Just a Little Lipstick

Janet L. Stickney
JanetLynn17@Hotmail.com

 

"Christine! Get down here!"

Taking my first step did nothing but make me miserable, yet once my parents heard my footsteps, I couldn't stop; they wouldn't tolerate it, and I didn't want to get smacked again. I walked down the stairs and into the familyroom, not only my skirt, but also my hair, flouncing with every step. I wasn't expecting to see anyone but my parents, but there was a whole group of ladies there!

"Did you forget something?" mom asked. Grabbing the hem of the skirt with each hand, I pulled it out and curtsied, keeping my eyes locked on mom like she told me. "That's much better!"

It was humiliating to stand there in front of all of the women in our family dressed that way, but not one of them seemed the slightest bit concerned. In fact, there were several comments on things they thought could be done a bit better, or could make me more feminine. In any case, they were all talking about my becoming a girl, and how much they all looked forward to it. I stood there silently, almost to the point of tears, only the threat of a more severe punishment making me hold back the tears. I wore a shiny plum colored satin dress trimmed in white lace, the skirt held out with several layers of petticoats. Shiny white socks that went to my knees and white Maryjanes on my feet were nothing compared to the rest. My hair, long and dark brown, had been done in pigtails with ribbons to match the dress, my face was completely made up including lipstick, I wore perfume, had pierced ears and a small gold necklace. The soft brown teddy bear I was holding merely the exclamation point on an already miserable day.

I was allowed to sit down, careful to smooth out my skirt like my mother showed me, listening as my mother told everyone in great detail what my punishment was, how long it would last, then told me directly that I would attend all of the functions all of the other girls in the family attended, then emphasized once again how I would dress. I was a sorry sight, and not at all the rambunctious boy that I was just a few days earlier. When it came time, I was taken to the front door and had to curtsy to each woman as she left, thanking her for listening. When they all left I finally broke down, crying, sobbing really, unable to hold back my frustrations any longer. My mother merely stood there waiting for me to stop, then took me by the hand and led me back to my new room. After wiping my face clean…

"You really shouldn't have done it you know, it was stupid, and ruined an entire years work! Whatever made you think that it was a good idea to do something so stupid?"

"But it wasn't my idea! It was Billy's!"

"You went along with it didn't you? You could have said no at any time, but you ignored all that good sense you have, and now look at you! Do you have any idea just how ridiculous you look?" I hung my head and said nothing. "That's all in the past now honey, and it's only because you're underage that you aren't in jail! As it is, Billy is in jail, which is where he'll likely stay for a few years, and you're going to be wearing a dress for the same length of time! You're very lucky that Mrs. Collins did not insist on it, or you would be in even worse trouble. As it is now, and you heard it from the judge, you will become the epitome of feminine charm and grace, and wear nothing but clothes a girl your age would wear. We made you wear this outfit today to impress on you the gravity of your situation, but I want to remind you once again that any infraction of the judges ruling or any of my rules, and I'll have you back in this kind of dress every day, including at school. Am I making myself clear?"

"Ye….yes."

"You're also lucky that Billy's parents are the ones that have to pay for all of the damages; something like that would ruin us! So! Now that we understand each other, why don't we get you out of those clothes and into something a little less frilly?"

That something else was a navy skirt with a white blouse and black shoes. My hair was taken out of the pigtails and brushed to look more normal, for a girl. When she was done helping me change, she sat on the chair and took each of my hands in her own.

"We know this is going to be hard on you, especially at school, but we don't have any choice, and neither do you, which is why tomorrow we are going out and buy you proper uniforms of the type the girls in your school wear, including leotards and a gym uniform. We have been told by the school that they support the judges decision, and while it will be hard on you, they have told us that they will see to it that you are not harmed in any way, and will see that you are assigned to the proper classes. Now, you may go outside and play, but do not leave the yard."

As if I would leave the yard! I went outside, still afraid to make her mad, and sat on the lone swing wondering how I could have been so stupid! When Billy told me about it, it sounded like a great prank, and I eagerly went along with him, watching as he used the lighter fluid to soak the small stage. His plan was to set it off during the show, just to scare everyone. What happened was that the lighter fluid set the backstage props on fire, which led to the total destruction of not only the props, but the clothes the models were supposed to wear as well, and ruined a good portion of the stage flooring. And that didn't include two broken arms and a bunch of scrapes caused by the models and others running out the back door. The minute I saw the first flames I knew that we were in big trouble, I just didn't know how big. Fortunately, Billy's dad was very rich, and he paid for the damages, under court order of course, but his money did not keep Billy out of jail for arson. He got 6-12 years, maybe five years in jail if he behaved himself. I got to wear a dress because I'm two years younger than he is. I'm 14, not old enough to be charged as an adult, while he had just turned 16 and was fully liable, as an adult.

I was in court when I heard the sentence that Billy got, and my heart sunk to a new low level because I fully expected to get the same treatment. But I was tried separately, in a closed courtroom because of my age, and had to sit there while the details of my crime were laid out for the judge. She didn't say much during the trial, except when I was questioned by my lawyer, the Prosecutor, and herself. Since I had admitted my participation there wasn't any doubt that I was involved, only the level of my help was in question.

"You admit" the judge asked softly, "that you knew about this…prank as you call it, and yet you didn't warn anyone or try and stop it in any way?"

"Yes Ma'am, but…"

"I know, peer pressure and all that. However, you are guilty, you admit that much, so my only job is to determine punishment, something that will impress upon you the gravity of your situation and maybe make you think twice before you embark on another adventure like this one." Looking right at me…"This is your third offense? It says here that you were caught spray painting a statue, then…you once again got in trouble by…peeping? What was that all about?!"

"We…I, well, we…we went in the girls locker room to hide all the towels, but there were some girls in there, and…we didn't know they were there, really! We didn't!"

"We'll take a quick break" the judge said, "while I read all of the proposals for your punishment, then meet again in my office in an hour."

When we were all in her office, she read out loud all of the punishments that I could get. I could be sent to a reform school and serve the same time as Billy, being transferring to the same adult facility when I turned 16, or I could be held in the reform school until I was 25! In either case I would do the same time Billy got. There was obviously another option, which the judge said she was reluctant to voice, but finally did.

"It has been suggested that there could be another option for you, which I am not inclined to order, not yet anyway. A close friend of mine chose this option for her son when he became unruly and constantly in trouble, and it was she that suggested it. Your lawyer and you parents are aware of this option, however we have all agreed that since it falls outside of the normal scope and guidelines of the law and this court, I will not order it unless you yourself agree to it. If you decline, then I will sentence you according to the existing laws. Is that clear?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"It has been suggested that in order to remove you from the influences of your current friends, that you be allowed to undergo what it termed "petticoat punishment". What that means is that if you accept, within one week you will be wearing nothing but girls clothes. You will conduct yourself in a ladylike manner, and attend school as a girl. The terms of this agreement, if you accept it, will be that you serve your sentence as a girl full time, with the same sentence length as your friend Billy. If you have any questions at all, now is the time to ask them."

I was so stunned that I couldn't speak! Then my father nudged me, and whispered in my ear.

"I don't like it either" he said, "and as outlandish as it sounds, it's probably going to be better than being in a prison or even a reform school, so you might want to think about accepting the offer." I looked at dad, who drew me closer and whispered in my ear again. "At least you'll be free, think about that before you say a word, understand?"

I did understand. Life as I knew it was about to end one way or another, the only question was how? I didn't want to go to jail, not even a reform school, not after what I had heard about those places, which left only one way out. I looked at my mother who sat there stoically grim faced and positively angry.

"What it really means" the judge intoned, "is that you will graduate from high school and probably start college before you serve the minimum sentence, which is 6 years, possibly 5" the judge said, "but after a few months as a girl, I'm sure that life will become easier on you as you adjust to how girls behave. Will you accept this offer, or shall I send you to jail?"

I hated it. I was repulsed by the very idea that I would have to wear dresses, and just knew that I would be the laughing stock of anyone that saw me, but the thought of going to jail was worse, so I hung my head and said one word. "Yes". Twenty minutes later when I received my punishment, the principal of another school I was told, was in the room as well as our lawyer, my parents, the judge and me. That's when I first heard what was going to happen to me in any detail. Then, the principal told me that she would expect me to participate in all of the functions the girls did, including ballet classes and gym as well as home economics. She said she would make sure that I could shower alone, but other than that, I would be treated just like the rest of the girls. I had no idea who she was or what she was talking about, but looking over, I could see my dad sitting there silently as mom told me the finer details, including how I would dress at all times. Then mom added that the very first thing she was going to do was get my hair set in a perm to make it easier for me to take care of! I listened to it all with a sinking heart, because I knew, since the judge had just told me, that I would graduate from school and start college before the end of the 5 year minimum, and that's only if Billy minded himself! If he screwed up, I could be dressing as a girl until I was 26, and that was the courts order, not my parents, and turning 21 wouldn't change the courts order! I left the courtroom wondering if jail might not have been better. I didn't want to become a stupid girl, and couldn't see how they could make me into one!

That night I was subjected to the most rigorous scrubbing I ever got, and every inch of my body was checked for hair, which was removed quickly and painfully with either tweezers or wax, leaving me sore but hairless from the eyebrows down, even in my groin. Then I had to stand there in that silly dress and let the ladies of our family critique how I looked, as if I were some kind of doll they were playing with. As bad as all that was, there wasn't any doubt in my mind that very worst was going to be when I stepped into the school dressed as a girl. They had promised me I would not be hurt, but I knew that the other kids would find out, and virtually shun me, leaving me to myself to take the taunts alone, becoming an outcast whether the principal liked it or not. I was ready to kill myself rather than face it, because the next two and a half years of high school were definitely not going to be a fun time for me.

My father, as much as he hated the idea of me in skirts, liked it better than the idea that I could be in jail, and it was only with his approval that this all happened. I knew that he was boxed into a corner when he agreed, but when he did, he made it extremely clear to me that there would be no relaxation in my punishment, telling me that I might as well get used to the idea that from that moment on I would be dressing as a girl, whether any of us liked it or not, including him. When he asked me, right there in that room, with everyone listening, what name I wanted to be called by. I was immediately at a loss, but none of them pushed it, the judge telling me I had until school started to pick a girls name or she would pick one for me. I quickly decided on the name Cathy, a common enough name that hopefully, wouldn't draw a lot of attention to my plight. That night at the dinner table I told my parents the name I chose but didn't tell them why I selected it.

The next day mom once again helped me get dressed, but before that, she sat me down then asked me a very good question.

"As bad as you think this is going to be, we might be able to make it easier on you, if you want us to that is."

"How?"

"By getting you a pair of breast forms. They have some new ones out now that glue to the chest and look perfectly real as far as I can tell. Going to school dressed as a girl is going to be very hard on you, probably all of us, but being a flat chested 14 year old is certainly not going to make it any easier on you, that much I'm sure of, which is why I'm asking you. If you say no, well, you'll go just as you are." I didn't say anything for a moment, then, "If you look enough like a girl, maybe the other girls will forget after a while, then going to school in a dress won't be so bad!" Anything that was going to make my time as a girl easier seemed to be a good idea, so I grudgingly nodded my head yes. "There is one other thing, but you don't have a choice honey. The school has asked me to make sure that you can't get…excited, being around the girls like you will be, so I have to fix it so that can't happen."

"How? I mean…excited?"

"I mean when your…when you…becomes erect. Girls don't do that, and dressing as a girl and taking classes like gym and ballet requires a certain kind of uniform, like a leotard. Having a bulge where there shouldn't be one will only remind the other girls just who and what you are, which is why I said that I could fix that. Our doctor said that he knows how to do it, so what I want to do is take you to the doctors and let him fix you up."

"He…he isn't going to…cut it off!?"

"No dear, you'll still be a boy, you just won't look like one that's all. When this is all over you can return to being a boy if you want to."

"No doubt about that mom! The first chance I get I'll be out of these stupid clothes as fast as I can!"

"The principal of the school you'll be attending has given me a list of things that you need, so why don't we make a day of it? We'll see the doctor, then we'll visit my salon and get your hair styled before we have a little shopping trip to get you what you'll need."

"I don't want a perm mother! Please, not that!"

"Honey" mom said taking my hands in hers, "making you dress like a girl is a punishment that you agreed to, and while it's better than being in jail, our goal is not to be cruel, only to make it easier for you to fit in with the other girls. This is not what we wanted for you, but it's done, isn't it? And since none of us have a choice, why not do everything we can for you? If the other girls don't know, they cannot hurt you, can they? When we get to the salon, if the stylist says that you don't need a perm, that's fine with me. Okay?"

I didn't like it, any of it, but I didn't have a choice, so I hung my head as mom handed me a purse, took my hand, and we left the house. At the doctors office it was as if he were expecting me because I was whisked into a small room, told to undress, then lay down on the table. He put my legs in what looked like stirrups that he raised, spreading my legs wide before he gave me a shot to make me numb. I didn't feel a thing as he worked in silence, not telling me what he was doing. It took about an hour, then I saw his hand as he slapped me pretty hard down there. When I didn't flinch, he told me to get dressed and left the room. I felt myself and almost cried. Where I once had a proud but small signal of my manhood, I felt a thin gash that I could only open a little. I slipped on the panties, which I saw fit a bit better, then got dressed all by myself. I wore a bra although I didn't have anything but a rolled up sock in each cup, something mom had told me she was also going to change, which at that point, seemed like a done deal anyway.

Our second stop was to get me fitted with breast forms, an A cup the lady told me. After she attached them and I looked in the mirror, I saw for myself just how realistic they looked, and worse, how they made me look. Mom had to help me get the bra on since I wasn't used to having boobs, then we went to her salon where, as promised, I didn't have to get a perm, but my hair was cut in a style that surprisingly made me look more like a girl than I expected! When another lady did my makeup, well, it was over. I could see for myself that I looked like a girl, whether I wanted to or not! Mom paid the bill and we left for a specialty shop where she started buying me the clothes she said were required at the new school.

"The rules say that your skirts can be no higher on your leg than one hand width above the knee, so let me measure you for fit."

Green, navy, and white, the skirts came pleated, wrap around or straight, the sweaters vee neck. Green or navy slacks and jackets, white blouses with navy or green ties and black shoes. Mom bought several of each except for the slacks, telling me that I had to get used to wearing a skirt before I could move up to slacks. I had to wear a short skirt with a blouse, navy sweater and tie when we left the shop. I felt more naked in that short skirt than before, the unfamiliar sense of the fresh air was hitting my legs so new that it made me feel uneasy. From there we went to a dance shop and picked up three different leotards, one black, one pink, and one white, plus a tight white gym suit of the type required. Shoes were next, two different pairs of flats in black, a pair of black heels and some gym shoes, all before we started back home. Already having seen myself the way I was dressed, complete with makeup and hair, I was feeling a bit better about my having to dress as a girl, but I still felt very silly and totally awkward. When we had taken everything to my room, mom gave me the handbook for the school I would be attending. That's when I realized that it was more than just an all girls school!

Visions of seeing a bunch of naked girls had evaporated when I looked in the mirror. I was one of them. A girl, complete with boobs…without any manhood. I sat on the bed and looked at the pictures of girls playing soccer, walking in the hallways, sitting in class, then all dressed up in fancy dresses, with guys standing nearby, at some kind of dance or special event. Pictures of girls practicing ballet, swimming and so on filled the booklet, but there were also captioned pictures of girls learning how to walk, sit, and act, "properly" the booklet said, "So that our girls will fit well into any social situation". My heart quickly filled my throat as I realized that in just two more days I would also be attending that school. It was going to be worse than I had imagined, a lot worse. Mom had been chiding me since I put on that first frilly dress about how I sat, assuming the standard pose for a boy with my legs spread wide. That, and how I walked and talked, all bore down on me, and I wondered how anyone thought I could pull it off, or if they even cared! My punishment was to dress like a girl, not necessarily get away with it, which meant that if I wanted to have any chance of doing this without becoming an object of derision and be completely humiliated, or even beaten to a pulp, it would be up to me to become more like a girl than most girls were. That thought hit me like a thunderbolt, because I would have to give up everything I knew, and learn to be a giggly school girl worried about how I looked, what I wore, and worse, boys.

I wasn't ready to accept the fact that boys might see me as a girl, and didn't want to even think about that, yet I knew from watching the girls in my old school that everyone of them wanted boys to notice them. I thought that I could probably manage to walk, talk, and maybe even act like a girl, but I was drawing the line at boys. I wasn't interested, and that was the end of that as far as I was concerned! Having come to the conclusion that mom was probably right, about becoming more like a girl, I tried sitting in my chair with my knees together, surprised when it didn't hurt like before, but I knew why right away. There wasn't anything there to hurt anymore. Then I thought about how I was going to let my parents know what I had decided to do. It was so easy that I was surprised. I went in moms room and took a bottle of her fingernail polish and an emery board, returning to my room. By the time dinner was ready I had filed my nails so that they were a lot less stubby and painted them with the soft reddish color. I put everything back, and when my nails were dry, I went to the kitchen. I know that mom noticed my nails, but she didn't say anything, and it wasn't until my dad came home and saw all of the changes I had undergone in just one day that either of them commented on how I looked.

"You look…very nice…". Dad sounded very confused.

"She'll be fine" mom said. "As you can see we had a fun day making sure that she could do this without being humiliated by the other girls."

"I can see that."

Dad quit talking about my predicament, even when he saw how short my skirt was, and for the next two days mom and I went to see both of my Aunts and my grandmother so they could see how I looked. None of them teased me like they had before, and my cousin Beverly was so shocked at the way I looked that she kept quiet about it. On the night before I was to appear in school as a girl, mom introduced me to bubblebath. She prepared the tub, then stood waiting for me to get in. When I didn't take the robe off, she cocked her head to one side.

"And just what do you think you have that I don't? Now take the robe off and get in the tub honey, there's a few things that I'll have to explain to you."

What I got was a very intimate and embarrassing explanation about personal hygiene, and why it was so important for girls, even a girl like me. Then mom went on to hand me a razor, telling me that she expected me to remain as hairless as possible, and for those places I couldn't reach, she would help me. Stressing that I would be attending an all girls school where nobody knew me, it was important that I be careful about the way I maintained myself, another major effort so that I wouldn't be found out. She watched as I used the razor on my legs, taking off the barest stubble, since we had gone through this just a few days earlier. When I was out of the tub and dried off, mom had me stand there naked while she used a tube of something on my chest.

"I noticed the seams where the breast forms touched your chest, so I went back and got this."

When mom was done those breast forms looked perfectly real, as if I had grown them myself! I slipped on the nightgown and went to bed, my last glimpse of my room centered on the clothes that I was going to wear the next day. When I got up, I had to use the bath, sitting down like a girl does, still not used to it. I put on my panties, then, using all of my will power to overcome my reluctance to dress as a girl, I stood at the mirror to test my skills at makeup, doing it just like mom told me. Foundation and powder, blusher, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. Then I went in my room and slipped on the front hook bra, settling my boobs in place before I pulled on the padded pantybrief and pantyhose. Then the blouse and skirt, shoes, and sweater. My hair was a mess and I had no idea how to do it, but I took the brush in hand and tried it anyway, surprised when my hair almost fell into place.

I didn't want to become a girl of course, but I was at least smart enough to figure out that wearing a dress just had to be better than living in a 6 X 9 gray room for the next few years, which is another reason I tried doing my nails. When I saw my naked body that morning, my breasts poking out, complimenting my very unmanly groin, I quickly covered myself. I might have to endure it, but I wasn't going to look at it any more than I had to. My parents had told me that I could go back to the public school I was in if I wanted to, but they had made the arrangements for me to attend an all girls school, and wanted me to at least try it. I had a leotard, my gym shoes and school stuff like pencils in a small backpack when mom drove me to the school. I didn't want to go in, and almost threw up when I thought about it, but mom motioned for me to follow her, and I soon found myself inside, looking down a long locker lined hallway filled with nothing but girls, all dressed like I was. With a small tug I was taken into the office where I saw the principal again.

Standing in front of her desk…"My name is Carolyn Ermantopz. I run this school and make all decisions regarding our students. Please sit down." Once mom and I were seated…"The judge mentioned another young man that had to go through the same punishment that you are, and while I know that you are scared and worried, I would like to have you meet that young man." She rang a buzzer on her desk, and in walked a girl that was so pretty that it I didn't believe it was a guy! "This is Diane. She attended our school for two years, then went on to college. Diane, this is Cathy, our newest student."

Ms. Ermantopz nodded at mom, then they left me alone with Diane.

"It's tough isn't it?" Damn! She even sounded like a girl! ""Being here all dressed up like this. It makes you feel stupid, and you're sure that the other girls will figure it out pretty quickly, and your life will become worse than miserable." Taking my chin in her hand, "How am I doing so far?" I said nothing as she let go and sat across from me. "When I came here I was 15, almost 16, and believe me, the other girls had every advantage. They had already developed breasts and hips, so they knew how to cope with having their breasts in the way all of the time. I didn't know any of that, but I had to learn very quickly or be exposed for what I was. But, you know what? After a few months, it became normal to wear skirts and dresses, have boobs, then have to do makeup and hair every morning. But you, you're only 14! Do you know what that means? It means that every girl in your class is also learning to cope with having breasts, learning how to be a woman, just like you!"

"But I don't want to be a…I'm a boy!"

"Yes, that's true, you are a boy, but from personal experience, I'm telling you that if you hold on to that thought as tightly as you are right now, you'll be found out. In order to survive this, and you can trust me because I also went through it, the only way to make the best of it is to grasp your own feminine side and make it your own. Become the girl you look like, and forget the past. That past will only ruin you if you don't let it go."

"Yeah, well, if your so right about all this, how come you're…you look so…"

"Because I wanted to. After two years as a girl, I was so used to it that I couldn't imagine myself as a guy, so I decided to remain a girl."

"But…"

"Think about it for a moment Cathy. I was dressing as a girl every day, and it became normal for my family to begin to think of me as a girl. Every family function I went to I was dressed as a girl. Every vacation, including the beach, I was dressed as a girl. All of my new friends thought I was a girl. How long do you think it took everyone in the family, and my friends to think of me as a girl? For example, my own father, who knew that I was his son, refused to help me do the smallest thing, like zipping up my dress! He thought of me as a girl, and thought it was improper! Then right here at the school, at Christmas, they have a huge dance where they invite the boys from their associated school, and let you mingle and dance with them. That also happens at the end of each year. After attending those dances five times, how could I ask a girl out when all I learned was how to dance as a girl? Or wear a suit when I found myself wanting to wear a ball gown? I know it sounds strange, but when I graduated, I didn't want to be a guy any more."

"But you can quit? Right? Any time you want?"

"Well, no, not now, but that was my choice, not anyone else's. I have become a girl Cathy, a real girl."

"You mean that you…let them cut it off!?"

"Cathy, I am engaged to get married! He expects to have a female bride, so yes, I had the surgery."

"Not me! I'm not going to let them do that to me!"

"That's fine! Nobody says that you have to do that! It's only an option. Tell me, how long do you have?"

"Until I'm in college, maybe until I'm 26, if Billy screws up."

"Twelve years. That's a long time to be a girl, then give it up; your only 14 right now, which means that you will have been a girl for almost as long as you were a boy!"

Diane and I talked for almost another hour, about how girls act, what to expect in gym and those other classes I had to take. She assured me that every girl there was very aware of their own bodies, and being so self absorbed about it, they wouldn't be worried about mine. She told me to just do my best at whatever what they told me to do and I would be fine. Diane was beautiful, so I figured that she always was, which is why she got along so well. Then she showed me some pictures of her when she first got there. She looked like a boy in a dress! Laughing, she told me that she only began to look like a girl when she mastered the art of makeup and hair, and finally accepted the fact that she was going to be dressing as a girl for the next three years! Acceptance was the key word, and she stressed that many times. We both knew that I didn't really have a choice about my predicament, which is why she stressed accepting it so much. When I stood up, she hugged me, then told me to always do my best, and be a lady when I did.

Mom was gone when I walked out of the office. Ms. Ermantopz walked me to my first class, which was advanced English, my best subject. Everyone looked me over of course, but after that, zip, until we went to our next class. Some of the girls ignored me, others seemed friendly, but none of them questioned whether I was a girl or not, which I took as a good sign. Math was next, then History, all before lunch. I tried to keep to myself, but two other girls sat down with me, telling me that they were also new that week. The older one was Beth, the other girl, Ellen, was exactly my age, and we found out that our birthdays were just a few days apart! After lunch I had a class called "Poise for the modern woman", which meant that we walked around with the teacher watching us and making remarks about how we looked. Me? I wasn't limber enough. No kidding! I was scared! My last two classes of the day were gym, which was just a game of volleyball, which was easy enough. Changing with all of the other girls around me was the worst, though just like Diane told me, everyone was turning this way and that, so I was able to change in relative privacy. After gym we had Aerobics, and I spent an hour jumping, stepping, waving my arms, and so on. By the time the class was over my chest hurt from having my boobs bouncing up and down so much, but that was nothing compared to having to take a shower.

Ms. Ermantopz said that I could shower alone, but she wasn't there, and as I watched, several girls walked right past me, naked as the day they were born, headed for the showers. Normally I would have been at full staff, ready to "take a maiden", but since I was also a maiden, and didn't have the ability anyway, nada. I waited until I thought the shower was empty, then went in and washed up as quickly as possible. Just as I was done, Beth came in. Standing there naked like that, I expected her to notice that I had breast forms, but she didn't, and stepped under another shower. When I was dressed I went out front to see my mom standing there with Ms. Ermantopz. I got in the car and we went home, and for the first time I felt like it might just be possible for me to become enough of a girl to get by. I mean, Beth had seen me naked, and she didn't say anything, and that meant that I looked like a girl, at least to her. At home, mom told me to change if I wanted to, but it wasn't worth the effort, so I flopped down and watched some television.

After dinner, while mom and I were doing the dishes, I mentioned the pain in my chest, and she told me she would get me a sports bra to wear, telling me that it would hold me in better, but that I would have to get used to having bouncing boobs, just like every girl did. She didn't sound overly concerned about it, which sort of pissed me off. I mean, what if the glue gave way? That wouldn't be a good thing for sure!

As the days became weeks, my talent for doing my own makeup and hair grew to the point that I never needed any help at all, and wearing a skirt became normal. I made a few friends and did well enough in school, and of course, the class on poise had its effect on me. Not realizing it, I had started to walk and act differently, which my mother casually commented on once or twice. My father, who still did not like the idea of me dressing as a girl, had started, just like Diane had told me he would, to treat me like one. My hair got longer and I still had to be waxed once a month, but my parents generally left me alone to learn what I needed to get by. It wasn't until Christmas, when I was told that I would be expected to attend the huge holiday dance that I had my first experience at buying a party dress. A veteran shopper, mom took me looking for a dress, but first, she had me fitted with a corselet to make my waist smaller while enhancing my hips and bustline. She said that I still had a boys body shape, and that wouldn't do at all. I wore it out of the store so I could get a dress that fit correctly. By the time we left the mall I had a lilac colored dress with shoes and a handbag to match with complimenting jewelry.

I had my hair, makeup, and nails done, and when we got home, mom helped me get dressed. I had always told myself that I was not interested in boys, not like girls are anyway, but as I stood there looking at what I had become, I realized why so many of the girls at school looked forward to these events. They had the chance to look not only prettier than usual, but be more adult like, and show off to their friends and maybe even the boys. I no longer looked like the old me in any way, because I had become a girl, and to look at me in that dress, I knew it. What was worse though, was that I actually felt proud of the way I looked! I had a modest 34-24-34 figure, which was equal to that of most of the girls in my class. Unable to hide my joy at the way I looked, I pirouetted in front of the mirror, then put on some lipstick and walked out of my bedroom with mom right behind me, a smile still on my face. Dad's reaction when he saw me was one of stunned silence. The dress was knee length with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline covered with a sheer lace the circled my neck. Wearing the three inch heels made me almost 5'9" tall, and made my legs look terrific. Mom took a few pictures, then they drove me to the hall where the dance was being held. Mom had let me use her white fur coat, so I was moderately warm as I walked into the hall.

Once my name was checked off the list, I found my way to a table, sitting with Beth, Ellen, Janice, and another girl I didn't know named Gretchen. Everyone looked real nice, and while I still wasn't interested in the boys, they were, so I feigned interest as well, just to fit in of course. The music started, and a few couples started to dance, but Gretchen and I sat there for almost half an hour before we saw two boys headed our way. I felt that familiar lump in my throat as one of them asked me to dance, and it took all of my will power to say yes then let him take my hand. I knew how to dance like a girl, it was part of our Poise class, so I was able to let him lead me around the dance floor without getting stepped on. Like me, he was only 14, and just as awkward around girls as I felt around him, but we managed. He seemed scared, just like me, and we parted after two dances, but one thing stuck in my mind. The way he looked at me. It made me feel…wanted? But I was sure that it was just my imagination. Later another boy asked me to dance, and we did, one dance, then he left me at the table. As much as I didn't have any interest in boys, it began to make me wonder if they knew I wasn't a girl!

"Hello again." Turning I saw it was the first boy to ask me to dance. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure."

"I was wondering" he said shyly, 'if you might consider letting me….ah…want to go to a show sometime?"

He was asking me out! On a date! "I have to ask my parents, but…"

"Well, can I call you? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I guess, but…"

"That's great! Here, write your number on this."

As soon as I did, he grinned, got up, and ran across the dance floor to stand with his friends! In my turmoil I had given my number to a boy who was going to call me, to see if I could go on a date! I immediately regretted what I had done, since I was knew that I didn't like boys! About midnight my mom picked me up, and on the way home I told her what had happened. She didn't say much until we were in my bedroom and she was helping me get the dress off.

"Girls your age do not date solo honey, so we can't let you go with your young man, however, if he wants to come here…"

"He's not "my young man" mother! He just wanted to go to the show!"

"Tell me" mom asked, "has something changed? I mean, all along you have said that you're not interested in boys in any way, so…"

"I'm not interested in boys! I'm not!"

"But you did give him your phone number didn't you? What should I think about that?"

"I was being polite, that's all."

"I see. Well, we can talk about this more tomorrow. Wash your face and get into bed."

As I lay there I wondered what the hell was happening to me! I knew that I wasn't interested in boys, so why had I given out my phone number, then remotely hinted that I would be interested in a date? The next morning when I got up, I got dressed and went to breakfast. As I sat down, mom casually mentioned that a boy had asked me out, which caused my father to choke on his coffee. Mom managed to calm him down when she pointed out that I had been dressing as a girl for almost four months, then asked him to take a good look at me. He did, then mom asked him if he really thought that I would never date, go to parties or anything like that. I hadn't even thought of that! Then I realized that what Diane had told me was coming true. I was not only dressing as a girl, I was becoming a girl! I ran to my room, slammed the door, and sat on the bed wondering if it was true. I just couldn't see myself being with a boy, yet I remembered how I felt when Greg finally asked me to dance the night before. Just like everyone else I knew, I didn't want to be a wall hugger! I wanted to be noticed, even if it was some boy to asking me to dance! I wanted to be just like all the others, even if they were girls! I saw the door to my room open, then mom walked in, shutting it behind her.

"It's not turning out like you planned, is it?"

"I'm not like that mom! I'm…I'm…"

Sitting down next to me…"Cathy, what you are is a teenager, and teenagers don't like to be left out! I know that you said that you don't like dressing as a girl, and while none of us have a choice in the matter, you seem to have adapted quite well to it. Think about it for a moment. Think about the way you look every day when you get ready for school. Think about how you looked last night. Then tell me why young men should not be attracted to you." I had no answer for her, at least none that made any sense. "You have started to act like a girl in ways that you don't realize honey, things like never coming down to eat without being completely covered up. You sit on the couch with your feet tucked under you, like girls do. You walk like a girl, you're using phrases that girls use, in a girls voice, and you are treating your father like a girl would. So why are you so surprised that boys find you attractive? Then of course there are the little things, like the only difference between you and all of the other girls are your breasts. Theirs are real and yours are not, and so far, luckily, nobody has noticed, not even when you change clothes with them!" Mom took my hands in hers, then hugged me. "Everything that has happened to you has happened in the last four months, and you have almost five more years to go! What do you think will happen by then? Even if you wanted to, do you think you could go back to being a boy again?"

I said nothing of course, because she was right, and like Diane told me I would, I knew it. "We told you when this all started that we would see to it that you would have everything you needed, but we also told you that we would not interfere any more than necessary; I'm wondering if we have reached the point where you might need more help."

"Like what? I mean, I already look like a girl!"

"That's true, you do look like a girl. What I was getting at, and this will be your decision, is that we can make it possible for you to have your own breasts and not have to wear a padded brief."

"Boobs? You want me to get real boobs!?"

"That's not what I said and you know it! I said that if, or maybe when, you decide that being more like a girl than you already are is required, then we can make that happen!" I was shocked of course, but…"How painful is it" mom asked, "when we go have the forms removed for cleaning?"

"It hurts like hell!"

"And how does not having them make you feel? Naked?"

"Yeah, a little I guess, but…"

"So having your own breasts might help?"

Without waiting for an answer, she told me to finish getting dressed. First I undressed and looked at myself. My skin was just as hairless, my breasts, while small, were perfectly formed for my size, and while my waist wasn't as thin as most of the girls, all that Aerobics had cause me to lose almost twenty pounds, most of it around my waist, arms and shoulders. Then, because of what I had seen in the shower room, I kept my groin shaved to a narrow strip of hair. Combined with everything else, I had to face the fact that Diane was right. I was going to become a girl. In fact, I was already changing into one according to mom. I did my hair and makeup, slipped on a skirt and top, then left my room. I rarely left the house except for school, since all of the neighbors knew me as a boy, but after talking to mom, that seemed sillier than ever, so I got my bike and headed out for a ride.

I had to get away from everything for a while and think about what mom had said. Having my own breasts would make my life easier, that was for sure, but as I thought about it I kept grasping at the idea that I would, or could, become a guy again. Then reality set in. After only four months as a girl I was turning into one, and after a few more years of being a girl, I probably wouldn't know how to be a guy! I was riding aimlessly, but soon found myself outside my old hangout. Inside, I could see some of my old friends just hanging out. One or two looked up and saw me staring at them and waved at me! No recognition at all, which was good in lots of ways. As I rode off, I realized that I didn't miss any of them; I knew by then that they were all losers. As I made my way home I began to think about having breasts of my own and what it would mean. No more painful removals, that's for sure, plus I would not have to be so shy at school. I would look like a girl in every way, no doubt about that! I wondered what dad would say if I said that I wanted to have everything mom offered me.

I said nothing about it until just before Christmas, drawing mom into my room for another private chat. When I asked her, she explained that there were two ways that I could get breasts. Implants and hormones.

"Implants are certainly quicker" mom said, "but that requires surgery. Taking hormones will give you everything you want, but will take longer. In fact, even if you started taking them right now, I doubt that you would see any changes before spring at the earliest, but if your asking me, I would say take the hormones since you can get by with what you have until you develop, and once you do develop, you'll be all natural, not just some water filled sack behind an ugly scar."

"Can you get them for me mom?"

"You know what this means don't you? Once you develop a feminine body, you can't ever be a boy again."

"Yeah, you told me that before, but what choice do I have? I'm turning into a girl anyway, so why not go all the way and get it over with?"

"Because, if you're not sure, if you're only doing this because you're angry, then you'll always blame us for it, and I'm not going to let you do that! You have to convince me that taking hormones to become a girl is what you really want, not just something to do because you feel you have no choice! You have all of the choices! You could turn yourself in and go to reform school, or you could stay the way you are until you are free of the courts order, or you could actually become a girl! We will not make any of those choices for you honey, that's up to you, so don't try and tell us you have no choices!"

"But…"

"But my ass Cathy! If you feel as if you're turning into a girl anyway, and you hate it that much, you can quit! It's that simple! If you decide to take the pills, then I'm telling you right now that it's more than a "what the hell" decision! Becoming a girl by taking hormones will affect the rest of your life! If you become a girl, then some day you'll become a woman, and nothing will return you to being a boy. Now, tell me the reason for all these questions."

"I…I…I think that I'm starting to like being a girl! But I'm not like the other girls mom! I only look like one, but what good is that? What if…what if I decide to…what if you do let me date? What'll happen when he…what if I…"

The tears started, and I couldn't stop them. In a very few months I had come to like being a girl so much that I wanted to be one! But that meant that I would have to give up everything I knew about being a boy, and embrace being a girl in every way. I had struggled to admit that, even to myself, but I had known the truth when we picked out my dress for the dance. My mom held me in her arms until I quit sobbing, letting the grief of admitting my new feelings subside before she said anything.

"I think maybe we should get you started on the hormones, don't you?"

I did not disagree, and started taking the small purple pills within a few days. Every day I would check for some growth, some sign that I wasn't going to be flat chested forever, but other than some soreness, zip! That boy Greg did come over on a Sunday afternoon, and we spent some time playing games on the computer, but with my parents hanging around all of the time, nothing happened, until his mom showed up to take him home. He gave me that smile of his, squeezed my hand, then kissed me on the cheek before he left for home. After that, I simply quit thinking about being a boy again, which made my life suddenly easier. I wasn't fighting my parents so much, especially my mom, when she wanted me to wear those frilly dresses. I still hated them, and would only try them on, but that was enough for her I guess.

In time I did develop breasts of my own, along with hips, a bigger bottom, smooth skin, and better, I never developed much of a beard. By the time the school year was over, I was virtually a girl in every way, but didn't think about that any more. Before the start of the next school year, our lawyer, my parents and myself all appeared in front of the same judge that had given me the choice. Since we were there to try and have my sentence removed, mom and I knew that she had to know just how much of a girl I had become, which is why I wore that particular outfit. It looked like a jumper but wasn't; it was skirt with shoulder straps. I wore the thin blouse mom gave me, the one that showed almost everything, low heels, with my hair done like I wore it every day. I had become a girl in every way possible, except one, which the judge realized almost at once, and with her signature, my record was cleared, and I was free to get on with my life. I might have been able to return to being a boy, but I didn't want to do that. I liked being a girl. I liked the attention, the clothes, and the makeup. I guess you might say that to change a wild and foolish boy, all it took was just a little lipstick.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Janet Stickney. 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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