think that I would allow my niece to go through life as an uneducated housekeeper do you? Here." She handed him four sheets of paper. The first was a letter from a Doctor Silvers of Decatur excusing Falana from anything physical due to a back injury. The second was a letter from "Donald A. Aman" to Lilly asking her to take care of his daughter, Falana. The third was a transcript from Decatur High School, showing Falana Christine's grades through her sophomore year, a grade that Eddie Jevers hadn't finished. Last was a birth certificate for Falana Christine Aman, female, born to Donald A. Aman and Sarah Anne Aman, which in reality was Eddie's mother, except for the last name, born on May 23, 1969, Eddie's birthday, in Springfield, Ill. In fact, it was Eddie's birth certificate with falsifications so good as to be only detectable by using a magnifying glass. Lilly explained, "I've a friend in the records office in Springfield. As you can see, that has a certification embossment. It is Falana's birth certificate."

"Un-real. Did you really change my birth records?"

Lilly shook her head, "No. Your records are the same. This is an altered copy. There is no record of how it came to be. It just exists now and I doubt that there will be any question to its authenticity. You can register in school and get your drivers license as Falana but I couldn't get your social security number changed. That requires a court order. If it becomes necessary, we can get a fake social security card. In the mean time, I think that those will get you into school and keep you out of suspicion." Lilly seemed happy.

Falana dressed simply and hopped a bus for Bradley and the high school. It felt a little weird, registering for classes like home economics and feminine health, but he was adjusting fast to his new role as a female. He walked the halls looking for the classrooms on his schedule, scoping-out the school, and smiling at the other new students doing the same. Satisfied that his first day wouldn't be spent wondering the halls, he headed for downtown, bought a new dress, two pair of slacks, two blouses, and a cute pair of white slippers with walking heels and lace tops. The first few times he had gone shopping had been strange for him but with each excursion into a women's store, with each excursion anywhere, he became more at home in his role.

Oh, yes, there were three other items that he bought, new bras. His breasts were getting bigger. Most of the time he and Mary spent together lately was when she sneaked into his room late at night. They had sex, sort of, Mary always the aggressor, spending hours sucking Falana's nipples, making them ache with pleasure. When she finished, his glands would be swollen for hours, his nipples dark red and extended, and they never seemed to return to the same size they had been before the workout.

In their last two lust-filled adventures, Mary had also introduced a new toy, a double sided dildo. The firm rubber form was shaped like two twelve inch dicks, curving up from a single set of balls. A harness strapped onto the dildo just in front of the balls and then fastened around the waist and thighs of the wearer. Mary had introduced it to him first in the form of getting him to give it a blow job, which he did, not to the best of his ability, but enough to surprise Mary and himself at his greed for the act. The second time, they had been smoking pot. She began sucking his breasts and messaging his scrotum until he was writhing in excitement. With the dildo strapped firmly in place around and inside Mary, she bathed the exposed end of the plaything with KY jelly, mounted herself between his spread thighs, and carefully slid it into his reluctant rear. At first he didn't like the idea but with Mary's effervescent delight of the situation, and feverish sucking of his aching nipples, Falana soon relented and discovered the pleasure of the act. The rod pulling in and out, nearly it's full length with Mary's hyper pumping, encouraged him to overcome the embarrassment of the submissive role and to become involved in a dramatic orgasm. She was pleased with his respiration and perspiration. He desired her but there were two problems: Mary insisted that intercourse would violate her virginity, feeling that the dildo didn't because it wasn't real and didn't shoot sperm, and second, his penis had shrunken to the point that when he could get it up, which occurred less and less often, it was smaller than his thumb, even fully erect. The lack of ability to preform as a male bothered him. After all, he was still male and destined to return to a masculine state in time.

However, there was this gnawing notion that he also liked this feminine role and behavior and sensitivity, and that too weighed on his mind. The twice weekly shots and all those pills that Doc Turner gave him seemed to more and more cause him to feel as if he were a woman. Even dimensions other than his breasts were developing into female proportions: his waist diminishing, his butt rounding and filling, and his hips widening, not just with the redistributing and increasing of fat, but it felt and appeared that his entire pelvis was flattening out, expanding and spreading. When he walked, he exhibited the swaying common in many girls with a wide expanse between their hip joints; his head didn't ride up and down as with a feigned sashay but remained level and erect. When he sat he could feel the weight of his internal organs pressing against his bladder in a way somehow different than before. Small pads of fat had developed around his pubic area, giving the space a flattened appearance, and pressed into the seat under his pelvis when he sat. Along with these obvious changes were the more subtle: his arms were becoming weaker, his shoulders thinner, rounder, and his chest narrower. Moreover, he seemed to choose softer things more instinctively and boys seemed to invade his thoughts where they never had before. He didn't want to see this loss of his masculinity, yet his advancing femininity was becoming overpowering.

As the months passed, Falana found himself drawn further and further into womanhood. The thought of himself as actually being male was forgotten for days at a time. Boys, attracted by his feminine looks and movements, asked him out often. He usually refused, having to work on weekends was a convenient excuse, but now and then he would accept a double date with Mary on Friday nights. This often proved to be a source of discomfort for him because Mary would usually become involved in heavy petting and Falana's date expected the same. These troubles came to be a fortunate bit of schooling, forcing him to learn how to refuse an advance or stop an awkward situation without bruising his date's ego. His ability at flirting was developing a high polish. By Valentine's day, his level of feminine confidence and experience came to a turning point.

There was to be a Valentine's Day Dance. It was a tradition in Hidden Hollow and had become so popular that it had expanded from the town to the big, old dance hall in Bradley. Despite the snow and cold, a crowd of two thousand or more could be expected, not counting the small children that attended with their parents. Cited as a semi-formal affair, anything from a sport coat, tie, and jeans to a tux had become acceptable.

Mary, Falana, and three other girls were giggling and discussing the dance over cokes after school at McD's. Several guys were horse-playing and joking at a table nearby. One of the group had gone to the rest room and he returned, navigating near Falana's table. Falana couldn't keep his eyes off the young man's handsome face. He grinned and nodded at Falana, touching the brim of his ball cap in a pseudo-tip, and sat, trying not to show that he was still aware of Falana's gaze. Falana played coy, while still letting the boy know that there was defiantly an attraction, an open opportunity there for the taking. Normally he wouldn't act this way but this was one of those periods when his genetic pattern dictated nothing and his estrogen overload commanded his actions.

The guy couldn't help but be flattered by the attention. It took ten minutes of Falana's unfettered flirting before he left his friends and walked to Falana. He pushed back his hat, then offered the same hand for a shake, "Hi. Um, my name is Gus McCoy. I heard you girls talking about the dance. If you don't already have a date ma'am, I'd like to be your escort."

Unknowingly the three friends watched as Falana accepted his first private date. It never occurred to them that Falana had never been out alone with a man, but Mary knew. Falana introduced himself, "I'm Falana Aman and, yes, I would be pleased to accompany you to the dance." The girls smiled at the romantic, demure performance Falana staged.

Gus looked around the room, "Look, ah, there's an empty table over there," he said indicating with a finger, "If your friends will excuse you for a minute, I'd like for us to get to know one another better." They left the giggling girls and spent a half-hour meeting each other.

Falana and Mary walked home, mostly in silence. Mary hadn't asked about Falana's conversation but couldn't hold back any longer, "You kept telling me that you weren't going out with any guys because you were still attracted to girls and then you accept a date from this boy? Well, what is it, he just to cute to pass up?"

"Yeah, he's cute. I don't know why I'm so attracted to him. I guess that's why I accepted. Anyway, I haven't really been able to have a good time trying to behave like a nice girl while double dating with a slut like you." Mary gave him a shot in the ribs. "I've been thinking about going out alone with a boy, but after Rich, it made me feel queer. When I saw Gus, I, well, I just decided that he would be the one that would be my first date. I still feel kinda funny, but I'm going," Falana was defiant.

Valentine's Day came and Gus showed promptly at seven. Falana had bought a new dress for the dance. It was a simple blue velvet shift, but the neckline was cut from the shoulders deep into the cleavage and this was framed with black lace. The lace also hung seductively from beneath the hemline and slipped from the cuffs, covering the back of the hands. Black nylons and black satin shoes finished the bottom while a big black lace bow held back the left side of his fluffy hair, exposing the blue crystals dangling from his ears. Gus was duly impressed, judging by the swelling in his crotch. In a black suit, boots, and tie, with a splash of contrast provided by his white satin vest and red carnation, Gus also gripped Falana's eye. He carried a black orchid corsage which Falana happily wore. After helping Falana with his coat, the couple were off on their date.

The dance was crowded and the drink lines were long. Gus did manage to get them some champagne, but mostly the couple drank punch and danced. Along about ten, hunger set in and they left for a restaurant not far away. Several inches of snow still lay on the ground but the streets were fairly clear and the walks for several blocks had been scraped clean. They walked the short distance, arm in arm.

At the eatery, sitting next to each other in a secluded booth, they enjoyed a quiet meal of shrimp Newburg, shared a bottle of white zinfandel, and talked in whispers with faces close together. The experience was dreamy for Falana. He began to feel more comfortable, more right, about being with a boy. Soon, the soft whispers evolved into soft, little kisses. Through desert they held hands while feeding each other strawberry shortcake.

They began the cold walk back to the dance, stopping for a moment to watch a pair of rabbits copulate near the river bridge. The romance had only lasted a minute or so from courtship to divorce but it had a noticeable effect on the fledgling female, Falana. Gus offered a room in a nearby hotel and Falana accepted with a seductive kiss, figuring that some heavy petting and kissing would be acceptable. Full sex could be avoided if necessary by a blow-job, he had done that before, and the affair could be finished before Gus reached Falana's "pussy."

The hotel was a nice little private one, barely more than a bed and breakfast, off the main drive. The owners greeted their guests with towels and a key almost before accepting any money. The room was as quaint as an old study but elegant in antique furniture and rich wall paper. Lighting was low and non-direct, the room smelled of sweet lilacs, and the bed was soft.

Gus removed their wraps and kissed Falana delicately. Returning the kiss with equal tenderness, Falana was easily led to the bed. There, Gus' kisses were more ardent and Falana more receptive. Gus turned Falana, unzipped his dress, and carefully unveiled his date. He removed the dress to the closet and hung it on a hanger. Falana was impressed with his care and returned the refinement with his coat, tie, and vest. They kissed more and sat together removing their shoes. Falana started for the bed, using the excuse of sliding between the sheets as a rouse for a necessary break from the surprising romantic excitement of mutual undressing. This move would also give Falana a situational advantage so that he could better control Gus' actions as he entered the bed. Gus had other ideas, however, and as Falana leaned over the bed and before he could pull back the sheets, Gus leaned forward and slid two fingers under the elastic of Falana's panty hose and began to pull them down. Falana spun to face him, but Gus' fingers never left the elastic and he continued to pull down, hooking Falana's panties. Squatting as he pulled, he came face to face with Falana's little prick, which had chosen this moment to become somewhat erect for the first time in weeks. Falana tried to grab the panties but was too slow and off balance.

"What the fuck?" Gus blurted out with no concern for the thin walls.

"Oh God!" Falana tried to cover himself but Gus' fingers were still ensnared in the nylon undies. "I didn't want you to know, Gus. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I thought that I could keep it from you if I was careful. I'm sorry Gus, really! Really! Really."

Gus stood and pulled his fingers from their entrapment, he questioned, "What is that?"

Falana remembered an article that he had read about transsexuals and drawing on their plight, burst out, "I'm really a girl, Gus. I mean I am a boy but I shouldn't be, understand? I'm really a girl."

Falana's statement rang false in Gus' ear and the situation loomed inconceivable in his mind. He backed across the room and sat in a remote chair while gazing at Falana's face. Long moments passed. Falana sat on the bed and pulled the covers over his nakedness. Gus made some noises before he spoke for Falana to hear him, "I really like you. I mean, I like you as a girl. I don't want to like you as a boy."

Sitting quietly, hurting, Falana was lost. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. Gus watched for a few moments before he got up and went to the bathroom. Falana's eyes followed his walk and he needed to say something, "I can be a girl. I mean that I will be a girl someday." He began reciting as much as he could recall from the article as if it related to himself: "I was born a boy but there's something wrong. I should have been a girl. I've seen a doctor and I'm going to have an operation so that I can really be a girl. You can see that I don't look anything like a boy. I never should have been a boy. I'm a girl in a boy's body." Falana wanted it to sound like the truth. It did.

He stopped for a moment to allow his memory to catch-up but Gus spoke from the bathroom, "Maybe after you have surgery...maybe then. Right now I think you should get dressed. I won't tell anyone about you."

"Please Gus, don't treat me like this. Don't talk to me from the bathroom. Don't make me feel ashamed," Falana's words flowed freely, surprising him. Suddenly he realized what was hurting him: the shame of his deception.

Gus returned from seclusion but stayed near the door, "Just get dressed. I don't want to see you...like that. I want to see you as the beautiful girl I had a date with tonight. Please get dressed."

Falana dried his eyes on the sheets being careful not to wreak more havoc on the make-up he took an hour to apply. It took several minutes for Falana's composure to solidify, then he dressed and repaired his face as well as possible in the dresser mirror. When finished, he called to Gus. There was no answer. He crept into the bathroom fearing that Gus had escaped through the window, trading his clothes for freedom from the weirdness. Gus was asleep, sitting on the toilet, his head on his arm on the sink. Falana tip-toed to him and touched his collarbone. Gus opened one eye and looked at his tormentor. "I fell asleep...or am I still dreaming?" Gus asked, giving the obvious impression that he liked what he saw. Falana grinned. Gus smiled bigger, saying, "You are very pretty. When...well, after, I want to date you again. I don't want to start over, I just want a postponement." Falana leaned forward and softly kissed his cheek. He smiled.

They walked back to the dance making small talk, avoiding anything about the evening as a subject. Falana started for the hall but Gus took his arm and led him to the car. The drive back was a quieter than the drive to the dance. Parking in the drive, Gus helped Falana from the car, offering his arm. They walked silently to the door. Gus stopped and kissed Falana on the mouth, a little smooch, "Just a postponement. I'll be back in touch."

Falana slowly crossed the lobby to the elevator. He didn't move right away when the doors opened, or closed. He pushed the button and they opened again. Exiting on his floor, every step that took him closer to his room brought a tear. "It's stupid to cry. You are a boy," Falana reassured himself. But as the key turned in the lock, Falana's heart exploded into a raging river of mixed emotions that ebbed somewhere in sleep.

 

As it would be, this was not the only time Falana's little prick proved to be a problem. Near exposures happened in bathrooms and fitting rooms more than once. There was also an accidental impact of his crotch that resulted in more incapacitation than any girl would have experienced. And then there was summer. Mary was excited about Falana's debut in a bikini, but his little problem again showed it's little, pink head.

Mary offered to speak to Doc Turner about the problem and Falana agreed. After a week, the doctor had a solution, "What I'll do is make an incision on each side of your scrotal sack. I'll reach in and push your testicles up into your abdomen through the vas duct openings and then close the ducts with sutures. When these are removed at a later date, the openings may need to be enlarged but your testicles will fall back into place. I will then suture the sides of the two incisions together, forming a "hollow" that your penis can be pushed into. This will keep it in place without any outside assistance. Then I will remove two diamond shaped pieces of skin from immediately above your penis and along the edges of your sack and from the bottom of your sack. After suturing the sides of the removal sites together, it will pull the loose sides of your sack together, forming what will appear to be labia major, a woman's external lips. With your penis secure in the hollow, the lips should fully close over it, and your appearance will be that of a normal woman. Then by pulling the tip of your penis from beneath the lips, you will also be able to urinate without removing the entire penis from its secure position in the hollow. This will help prevent exposure of your genitals while urinating but you must, of course, be sitting when you release your bladder. These cosmetic procedures can be reversed with a simple operation."

Falana reputed Doc's confidence, "It seems like too much. I don't think it will work."

Mary reminded him, "It seems like the only choice to avoid betrayal of your true sex."

Falana thought for a long time before nodding his head in agreement.

 

 

Falana had just taken his last final. School was out for the summer and Mary was waiting for him at the pool. The sun was bright and a warm, flower filled breeze wafted around the valley. Falana stood naked in front of the full length mirror on his closet door. The stitches had been removed over a month ago and the redness had mostly disappeared. He touched the doc's work. It looked like a pussy with a long clit hanging out of it. He parted the lips and with a finger, pulled open the hollow and eased the clit in, pushing until it was fully hidden. When released, the folds pulled back into place and the pussy lips closed. He ran a finger down the crack, straightening it. There was no hint to his true sex, there was only a womanly appearance. Even his pubic hair drew smoothly toward the closed lips. He stepped back to reveal the wide hips and smooth skin surrounding his newly acquired femininity. Long satin legs tapered into small feet. His diminutive waist seemed to flow straight into his thin shoulders, interrupted only by rather large breasts. Delicate arms and long, thin fingers hung at his side. Atop slender shoulders rested the head of a pretty young woman, this encased in shining, rich red hair, pulled into a pony tail and secured with a scarf.

Examining his false womanhood from other angles, he lifted each leg and viewed the slit from beneath. There was no visible evidence of masculinity. There was only a pussy. He spread his legs and touched the cleavage. Pushing a finger inside, he checked to be sure his penis was still there. It was, but it was still necessary to make sure. He reached for the bikini that Mary had given him for his birthday. Stepping into the skimpy bottoms, he pulled them into place and again viewed his crotch. The little problem was gone. In its place was a print covered pussy, the lips, the slit, barely covered by the thin material. Pulling the top into place, tying it behind his neck, his hard nipples stood defiant against the entrapment. "An attractive young woman," he thought, trying to remember that he was a seventeen year old boy. But it was only a memory. A flick of his hand and pressure from his finger sent a cloud of "White Shoulders" wafting around his neck, waist, and thighs. He checked lipstick and the secureness of earrings, then sauntered out to join Mary at the pool.

Summer days seemed eternal yet the season seemed short. There weren't many days for pool side leisure, at least not for those who worked at the hotel, but Falana and Mary managed to get a tan and many dates. They had Friday nights off, which was perhaps the perfect night to spend time showing the sights to visitors. Falana's female side developed into a bubbling, confident young woman, able to flirt or converse with anyone. He also developed a solid poise, fitting into convention crowds or a small dinner with equal grace. Eddie had gathered a good sense of who Falana was and unconsciously fit himself into her mold. Which is to say more than what he could do with her clothes. By the start of his senior year, his bust had increased two inches and a "C" cup was now fully filled. In fact, his measurements, 5 feet 8 inches, and 36-23-34, made him one of the most fully developed and stately young women at school. He was so impressive that, at the begging of several of his girl friends, good friends, and acquaintances, he reluctantly entered the Bradley Junior Miss America contest as Miss Hidden Hollow, a title that became unanimously bestowed upon him by the city consul since there was no one else from Hidden Hollow that signed-up for the pageant. Support from the town became strong during the preliminaries in Bradley.

Aside from his feminine physical attributes, and with Wendell's help, Falana developed a stylish and impressive magic act that easily swept the talent competition. Miss Hazel and Lilly had been very supportive from the start but as it became pretty obvious that Falana was most likely going to be the next Bradley Junior Miss America, offers of clothing, cash, travel and lodging, and even the use of a car came pouring in. On a warm September evening, and now filling perfectly the beautiful red gown that Lilly had given him, Falana stood with two other girls on the stage of the Bradley Civic Center, before a crowd of two thousand. These three were the finalists, having been chosen from a field of fifteen. There was Misty, a thin blonde with classic features, Georgette, a short, buxom brunette with a drawl as thick as Crissy's, and Falana, who was holding himself very still so that the large bead of sweat that clung to his hairline just above his left eye wouldn't become dislodged and temporarily blind him. They had each drawn a numbered question from a bowl of twenty. The other girls had drawn lower numbers and had gone first. Misty had an ecology question and answered well, Georgette drew a question about representation but was nervous and spoke so quickly that only people that spoke with the same drawl could understand what she said. Falana was called to the microphone. He proudly stepped forward, giving a quick jerk of his head that sent the drip flying out to impact Georgette's right shoulder.

He walked stately to the yellow spot and stood smiling as Dave Dailey, the most listened to DJ in the city, asked Falana's question. It was a simple question about law and order. Falana speeled out some thoughtful sounding scrub on how laws were being abused by the courts and too many criminals were going free. The decision didn't take long: Georgette was second runner-up, Misty was first, and Falana was the new Bradley Junior Miss America. The crowd hardily approved. Though in a daze, he gracefully walked the center aisle, his face glowing amid flashes from his shining hair and beaded grown.

Next day, Falana's picture, with a generous view of his thigh exposed from the slit of his gown, sitting atop a white Mustang, graced the front page of The Bradley Gazette. There were reporters, friends, and unfamiliar faces buzzing around him for the next three weeks before the Miss Tri-County Junior Miss America pageant. New clothes came and current event coaches drilled him at every available moment. Wendell worked-out a nifty trick where Falana could escape from a padlocked trunk and set off sparkler and confetti charges at the same time. A beautiful, beaded blue and silver gown arrived from an "unknown admirer."

A few nights later, on a Nashville stage with four other girls, Falana proudly stood wearing the flashing gown. Again he had drawn the last question. William Smith, the most viewed newscaster in the state, called him forward to the white X. Falana smiled assuredly as the question was read: "As we near the last decade of this century, the economy is in trouble and many are out of work. Times will be hard for the young men and women of today as they take their place as adults. What assets do you feel will serve you best in tomorrow's job market?"

Falana thought for a moment. He had taken part in a similar discussion in his sociology class last week. He smiled and began, "I believe there are three assets that any person, male or female will need. First is knowledge. A well rounded and applicable education will be necessary to compete in a shrinking market. Second is self-confidence, because employers will have many to chose from and unless you can really believe in yourself, no employer will believe in you. Third is personal integrity. When times are tough, many will feel the desire to turn to drugs or cheat or steal to make it. Unless one has high morals and a strong desire for fair play, a person will succumb to the gutters of life." His serious face broke into a huge smile once he saw the judges' approvals of his statement. The crowd loved it. Falana smiled with a nod toward his friends and returned to his white dot. The scoring took forever.

A girl with a toothy smile and bleached hair was second runner-up. Falana stood holding hands with Melissa, who had shared his make-up table and offered more friendship than any of the other snooty "professional pageanters" there. She was tall, thin but strong, a dancer who did a perfect number to "Memories" from Cats. They smiled at each other to hide their fear. Melissa was awarded first runner-up.

Falana's knees felt weak and a wave of failure wafted through him. He felt sure that since Melissa, who was far more talented than he, hadn't won, the bleached blonde who had been rubbing her boobs on all the male judge's arms during individual interviews and kissing-up to the women judges, would be selected. The winner's name was in a separate sealed envelope and William Smith dropped it while trying tear it open and hold the microphone. The envelope fluttered next to the blonde's foot. Mr. Smith bent over for it and as he rose, his head crashed into her right boob, dislodging a large piece of foam rubber that, unnoticed by blondie, positioned itself prominently in her overexposed cleavage. Falana had to grin, wondering if the foam would grandstand as she took her walk and be as prominent tomorrow on the front page.

William Smith regained his composure, not knowing why the laughter held on for so long, and pulled the slip of paper from the folds, "Your new Tri-County Junior Miss America is Miss Bradley, Falana Christine Aman." The Hidden Hollow delegation were on their feet howling and clapping.

As the crowd cheered and gave a standing ovation, Falana went into shock. He couldn't move and began to cry, holding his hands to his face. Melissa quickly came to his aid, helping her friend into the cape and crown, and giving him a shove toward the walkway. Bradley had been a fun thing but Nashville had been a week of hard work. The realization that he had just won over some real competition by real girls was causing him to shake tremendously. But he held his fear in check, held his head high, and concentrated on gracefully planting one foot in front of the next, until the end of the walkway was reached. The silver beads of his gown sent rainbows flying with every bursting flashbulb. The mass of his curls shown as polished copper coils, dancing with the slightest movement of his head. Mascara trickled down his cheeks with his tears and past the corners of his broad, beaming smile. After several minutes he recovered enough to remember to return to the stage and his throne.

It was a night of dreams come true and phantomistic excitement. Falana's confidence and sheer femininity stood shining through the chaos, proving him a worthy Princess.

Backstage, after the media finished, Falana and Melissa sat and talked for a long time. Falana was afraid and confessed his fear, but not all the reasons why, to his new friend. She was understanding, very supportive of Falana's success, and not hurt severely by her own loss.

Late that night, after all the flap had died-down, as he tried to sleep, he thought about the future, for him, for Falana, and decided that he could not continue.

The next morning there were more photographers and reporters and supporters. Falana stood before them and started to relinquish the crown but couldn't. It was his. Its was his femininity that had been the prime contributing factor to the award and it was his. He smiled and waved and signed autographs, surrendering to the glory and seduction of triumph.

Miss Tennessee was only two weeks away. Falana began studying to enlighten his responses to questions of the world and to make perfect his magic. Gaining new confidence in his femininity and appearance, he looked forward to Miss Tennessee, and even toward becoming the Junior Miss U.S.A.

There was a problem though, something that Falana wasn't aware of until he stood in the doctor's office. The results of the DNA test were described as "inconclusive." The whole affair was kept quiet as Falana was stripped of the title. It was explained that Lilly couldn't give permission for Falana to compete in the national event since she was not officially, legally, a guardian, and Falana's dad refused to allow his daughter to be so exposed.

Many came with condolences for the Princess. Many sent word of how sorry they were. Falana sat in his room and cried, reminiscing with the pictures of all that had happened, until Melissa came to visit. She was truly sorry for what had happened and sat talking with him for over three hours. After she left, he felt better. The title, the grandeur, the pinnacle of femininity was his, but he realized that Melissa would better serve the ideal and was happy for her.

There were other opportunities for Falana's femininity to be expressed. One instance was Crissy's wedding. Crissy and her beau had reached financial inauguration about the time of Falana's fall, so it was beneficial to his female ego that he be a bridesmaid at the largest wedding in Hidden Hollow in many years. There was much attention for the former Junior Miss Tri-County, many young men to dance with, and once again his femininity frothed full.

And there were new responsibilities at The Spa. Crissy's life was now with her husband and Falana was groomed to be the new receptionist/clerk at the front desk. This meant more time in dresses and heels and more contact with older men who were entranced by the flowering red head. Falana spent the summer honing a mature womanhood and any aspect of masculine behavior was forever lost.

The senior school year was a breeze. Although many of the students were Falana's age, there was a definite difference in their mental outlook. Where other students still hung-out at the A&W and boys shyly asked giggling girls to the movies, Falana spent free time being served in fine restaurants and enjoying concerts and plays in Nashville or Memphis or even Washington D.C., always on the arm of an acquaintance of financial means and unmatched handsomeness. Lilly would occasionally prevent such far reaching dates but it was usually because there wouldn't be sufficient time for rest between the travel, school, and work.

Falana planned to move to Washington as soon as she graduated. She had several job offers, and several offers for the position of mistress, but she planned to work at the Hilton. The manager there had graciously made both offers although she planned only to accept the position of head clerk. She also planned to get a small apartment and to enter college, fulfilling the creation of a worldly, confident, intelligent woman.

It was the weekend before graduation. Falana was working the front desk when she became uncomfortable, a feeling that she was being watched. She looked around the desk area, toward Lilly's office. There was no one there. A scan of the lobby for the source of her affliction was to no avail. She reached out with her eyes, toward the restaurant, carefully searching, and contacted another set of eyes, familiar eyes, casually but unfailingly monitoring her every movement, detailing even every breath. "Gus. Gus!" she yelled with excitement and rounded the corner of the desk in a full run.

Gus captured her in full flight, holding her close, kissing her gently on the neck and ear and passionately on the lips when she finally released him enough to allow their faces to meet. "I've watched you for a long time. I've waited for you to become a complete woman and I've seen that happen despite your not having that operation," his breath played warmly in Falana's ear as his soft words filled her heart.

He was right. Falana had become a woman. It wasn't intentional. The point of womanhood came not without evidence but without exactness, somewhere in the past. Now it was ingrained as deep as her soul. She reluctantly released his body and looked at the young man. No ball cap, no tee shirt, his suit was tailored and his hair was well cut, soft and free. "You look wonderful."

"I've been working for my dad selling real estate, been doing well. I haven't been pulling a full load in school -- still have two years to go, but I'm taking a couple of months off. I'd like us to spend some time together, find out if maybe we should spend a lot of time together," his serious face was punctuated with a small, warm smile. Falana kissed it.

Her shift wasn't over, Falana needed to check in a couple that were waiting, watching the reunion. Gus also needed a room. Conveniently, the room next to Falana's was vacant. He went upstairs to wait while she fidgeted, anxiously awaiting Nina, her replacement. Once she showed, Falana was gone before the girl could get from the lockers to the desk on the other side of the doorway.

Racing upstairs, Falana freshened-up and changed, ready for an evening of close encountering. Before she could clear the room a message came from Lilly asking her to come downstairs immediately. Frustrated and reluctant, she returned to the front desk and entered Lilly's office.

She stamped impatiently into the shallow, wide office. The evening sun poured through the large window, casting Lilly into shadowed darkness as she stood behind her desk. To her left stood a young woman of about eighteen and far to her right, near the door to the kitchen, stood Sheriff Tisdale. Deputy Carver closed the door behind Falana as she entered. Lilly spoke, "Falana, there is someone here I would like you to meet." She turned toward the girl and touched her shoulder, "This is my niece Falana Christine Aman."

Falana didn't understand at first. She looked at Lilly, at the girl, at Sheriff Tisdale, and over her shoulder at Deputy Carver. It was then that she knew what was occurring: betrayal! She screamed and charged Lilly.

Deputy Carver grabbed her from behind and crushed her into the desk, knocking its orderly contents everywhere. He twisted one arm behind her and snapped a handcuff around her wrist. With the deftness of a skilled magician, Falana lifted a paper clip from the strewn desk with the thumb of her free hand and hid it between her middle fingers before Carver could force her other arm into the shackle.

The sheriff spoke, "Eddie Jevers, you are under arrest for jail break, unlawful flight, fraud, postal theft, and whatever else I can find later to charge you with." This was followed by a recital of the Miranda rights, accompanied by a constant demonic chuckle emanating from Lilly's throat. Tisdale turned to his accompanist, "Lilly, you want to go upstairs with me and show me where you found those papers and letters from your niece that this sick-o used to fabricate this unbelievable fraud on you."

Lilly's delight in the moment subsided to a conservative level, "If you don't mind sheriff, I would like to have a few private words with Eddie. You can put him in that chair. He won't go anywhere. Falana can show you the letters, they're just between the mattress and the springs."

The sheriff nodded and motioned for the girl to come with him. They left through the kitchen. Lilly called before the door shut, "Sheriff! I really would like to be alone with the boy. I can handle him. He won't get away."

The sheriff looked at Falana, who was now on her feet but firmly gripped by the big deputy. "Let them be alone for a few minutes. Put him in that chair with his arms behind the back. Take a smoke break in the lobby, Carver."

The deputy lifted Falana into the air and set her crashing down into an old, high backed chair positioned in front of a maid's cart parked against the wall. Then he double checked the handcuffs and sat her up straight in the chair, "If he moves Lilly, just holler. I'll be in here before he can get his arms over the back of that chair."

This is just what Falana needed. She could have the cuffs off in less than a minute and be out through the kitchen, across the river, into the woods, and a chance for escape within three minutes. Carver was strong but heavy. Surely she could out run him. But first there was something she had to know: why the betrayal? When the room emptied, she was first to speak, "Why Lilly? Why? What you did for me...I have a life now, a future...a chance. Why destroy me?"

Lilly cackled again, scrounged a cigarette from the desk's dishevelment, lit it, tossed the lighter onto the desk, inhaled a large lung full of smoke, and blew it carelessly into the air as she flopped into her swivel chair. She twisted left and right, and again, then took another drag from the cigarette, before she thoughtfully spoke in smokey, hell wrought words, "I never did tell you why I saved you before, did I?" She took another drag. "Perhaps now I should."

Falana's deft fingers had the paper clip almost shaped into a pick.

Lilly took another drag. "I suppose you deserve the whole story. Where should I start?"

The left cuff quietly released from Falana's wrist.

She took in another drag, "I think you would understand better if you knew my madden name. It's Kingsman. You knew my father, Carol's father, Mary Beth's grandfather, Silas Kingsman. He was an old man who ran an institution for juvenile offenders in Illinois."

Falana's right wrist was free. The cuffs lay silently, uselessly, on the chair behind her, but she remained motionless, her arms behind her, her curiosity keeping her prisoner still.

Smoke filtered still from her lips, "He had his faults. He was a drunk. But he didn't deserve to die."

Falana started to spring up in a rage but held herself in check, letting her voice communicate her anger, "The bastard was raping little boys! He would drink, beat up a boy, and then pull his pants down and stick his dick into the kid's ass as he screamed in terror. Kingsman deserved to die more than most men ever deserve to die!"

"You murdered my father."

"I murdered a pervert, a sick piece of inhuman trash!"

Lilly's eyes flashed with hatred for a moment, then she closed them, took a drag, and calmly continued, "You're coming here was fate. When we realized who you were, Carol started to kill you then. I wanted to also but The Spa couldn't stand the disgrace. I was about to call the sheriff when Mary stopped me and said she had an idea. She suggested we keep you a prisoner upstairs. I thought of how we could keep you here, torture you, starve you, put you into hell. And as I thought I kept remembering things I learned in Sunday school. I remembered how Jesus wasn't afraid to die because he would have another life, a new life. And the more I thought, I developed this idea of giving you a new life, a life that would be a living hell. You see, your 'disguise' wasn't Mary Beth's idea, it was mine. She just played you into it perfectly." She took a drag and cackled, "You turned eighteen last week. You'll spend the rest of you original sentence in a regular prison plus any time you get for your escape and the fraud of portraying my 'niece' Falana, who really is my niece Sally. Her name was changed legally at the same time your false records were created."

She laughed out loud now, the evil of her soul exposed, "Yes, they're really gonna love you in prison. Why, you'll be the top personality, or at least the top property. Talk about raping boys!!..."

As Lilly laughed in praise of her depravity, Falana's plans for flight, for future, were irrevocably, eternally changed. There on the cart behind her was a bottle, a bottle she had seen hundreds of times before, a bottle filled with spot remover for the rugs, a bottle with a warning on the side in red letters: "Caution! Extremely Flammable! Keep away from flame and heat!" Imperceptibly she pulled the bottle from the cart. And as her skilled fingers motionlessly removed the lid from the bottle, her mind plotted distances, timing, every movement from the chair to the desk, to the lighter, to that Satan-spawned devil incarnate...

 

 

 

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