With artwork by Marina Twelve

 

 

 

Prologue

When fifteen-year-old Cary learned that the local community theatre group was looking for new cast members for an upcoming play, he enthusiastically went to the tryouts. But the only part open for his age group was the role of Daphne, a fifteen-year-old girl.

 

Chapter 1

I had begun to hang around the playhouse as soon as I learned that the community theater group would be putting on a production of ‘Guts and Garters’, a three act comedy written by C. Sprite. The play is set in Victorian era, New England. I was only fifteen years old, but they tolerated me, and let me help out. I ran errands, assisted in the construction of the scenery, and helped the actors with their lines. I did just about anything that the director needed to have done. In return, I received a small sense of satisfaction, and a front row seat to all of the rehearsals. But even more importantly, I got access to the wardrobe department. Now THIS was the stuff that dreams are made of.

Whenever opportunity presented itself, and my hands were free of dirt, grime, and paint, I would look at, and feel, the wonderful costumes that the actors would wear in the production. The director was striving for realism, so the costumes were historically accurate. I had heard several of the women complaining about having to wear a corset, and I couldn’t understand why they were objecting. The corsets gave them the most wonderful figures, and they looked so marvelous in them.

Ever since I had seen the movie ‘Gone with the Wind’, I had begun to romanticize the second half of the 19^th century. I had spent enormous amounts of time at my local library reading everything that I could find about the period following the Civil War, up to the turn of the century. My library card was so battered and worn that my picture was barely recognizable. Most of the time, the scanner would not be able to read the imprinted bar code. The librarians all knew me, of course, and would just punch in the numbers as I called them out. Mrs. Parker, the head librarian, would always tell me to have a new one made up the next time that I came in, but they were usually busy when I got there, so it never got done. Since the condition of my old card never prevented me from taking books out, I didn’t give the matter of getting a replacement a very high priority.

Each day, after school let out, I hurried to the library. My schoolmates would run home to change so that they could play some sports game or other, but I couldn’t wait to explore the wonderful world of books and literature. Besides, I was terrible at sports. I was small and puny when compared to the ‘jocks’. And on the rare occasions when I had tried to join their games, I was either not allowed to, or I was ridiculed when I muffed a play. I didn’t have to have a building land on me to know that I was not destined for a career in sports. So, my books became my dearest friends. Plus, I met a number of nice girls at the library. Just because I wasn’t a jock, it didn’t mean that I was ugly. In fact, my Aunt Jessica was always telling me that my shoulder length blond hair, deep blue eyes, and small, thin face, were wasted on a boy. She kept telling me that girls would kill to have my long, full eyelashes. I spent quite a bit of time, after she first said it, looking in a mirror to see what she meant, but I could never see anything special about them. I figured that she must be teasing me, but I really liked my aunt, so I never got angry. What did bother me, at this point in my life, occurred when I used the telephone. My voice hadn’t deepened yet, but since I had developed the verbal skills of an adult, people who didn’t know who was calling, would call me ma’m. I tolerated it, knowing that in a few years, I would begin to sound like a man.

When I had read about the upcoming play, in an announcement posted on the community bulletin board in the library, I knew that I wanted to be a part of it. But when I went to the theater’s casting call, they told me that they didn’t have any roles for a 15-year-old boy. In fact the only role for a young teen, was a part for a fifteen-year-old girl.

"If no young ladies apply, would you be interested in trying out for that role? You have an androgynous face and body, and your voice sounds feminine because it is still high pitched. With the right make-up, you could be made to look quite convincing in the role." the director, Mr. Tucker, said.

"Uh, thanks, but I don’t think so. I’d never live it down."

"My dear boy, this is the theatre. In William Shakespeare’s day, no women were permitted to be actors. Men played all of the women’s roles. There is no stigma in acting as someone that you are not. A real man does not fear ridicule from the great-unwashed masses. He is confident in his abilities and sexuality. Let loose your petty teenage sexual mores, and embrace the maturity of a real man. Look at Dustin Hoffman, Patrick Swayze, and Wesely Snipes, to name just a few who have acted in women’s clothing over the past few years."

	Drawing by Marina Twelve

"Uh, I came here to help out, but, I would prefer not to play a girl, sir. Isn’t there anything else that I could do?"

"Well, if you don’t want to join the great fraternity of actors, then we can always use you as an assistant."

I said, "An assistant what?"

"An assistant anything", Mr. Tucker said. "An assistant carpenter, an assistant painter, an assistant electrician maybe."

"I don’t know anything about being an electrician."

"That’s the point in being an assistant. You help somebody who does know what they are doing, and in addition to being helpful, you learn to do the work."

I thought about it for a few seconds and said, "Okay, Mr. Tucker. I’ll do my best."

"Then you’re hired, Assistant Cary. For your first job, would you ask the lovely Maria, working behind the boxes on Stage Left, to show you how to make a pot of coffee. I live on the stuff, and need copious amounts on a daily basis. From now on, that will be your job. Make sure that that pot is never empty. Okay, Cary?"

"Yes sir. You mean those boxes on the right over there."

"First lesson. When talking about directions on a stage, you always talk as if you are onstage facing an audience. Stage Left would be on your left if you were on stage. Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Tucker. I’ve got it."

I hurried over to Maria and she showed me how to make coffee. Over the following days I learned a lot of new things. And I learned every inch of the theater, from the cellar to the rafters, as I helped out. Whenever space was limited, I was called to do the job. My shorter stature and thin frame allowed me to squeeze in where others could not.

Preparations for the play continued at a dynamic rate. In between construction duties, I helped out in the make-up department. The director wanted everybody, who was not acting in the play, to be able to fill in for anybody else. Marge, the chief make-up person, taught me a lot. When I arrived very early one Saturday morning, she showed me how to apply makeup to an actor’s face for a stage performance, using my face. It wasn’t like the makeup that women generally use. It was very over pronounced. She explained that the stage lighting required that special makeup be used so that the actors would look normal to an audience. After she made me up, she took me out onto the stage and showed me how it looked under the incredibly bright lights. I was astounded at the difference. In the dressing room, I looked like a holloween freak, but on stage I looked almost normal. Faces of people without makeup, blurred into featureless blobs.

After we had returned to the dressing room, Mr. Tucker poked his head in and motioned to Marge. She went to the door and spoke to him for a minute. Then she came back to where I was sitting and applied cold cream to my face to remove the make-up. When my face was clean, I started to rise. She put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Wait, I want to show you something else." She started working on my face again with what looked like regular cosmetics. As she worked, she explained what she was doing and why. When she was done, she started working on my hair. The whole time that she was working, I watched her actions in the large mirror on the dressing table. I saw as she slowly changed my appearance from one of a young boy to one of a young girl. Under her expert ministrations, I became a pretty looking girl of fifteen. I was entranced by the transformation.

When she was done, she said, "Well Cary, what do you think?"

"I think that it’s amazing. I look like the twin sister that I don’t have. But I still wouldn’t want to play the part of the Daphne. It would be too embarrassing if anyone ever found out."

"Watch this." She went over to a cupboard and returned with a blond wig. After ten minutes of fitting it to my head with some kind of adhesive, she stepped back out of the way. It was incredible. It looked like it had grown there. The hair fell down my back almost to my waist. She stood behind me and began combing and brushing it. Then she put in a red ribbon, which held it all behind me.

"Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you now. Go show Mr. Tucker. He wanted to see it when it was done."

"Did he put you up to this?"

"Yes. But don’t be angry. It’s all in fun. He wanted to see if he was right about your features. There are only cast members in the theatre and nobody will say anything to hurt you. Come on, I’ll take you."

"I don’t know Marge. I’m embarrassed. It’s one thing to do it here, with you. We’re friends. But I’m nervous about letting anybody else see."

"Oh, come on. I promise you that nobody will laugh. Besides, it’s still very early and only a couple of members of the company are even here at this hour. Most won’t arrive until noon."

So together we walked out onto the stage. Mr. Tucker looked at me and stared. "I knew it. You could have done the role of Daphne if you had been willing. The clothes could handle the rest of the body. And your voice still sounds like a fifteen-year-old girl’s. What do you think, Debbie?"

Debbie was the girl that had been cast for the role of Daphne. She was seventeen, but was cast as the fifteen-year-old because no other young girls had applied. "I think that he’s prettier than I am. I’m jealous. And I love the hair. Do I get to wear that wig for my performance?"

Marge said, "No, I have a different one for you. Yours has a little more red in it to better suit your complexion. This one is very close to Cary’s own hair, so I used this one on her. I mean him. Sorry, Cary."

Debbie said, "He may have a prettier face than I do, but I know that I look better in a dress than he would. He just doesn’t have the right shape. No hips to speak of. And his tush is non-existent."

Barbara, the wardrobe mistress, spoke up for the first time. "Debbie, you’re almost a grown woman. You know that all of that stuff can be faked, and it is faked every single day. Hollywood wardrobe people make careers by shaping bodies with fake appliances and special clothing. I could take Cary into the backroom and inside of two hours turn him into the hottest looking woman in this town. He already has the face for it."

"I’ve got ten dollars that says you can’t make him look better than I do in my costume."

Mr. Tucker said, "I’ll cover that bet. I have every confidence in Barbara. She’s the best."

Barbara reached for my hand and said, "Come with me, Cary."

I pulled back. "Now wait a minute. I never agreed to do this."

Mr. Tucker said, "Cary, have I been wrong about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I got the impression over the past couple of weeks that you were interested in becoming a thespian. You’ve always been willing to try anything associated with our little company. I was amazed at the maturity of one so young. And you’ve adapted to every job that you’ve been given. This is just another job. An acting job. Nobody is going to think you any less a man. Quite the opposite. As I told you when you first came to us, a mature man is confident in his abilities and sexuality. Have I been wrong about you?"

I was on the spot. Who among us is willing to openly admit that they are immature and unconfident about their sexuality? So I said, "No, I don’t think that you are wrong."

"Wonderful. Barbara take our young man with you and work your magic."

I didn’t know what to say. I had just sealed my own fate with my answer. I considered breaking free and running out of the theatre, but instead I let myself be docilely led to the wardrobe room with Barbara and Marge. They set up a changing curtain and had me step behind it. Then they told me to remove my clothes, down to my boxer shorts. I did so and handed them to them as I removed each piece.

As I stood there wearing only my shorts, Barbara suddenly said, "This is never going to work like this." And grabbing the curtain, she pushed it aside and grabbed my hand and led me to a chair.

At first I was shocked, then gradually I calmed down as the ladies talked and treated me with the clinical detachment of medical personnel. After their brief conference, Barbara came over to me with shaving gel and a safety razor. I told her that I didn’t shave yet, and she laughed.

"This is for the areas that men don’t usually shave, sweetheart." With that said, she proceeded to shave my legs. I balked at first, then calmed down and let her proceed. I had heard that some guys shave their body because the hair is supposed to come back heavier and coarser. If anybody said anything, I could always claim that that was the reason for my lack of hair. I personally thought that the claim was an old wives tale, but I could use it for an excuse. After my legs, she started to lather my chest. I didn’t have hardly any hair there so I didn’t protest. But when she wanted to shave my pits, I protested.

"Come on, Cary. You’ve gone this far. The hair will grow back quickly. You can’t look like a woman if you have hairy armpits."

I acquiesced and before I knew it, I was devoid of hair over most of my body. I really didn’t have a lot to start with, but now I had less. She plucked a couple of fine hairs from my face and finished up by shaving my arms. There had only been little more than peach fuzz there anyway. When she was done, I only had the hair on my head, my eyebrows, and my crotch. She never came near my crotch with the razor, but I was prepared to run if she did. She put the razor down and removed the traces of shaving gel with a damp towel.

Then Marge began to work on my eyebrows with a tweezers. She had originally left them intact when she was doing my face, but now she said that they were a little too bushy. She added that once the makeup was removed, nobody would ever notice. There was no mirror near my seat, so I couldn't see what she was doing. Meanwhile Barbara was scurrying around the room pulling things from drawers and cabinets. When Marge was done, Barbara set up the screen again and told me to go behind it and remove my shorts. When I protested, she said that I couldn’t very well wear boxer shorts under the costume. I hung my head and did as she had told me. I was now standing buck naked behind the screen and regretting my decision to let this be done to me. I should have proclaimed my immaturity and lack of sexual confidence when I had the chance. At least I would still have my pride intact.

Barbara stepped to the curtain and handed me a pair of pink nylon panties. I hesitated before accepting them.

She said, "Now Cary, as you pull these up, pull your genitalia back between your legs."

I did as she said, but I started to stiffen as I handled myself. I reminded myself of where I was, and what was happening to me, and that was enough to avoid the natural course of events.

When I had done as she told me, she handed me a panty girdle with large pads built into it. When I pulled it on, I suddenly had big hips and a large tush. I again wondered if it was too late to back out.

Barbara came over and removed the screen again as I straightened up. She led me over to a work counter and began applying some kind of liquid to my chest. She told me to stand still until it started to coagulate. Then she applied what looked like rubber breasts to my chest. I stared in fascination as she worked. When they were affixed to me, she took some kind of makeup and worked around the edges to hide the seams. Then she applied some other makeup to match my skin color to the breasts. When she was done, I touched them. They felt like I would have expected real breasts to feel, and they were very heavy. They even pulled on my chest like I would expect real breasts to pull. Barbara stepped behind me and affixed a bra. It relieved some of the weight on my chest, and I actually felt better with it.

Barbara said, "You now have a 36C chest. That’s a chest that any young woman would love to have. It’s much more than a girl your age would normally have, but it’s the only size that we have. The makeup that is used to blend the color of the forms in order to hide the edges is semi-permanent. It will wear off in a few weeks. After we remove the forms, we'll redo your chest with the same makeup so that the outlines of the removed breasts won't be visible."

Then she had me put on a very short slip that only came down to my hips. Marge wrapped something around me that clipped in the front. When Barbara started to tighten the laces and I realized that it was a corset. She tightened it down until it was very snug. Then she walked around me and adjusted it to the right position. I thought that she was done, until she stepped behind me and started pulling on the laces again. When I got to point where I could barely breathe, I complained and she stopped. She tied the laces off and said, "That’s enough for now. Try to get used to it while we prepare the rest of the clothes. Take nice even breaths."

I concentrated on just being able to breathe while they moved around the room collecting articles of clothing. I began to realize what the women, who had been complaining about the corsets, had meant. It may look wonderful, but it is very uncomfortable to the wearer. Barbara led me to a chair and had me sit on the edge. She showed me how to put nylon stockings on my legs and attach them to the garter tabs that hung suspended from the corset. The stockings gave me a tingly feeling when I rubbed my legs together.

She said, "Of course, a hundred years ago, they mostly used garters to hold up their stockings. And the stockings were not made of nylon either. They were made of silk, satin, or cotton. But using modern products doesn't detract from the realism enough to worry about. And garters have been found to cause circulation problems in the legs."

Barbara then put laced-up ankle boots on my feet. They had stubby two-inch heels. With the corset on, I could never have reached them. She told me to stand up and she untied the laces to the corset. I thought that she was going to loosen it, but instead she tightened it more. I had just begun to get used to it and she was making it worse again.

Taking a tape measure, she wrapped it around me and said, "Perfect. 23 inches. Raise your arms up dear."

At this point I was unable to even protest, so I did as she said. She put another slip over me. I thought to myself, ‘Good, at least she won’t be able to tighten the corset anymore.’ I was concentrating on just getting enough air to breathe as she and Marge started piling clothes onto me. After several petticoats, they lowered a dress over my head, and laced me into it. Marge explained that they didn’t have zippers in the Victorian period. When they were done, I felt mummified. Did people actually dress like this once? Barbara started to adorn me with various pieces of jewelry, as Marge touched up my makeup, and combed my wig. Then they each worked on one of my hands, applying fake nails, shaping them, and adding several coats of nail polish. As the final coat dried, Marge held ice cubes against my ear lobes. By this time, I wasn’t even asking questions anymore. I was just accepting whatever they did to me. Suddenly I felt a stab in my right ear, then my left.

I said, "Ow, that hurt. What are you doing?"

"All done, I just have to swab them with a medicated swab to prevent infection."

"Prevent what kind of infection. I’ve never had a problem before."

"You’ve also never had your ears pierced before, that I could see."

"PIERCED? Oh no. What are my classmates going to say."

"That you’re really cool. A lot of rock groups have their ears pierced now. As well as their noses, tongues, eyebrows, navels, lips, bellybuttons, and genitalia."

"But not in this town."

Marge said, "Oh Cary, don’t be such a prude. Every young girl has her ears pierced. Most have multiple piercing these days. Mothers take their daughters to have it done when they are toddlers now. Besides, you couldn’t wear the earrings that go with this outfit if your ears weren’t pierced. If you don’t continue to wear earrings, then the holes will seal up in a few weeks. Long before school starts in September. That’s two months away."

"Well, I guess that it’s too late now to do anything about it."

"That’s the ticket. Just go with the flow."

Barbara inserted long dangling earrings through the new holes. They hurt for quite a while, like any new wound would. After that they had me walk round the room while they examined my appearance, and comportment. I felt terrible. My ear lobes hurt, my ribs ached, and my toes felt like they were locked in a vise. I had very little mobility in the heavy dress and numerous undergarments. I walked back and forth as they made comments to correct my posture and bearing. When they were satisfied that they could not do any better, they led me to a full-length mirror and I got a chance to see me. I couldn’t believe it. Staring back at me was a very pretty young woman. Of course, it was all a fake. My body had been pushed, stuffed and crammed into these clothes. It was not my natural shape. My face was covered with foundation, blush, eyeliner, highlighter, mascara, and lipstick. And I was wearing a very real looking wig. Adding in the fake fingernails, and polish, and what do you have left? Only a small part of what I could see was actually me. But it was true that some of the guys in my class would never be able to pull this off. Dress them up in these clothes and they would still look like ‘apes in drag’.

Barbara and Marge each took a hand and led me out onto the stage. Debbie had just finished getting ready in the makeup room with the help of Marge’s assistant. Barbara introduced me as ‘Crystal’. Mr. Tucker and the rest of the cast acted as judges. Most of the cast had not been there when the bet was started and were only told that the contest was between two girls to see who would have the role, and who would be the understudy. Of course Debbie and I knew that she was secure in her role regardless of the outcome of the vote. They had us walk back and forth while they examined us. At first I was very nervous, but when nobody made any wisecracks, I started to feel more at ease. They asked us to do several scenes from the play. I knew all of the lines, inasmuch as I had been helping all of the actors since I had started there. When the votes were tallied, Debbie was declared the winner by a wide margin. Mr. Tucker asked everybody to explain the reason for his or her votes. One by one, they said that Debbie was more natural in her movements. They said that while Crystal was very pretty, she appeared very nervous and didn’t smile enough. They all agreed that if she could get over her shyness, then she would definitely win roles in the future.

When everyone had spoken, Mr. Tucker got on stage, with Debbie and I, and addressed the company. "Fellow thespians, and crew members, Debbie’s role was never in jeopardy. This was just a little experiment to show our new actress here that she could be accepted without difficulty as a possible cast member. Do you all feel that with a little work, she could fit in with our little company?"

Everyone nodded and voiced such comments as, "Of course", "Absolutely", or just "Yes." One of the young male cast members said, "I’d like to have her address and phone number so that I can offer my personal services as acting tutor."

Mr. Tucker continued, "How many of you think that she’s pretty?"

Everyone raised their hand, including Marge, Barbara, and Debbie.

"Well then I’ll let you in on a little secret. Our little actress here has fooled almost all of you."

One of the company said, "Are you telling us that she was only pretending to be nervous. That she was acting."

"No, I’m telling you that she was only acting like a she. This young lady is none other than our very able assistant, Cary. I convinced him to put on this little charade with the help of Marge and Barbara. They all deserve a round of applause."

Everyone just stared at me for a few seconds, a few with their mouths agape. Then they all began to clap, then applaud. Where I had expected ridicule, I received praise. It was all very confusing. Several of the cast members said that now they understood why my voice had seemed so familiar. The assembly broke up as cast members settled down to work. Most of them came to me to congratulate me on such a clever performance. I loved every minute of it, but I wanted to change out of the clothes. Barbara said they she would help me as soon as the other cast members were squared away. She was still working on alterations to the costumes. I couldn’t very well handle any construction activities, dressed as I was, so I worked with several of the actors in practicing their lines. I didn’t get to change until much later in the afternoon as activities for the day, wrapped up. Most of the company had already left when Barbara started to undress me. In this costume, there had been no way that I could do it myself.

When Barbara removed the corset, I felt wonderful. I scratched and rubbed all over my itching torso. Barbara had me sit down so that she could work on removing the breast forms. I was still dressed in the panty girdle, stockings, and bra. When she removed the bra, I felt the breast forms drag my chest skin down again. I looked at them and was amazed to see how much a part of me that they seemed to be. I hadn’t really noticed how lifelike they looked when she was putting them on. Probably because I had been so embarrassed at the time. But now that I had been wearing them all day, I had gotten used to the idea, somewhat. I had even gotten used to the swaying and bobbing as I walked. Barbara applied the solvent to one breast form and waited for the correct amount of time according to the instructions, then lowered her hand to allow the breast form to peel off and fall into her hand. Trouble was, it didn’t fall off. She read the instructions again. Then she tried to peel it off. It felt like she was pulling my skin off. When I screamed, she stopped. Then she read the directions again and applied the solvent to the other breast form. After waiting the correct amount of time, she lowered her hand, but the breast form remained firmly in place.

She said, "Wait here a minute, honey."

Several minutes later she returned with Marge. Together they read over the directions and tried to use the solvent again, but without luck. After a half-hour of trying, they decided that it was no use.

I lost control at that point. I screamed, "I CAN’T GO HOME WITH TITS. You’ve got to do something. How about cutting them off."

Barbara calmly said, "Absolutely not. This pair of breast forms cost the theatre almost a thousand dollars. They are the most realistic that you can buy. We'll have to get ahold of the manufacturer and find out what the problem is. Until then, they stay on. Understand?"

	Drawing by Marina Twelve

"But when are you going to be able to reach the manufacturer? It’s the 4^th of July weekend and everything will be closed until Tuesday. I can’t have woman’s breasts until Tuesday. That’s three days away. My mom has tickets for the fair and fireworks show tomorrow. What will people say if they see a guy walking around with breasts? For that matter, I can’t even walk home like this. What if somebody sees me."

Barbara said, "Well, we can fix it so that nobody notices anything out of the ordinary. Here, put your bra back on. It’ll relieve the pressure on your chest."

After she had put the bra back on me, she had me stand up and put the short slip on. Then she started to put the corset on me again.

"What are you doing?"

"We’re going to disguise you long enough to get you home. Then we’ll work out a plan with your parents to resolve the problem."

"My folks have been divorced since I was a baby. It’s just my mom and my sister at home."

Putting the corset on again was the last thing that I wanted to do. But I could tolerate it until I got home. She laced it down to the same point as she had this morning and measured to make sure that I was at twenty-three inches. I attached the nylons to the hanging garter tabs with great difficulty because of the long fingernails and because I could not bend easily. Putting on a full slip over the corset, Barbara gave me a white blouse to put on. After she had buttoned it up the back, she gave me a black, knee length, pencil skirt to wear. Then she put black, single strap heels on my feet. She told me to walk around and get used to the 3-inch heels while she and Marge got the rest of my outfit together. I had worn 2-inch heels all day, but that was different. These had a narrow little heel and they took a lot of getting used to.

Barbara put some bracelets, a necklace, and a ring on me, and checked my hands and nails. There were no chips or cracks to the nails or polish. Marge handed me a lipstick after showing me how to apply it. She said that I might need to know how, just to continue the illusion in front of somebody else until I could get home undetected. Under her watchful eye, I touched up my lips. Marge put a pair of earrings in my newly pierced ears and gave me some liquid in a small bottle to help prevent infection. After brushing the wig that I still wore, and examining me to make sure that I was ready to leave the theatre, Barbara handed me a black purse to carry. I dropped the lipstick and ear solution inside and saw that she had already put my wallet and other things in there. I also found a compact, tissues, and other sundry items.

With me between them, we walked out and locked the theatre. I was so nervous that I could feel every beat of my heart. We passed people on the street as we walked to Barbara’s car, half a block away, but nobody looked at me strangely. With each person that we passed, my confidence grew a little more. Barbara and Marge had done such a good job on me that everyone appeared to believe me just to be a young woman. We even passed a guy that I knew from school. I couldn’t look at him, but I noticed from the corner of my eye that he gave me the once over. Twice.

Barbara opened the passenger door first and I slid onto the old style bench seats of the vintage station wagon. I reached over and unlocked the driver’s side door for Barbara. When I sat back, I saw that Marge was looking at me as she stood outside the car.

"Crystal," she said, "a young woman never climbs into the car like that. You sit down first, after smoothing your skirt, then swing your legs in like this. And remember to cross your legs when you sit down anywhere except in the car. " She demonstrated the proper way. "You climbed in like a boy. Be careful if you don’t want to be detected."

"Okay, Marge. I’ll be more careful."

Barbara drove us to my house, and the three of us walked to the front door. Barbara said, "Crystal, let me and Marge do the talking until your mother understands the problem, Okay?"

"Okay Barbara." I reached for the doorknob but Barbara stopped me, and rang the doorbell instead.

My sister Carol answered the door and said, "May I help you?"

Barbara said, "Is your mother home, dear?"

"Yes, just a minute please." She turned away from us and said into the house, "Mom, there are three women here to see you."

I suppressed a smirk. In spite of my agitation I found it amusing that my sister didn’t recognize me. My mother came to the door.

"Yes, ladies. May I help you."

"Mrs. Ramsey, I’m Barbara DeMilo. I work with the community theatre group where your son has been helping out. I would like to speak to you about him if you have a few minutes."

"Is he all right?"

"He’s fine. He’s a wonderful child. We all love him down at the theatre."

"Well, please come in and sit down, ladies."

I followed Barbara and Marge into my living room. I smoothed my skirt and sat down, then crossed my legs as they had all done.

Mom said, "Now what would you like to discuss. Has Cary caused a problem?"

Barbara said, "No, quite the opposite. We have caused a problem for him. I’m sorry, this is Marge Stromville, our head makeup artist, and this is….Crystal."

Mom said, "I’m pleased to meet both of you. Now please tell me what you mean when you say that you have caused a problem for Cary."

"Well, it’s like this. Mr. Tucker, the director, challenged Marge and I to get Cary into costume for a little role-playing. Unfortunately, part of the costume got stuck and we have been unable to remove it."

"But you say that he’s all right."

"Oh, absolutely. It just a little embarrassing, no physical injury. We thought it best that we come to see you, and explain that it was not his fault in any way. We convinced him to try the costume on even though he didn’t really want to. He’s a little embarrassed right now about being stuck in it. Since this is a holiday weekend, we won’t be able to reach the manufacturer until Tuesday. The costume is extremely expensive, so he has agreed not to cut it off."

"I'd like to talk with him before I agree to anything such as that. Where is he?"

"We brought him with us."

"Is he outside in your car?"

"No, Mrs. Ramsey. Crystal, would you like to tell Mrs. Ramsey what she wants to know?"

I spoke up. "I’m right here Mom."

She stared at me without saying anything for a minute. Then she said, "Cary, is that really you?"

"Yes. It’s really me, Mom. I’m sorry."

She said, "Ms. DeMilo, is this some kind of a joke. That skirt and blouse are hardly valuable."

"You are correct. The skirt and blouse were just a disguise so that Crystal could come home without attracting undesirable attention. The costume is underneath. Crystal, remove your blouse dear."

I stood up and Marge moved behind me to unbutton the blouse. When it was unbuttoned, I pulled it off of my arms. Marge slid the full slip’s shoulder straps down and pulled the slip to my waist. Then she pulled the straps from the short slip that I wore under the corset down off of my shoulders. Next she unclasped the bra and I took it off. Mom just sat and stared at my chest.

Finally, she spoke. "Cary, my god, you have breasts. They look so real. Can I touch them?"

"Sure, Mom."

She came over and cupped each in turn. "They even feel real. Just a little cool to the touch." She sat back down.

Then she did something that surprised me. She started to laugh. And she laughed uncontrollably. My sister heard the laughter and came to investigate. Carol saw me standing there naked to the waist, and saw Mom laughing.

Carol said, "What’s going on, Mom?" Receiving no answer from Mom who could not stop laughing, she said, "Miss, why are you standing half naked in our house? My brother could come home any minute."

I just stood there and stared at her.

Mom, in between bursts of laughter said, "That’s no Miss, that’s your sister. Don’t you recognize her?"

Carol said, "Mom, what ARE you talking about?"

"She used to be your brother Cary, before she grew breasts." Then she lost herself in laughter again.

Carol walked over to me. "Cary, is that you? How did you grow breasts?"

Barbara said, "That’s what we were trying to explain to your mother. We had a little accident down at the theatre. We were having some fun with your brother. We got him to agree to wear a costume, and dressed him as a girl. When we tried to remove the costume, we found that we couldn't get the breast forms off. The solvent doesn't break down the adhesive. Because the breast forms are incredibly expensive, your brother has promised not to cut them off. We'll contact the manufacturer on Tuesday and get them off without damaging them. We re-dressed him as a girl so that he could travel here without people noticing the obvious.

Then Carol stated to laugh. She sat on the sofa with Mom and together they laughed all the harder. Soon, the infectious nature of laughter swept up Marge and Barbara. I stood in the middle of the room with all of these women laughing at my plight. I wanted to cry.

I picked up my bra and put it on. I struggled but I managed to fasten it behind me. This made them laugh all the harder. Then I raised up my slips and put the straps over my shoulders. I put my blouse on and managed to get about half of the buttons fastened. They all continued to laugh at me as I struggled to get dressed. I tucked the blouse into my skirt and went into the kitchen to sit at the table.

After awhile my mother came into the kitchen and hugged me. She said, "Your friends have left. They said that they would see you at the theatre next week. On Tuesday morning they'll call the company that made your breasts and find out why the solvent didn’t work. We all decided that it would be best that, up until then, you pretend to be Crystal Ramsey, Cary’s twin sister that lives with her father in Dayton. We’ll tell people that Cary is visiting with his father." She stood behind me as she talked and finished buttoning my blouse.

Carol came in and said, "Stand up… Crystal." When I did, she used the tape to take my measurements. She said, "36-23-36, 64 inches in height, I’d say size 7 to a 9. Perfect."

"Perfect for what?", I said.

"We’re almost the same size. I’m a 7. You can share my clothes until next week, when you get your ‘mastectomy’. Of course they’ll be a little tight. I don’t have your obvious ‘charms’ yet."

"I’m not going to wear your clothes. From now on, I’m only going to wear my own clothes."

Mom said, "Crystal, I’m not going to spend a lot of money buying you new clothes for only several days of wear. You will have to share your sister’s things, unless you intend to spend the money that you’ve been saving for that new bike."

"I’m just going to wear my regular clothes until Tuesday."

Mom said, "That’s not possible. You can’t go out looking like a half man and a half woman. Since you can’t be all man, then you will have to be all woman. Now, it’s time to start dinner. Carol, you’re in charge. Show your sister what she can do to help you make dinner. I have a few things to take care of."

Mom got up and left the kitchen. Carol had me stand up so that she could put an apron on me. Then she had me make a salad while she cooked pasta, and heated some of Mom’s homemade spaghetti sauce. Dinner preparation took less than a half-hour. While I set the table, Carol left to call Mom. I finished putting the food on the table just as they came in, and we sat down to eat the meal. I was starving since I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I took my usual amount of pasta, but after eating only about 25%, I was full.

Mom said, "I thought that you were overdoing it, but I figured that you had to learn on your own."

"I guess that I’m not as hungry as I thought."

"It’s the corset. It doesn’t let your stomach expand to hold more food. Get used to it. You have to wear it until Tuesday so that your waist stays at 23 inches, or you won’t be able to fit into your dresses, dear."

"Oh Mom, can’t I just wear jeans?"

"No, Crystal. We'll be having lunch tomorrow in a restaurant where they don’t allow jeans. It’s skirts or dresses only, young lady."

After dinner, Mom said, "Crystal, since your sister cooked, then it’s your job to clean up. Put everything away and clean the table. Rinse the dishes and check for any stuck on food before loading them in the dishwasher. Then wipe down the counters, and sweep the floor. It should only take you about 15 minutes at most. I can do it in 5 if I really hustle, but I realize that you haven’t had much practice up until now."

Carol said, "I’m going to like having a kid sister for the next few days. It’ll be nice to have some help with the house work."

Mom said, "Carol, I want you to help me upstairs. Crystal, when you’re done in here, vacuum the carpet in the living room. We have company coming tomorrow."

"Company? Who?"

"Your Aunt Jessica is coming to stay with us for her vacation."

"Oh. Aunt Jess isn’t company, she’s family."

"Never the less, the house must be cleaned. After you vacuum, dust the tables and bric-a-brac as well. You’ll find cloths and dust spay under the sink. Carol, come with me, we have a lot to do."

"Mom", I said. "Can you take my shoes off? I can’t reach my feet with this corset on."

"You have to get used to wearing high heels, Crystal. I noticed that you're a little wobbly. I think it best that you continue to wear them until it’s time for bed. You’ll be steadier on your feet tomorrow. Okay, children, lets get started on our chores."

Mom and Carol left the room. I put on the apron that I had worn earlier. I put the leftovers in plastic containers and then stored them in the refrigerator. I carried the dishes to the sink and cleaned the table. Then I removed my ring and bracelets and rolled up the sleeves of my blouse. I rinsed off all of the dishes, silverware, and cooking utensils, and after checking for stuck on food, loaded everything in the dishwasher. We only turned on the machine when it was full, so I just closed the door. I washed down the counters and swept the floor. I had a lot of difficulty trying to pick up the small pile of dust and debris after I had swept. The corset prevented me from bending very much, and the long fingernails made picking things up very difficult. I finally figured out how to squat in a way that allowed me to use the dustpan and brush. I rolled my sleeves back down and put on the ring and bracelets, then went into the living room.

I retrieved the vacuum from the hall closet, and spent the next half-hour vacuuming and dusting the living room. After I was done, I walked around to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything, and then returned the vacuum and cleaning supplies to where they belonged. Mom and Carol had come back downstairs as I finished.

Mom said, "Crystal, the living room and kitchen look wonderful. You and Carol have both worked very hard. As a reward, I’m going to take you both out for ice cream."

Carol hurried upstairs to get ready and to get her purse.

I said, "Mom, I’d rather not. You and Carol go. I’ll just stay here and watch TV."

"Crystal, I won’t hear of it. You’re only going to be visiting for a few days. People would talk if you didn’t go out and see the town a little. Now get your purse, and touch up your face."

I went to the downstairs powder room with my purse. I decided to use the toilet before we left. It took 10 minutes just to undress enough to do my business. I had to remove the skirt because it was too tight to get over my hips with the padded girdle in place. Then I had to detach the stockings from the corset. Finally, I had to pull down the panty girdle and my panties. Again, the tight corset and long fingernails restricted my dexterity. When I was finished it took 15 more minutes to re-dress and straighten everything. After washing my hands, I applied fresh lipstick, blotted the excess, and went to the living room.

Mom said, "It’s about time, young lady. We were about to go see if you were all right."

"Sorry, Mom. I’m not used to these clothes or long finger nails."

"That’s all right, dear. I see that you freshened your lipstick, but your face needs a little more work."

Opening her purse, she took out several items and worked on my face. After several minutes, she finished up. Before backing away to examine her handiwork, she did a careful examination of my wig.

"That wig is amazing. Marge used some kind of adhesive to anchor it down and cover the edges, so it doesn’t look like a normal wig that a woman would wear. It looks just like real hair until you examine it. If you want, we can remove it later and style your own hair. Since you wear it so long, you don’t really need a wig. And it would be a lot cooler for July."

"Yeah, thanks Mom. I think that that would be better. Wait. On second thought, maybe people would be able to identify me if they saw my real hair. I don’t want anybody to know it’s me."

"That’s no problem. We’ll alter the color slightly. With that, and the different hairstyle, no one will ever recognize you, Crystal. Okay, it’s getting late. Let’s get going."

We left the house and drove to a local ice cream parlor. I was scared to death of being recognized and was slow getting out of the car.

Mom said, "Come on, Crystal. You look fine. Just keep smiling and you won’t have any problem."

I got out of the car and put a demure smile on my face. I followed Mom and Carol into the ice cream parlor and to a table. I smoothed my skirt as I sat down, and crossed my legs. Remembering the lesson from dinner, I only ordered a small portion of ice cream. While we were waiting, several of Carol’s friends came out from a rear booth to leave. They all knew Cary, but none of them recognized me. Carol identified me as her sister Crystal from Ohio. She told them that in our parent’s divorce, her father was appointed as Crystal’s guardian, while she and Cary stayed with our mother. Her friends welcomed me to town and invited Carol and I to a party tomorrow night. The girl who was hosting the party, Robin Weber, said that there should be a lot of nice guys there for me to meet.

I said, "Thank you, but we have plans for tomorrow."

Mom spoke up and said, "Oh that’s all right Crystal, we’ll be back in plenty of time for you and Carol to go to the party. Maybe you’ll meet someone special while you’re here. Girls, they’d love to come. I’ll drop them off myself."

The girls all said that they would see us tomorrow, and left.

"Mom, why did you do that? I can’t go to a party like this."

"Now, Crystal, your life can’t stop just because of a little accident. You’ll have fun, and you’ll also get a chance to see what it’s like from the other side of the gender gap. Ah, here’s our order."

Carol and Mom talked while I sullenly sat and ate my ice cream. We left after about an hour, after being greeted by a half dozen family friends and acquaintances. A couple of my mother’s friends commented on my close family resemblance, but no one made the connection to Cary.

Arriving home, I went to my room to change and I found a sleepwear set on my bed, but I went to my dresser to get my PJ’s instead. Upon opening the drawer where they were usually stored, I discovered that they were missing. In fact, my top two dresser drawers, where I kept my underwear and socks, were also empty, except for several pairs of panties, stockings, and slips. I went to my closet and saw that most of my shirts and pants were missing. In their place were an assortment of dresses, skirts and blouses. A half dozen pairs of high heels replaced my usual sneakers, loafers, and sandals. I went to my bedroom door and opened it. I was about to yell for my Mom when she and Carol stepped in front of me.

"Mom, what did you do with my stuff?"

"Why nothing Crystal. I put some of Cary’s things away until he returns so that you'll have some room to store the things that Carol is lending you for your stay."

"Mom, why do I have to wear Carol’s clothes when I’m in the house. Can’t I just wear my regular clothes if I agree to wear Carol’s clothes outside of the house."

"Crystal, until the theatre people resolve your problem, you will live as one gender. I will not have you switching back and forth. If any of Carol’s friends come over, I don’t want them to see you wearing Cary’s clothes. You are a young lady, and you will wear only feminine clothes. And, you will share the household duties that Cary is usually excused from. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom. But I’m not happy about it. Uh… Mom?"

"Yes, dear?

"Can you help me get undressed?"

"Your sister will help you. You girls should spend more time together."

Carol came into my room while Mom returned to her bedroom.

Carol said, "Oh Crystal, don’t look so sad. We’ll have fun over the next few days. I’ve often wished that I had a sister."

"Carol, this wasn’t my idea. But I guess that I'm responsible because I allowed them to do it to me. You don’t wear a corset, so you have no idea how uncomfortable it is. My usual waist size is 27 inches. With the corset on, my waist is 23 inches and I can’t sit down comfortably."

"Crystal, you look wonderful. I would love to have breasts like yours. You’re about a C cup aren’t you?"

"Yes. Barbara said that I’m a 36C."

As we were talking, Carol was helping me to undress. After we had removed my blouse, skirt, and slip, I saw that Carol was staring at my breasts.

She said, "Crystal, they look so real. Not at all like what I’d expect. You could wear a low cut that showed your cleavage and nobody would ever guess. Can I touch them?"

"Sure, Carol. Let me take my bra off."

After I had removed the bra, she cupped the breasts and felt the texture and the weight. "They’re wonderful. I wonder how they look compared to mine?" She immediately took off her top and bra. I was astounded. She seemed to have forgotten that I was a male under the plastic and silicon. She pulled me over to the mirror so that we could look at our reflections. She said, "I’m so jealous. Your breasts are bigger and better. And I’m a year and a half older than you."

"I’d love to trade with you. If they were smaller, I could wear an elastic bandage and hide them." I unclipped my nylons and asked Carol to help me to remove the corset.

"Are you sure that you want to do that?"

"Of course. I can’t wait to be out of it. Do you think that I’d want to stay in it?"

"I only meant that if you take it completely off, then you'll have to get used to it all over again tomorrow. If we just loosen it a little then it won’t be so bad tomorrow."

"I don’t know, Carol. You’re probably right. I just don’t know…Okay, just loosen it a little so I can breathe easier and get some sleep tonight."

Carol opened it up about an inch and retied the laces. I breathed a lot easier. It wasn’t so bad now. She helped me to remove the stockings and shoes. It felt like heaven when she massaged my feet. When she left to put on her nightie, I put on the set that Mom had put out for me. After putting on the top, I removed the panty girdle and panties. It felt so wonderful to release my genitals from their prison between my legs. As my extreme discomfort lessened, I became more aware of, and more aroused by, the fabric of the sleep set. I realized that the distress of my situation, and the aches resulting from the corset and the heels had shielded my senses from the sensuous nature of the clothes that I had been wearing. I pulled on the bottom part of the satin sleep set and enjoyed the cool sensation as it traveled up my legs.

In response to a knock at my door, I said, "Come in."

Mom opened the door and said, "Oh, good. You’re changed. Crystal, come on down to the kitchen and we’ll remove your makeup, and that wig. Also, we’ll see what we can do with your hair. Bring your purse. Marge said that she put some things in there that we’ll need.

I picked up my purse and followed Mom to the kitchen, after putting on the fluffy pink slippers that she had left for me. She had me sit down and we discussed makeup and removal. She was surprised by how much I already knew. I explained that Marge had been teaching me about stage makeup. After my face was clear of makeup, Mom began to work on the wig using the removal solution that Marge had left in my purse. In 15 minutes, she had the wig off of me. One more source of discomfort gone. It wasn’t that the wig hurt, but rather that it was so darn hot.

Carol came in as Mom led me to the sink. She had me bend over the sink and she shampooed my hair. Then she lightened my normally golden blond hair color to an almost platinum blond color. When she was done, she patted my hair with a towel to remove excess moisture. Then placing a dry towel around my shoulders, she trimmed my hair to remove any split ends and to style it for a more feminine look. I had worn it very long for years. In fact it was almost as long as Carols, so Mom styled it like hers. When she was done cutting, she put it up in large curlers. She said that they would give it a soft curl. She put a hair net over the whole thing, and sat down to relax.

We discussed the plans for tomorrow. Aunt Jess would be coming early. She lived about 3 hours away and should be there by 11 o’clock. Then we'd go into town for lunch. After that we'd spend the day at the fairgrounds until after the fireworks were over. At 9:30 Mom would drop Carol and myself off at the party that her friend was hosting.

"Mom, I don’t feel comfortable going to that party. Do I have to?"

"Crystal, it will do you good to socialize a little with Carols friends while you are here. The answer is yes. I want you to go."

"Okay, Mom", I said reluctantly.

We talked for a little while longer, then went upstairs. Mom showed me how to wash my stockings and underwear so that they would be clean and fresh tomorrow. We hung them over the bathtub to dry. I was used to seeing Carol’s things there, but this was the first time that I had ever hung anything. I went to bed as soon as she had left. I was exhausted, and was asleep within minutes of lying down.

 

(continued in Chapter 2)

 

 

 

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© 1999 by Crystal Sprite. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.
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