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Mike Was Right

by Tytus

  

The door smashed against the wall, as Patrick burst into our dormitory. He passed me by without a word, and slammed his room's door shut in his wake. He was furious.

I stared on the closed door for a few seconds; and then went back to my homework.

I am Steven Arther, a boy of 17 years of age, attending a boy's only boarding school, and I am in my final class. I live in a modern dormitory, with small three piece apartments for two. Patrick Richard lives with me. He is in the class one year behind me. We became quite good friends after several years of living together.

But, never have I seen him in such a rage as he was on that day!

Half an hour later, Patrick knocked on my door, and stuck his head into the room. I looked up from my books.

"May I talk to you?" he asked hesitantly.

I made a gesture, inviting him to sit down in one of the armchairs I got from a second hand shop. He seemed to be seriously troubled by something. I made my self comfortable in my chair opposite of him.

"You know our class had been charged with putting on a play for the parents." he started slowly, his hands gesturing nervously. "Miss Garner, our form mistress, found one but she had one problem. There was a female character to be played and, she picked me to play the part! The rest of the class seemed to be well pleased with the idea. Now, I don't know what to do. Am I a fag, or what?"

While talking, he rose to his feet, and ran to and fro across the room.

All the school knew Miss Garner. She was a thoroughly convinced feminist, who thought of our school only as a battlefield. And, at the age of forty, she was still single. We all knew once she took an idea into her head, there was no power in the world to change her mind.

"I feel very sorry for you. Really! But, you know far better than I, that there is no way out. I don't think she cares one bit if you are, or will be a faggot, nor what ever you are. And the others are just happy not to be in your shoes!"

Patrick did not seem to be delighted with my answer. He nodded his head and turned to leave my room.

"You may try to talk to Mr. Peters, our headmaster, or ask your mother to talk to him." I came up with, as a suggestion.

"Garner already got the approval from my mother. I guess I have to try the headmaster." he replied, with a sound of resignation in his voice as he left my room.

I really felt sorry for this guy. We both knew he would have to face his destiny of playing a girl's part in a play.

On the other hand, I could easily imagine Patrick in a dress! With his 1m 68 (5'5") and 53 kg (117 lb.) he was the shortest and lightest in weight in his class. Nor was his body as hairy as those of other boys. His face had fine, delicate features, a small nose, big, round dark eyes, with long lashes, and long, thin eyebrows. He also had longish hair.

At least Miss Garner had made the best choice for her character.

I could not otherwise but grin inwardly.

Weeks went by.

Patrick was upset each time he came back from his rehearsals. And almost always, he informed me of the play's progress. Almost every time there was some problem with Mike, a bully from Patrick's class, who was always on search for trouble.

Patrick newer got along with him before; but now, he obviously has chosen the poor boy as his main victim. He teased Patrick everywhere he could: in class, at lunch, in free time. Nor did he stop at their rehearsals, although there he avoided Miss Garner.

Finally, Miss Garner decided to take Mike out of the play so that he does not spoil it.

"We had a big fight with Garner today." Patrick reported to me one evening. "She wanted me being kissed on my lips at the end of the play. My counterpart and I refused."

"And?" I asked impatiently.

"It's a rhetorical question, isn't it?" he looked at me admonishingly. "You know Garner as well as I do, don't you?" We both knew Miss Garner, and that meant, like it or not, he was going to be kissed.

"At least she promised me a modest costume." he continued. "She wanted to get me a frilly dress with a corset to achieve a more feminine look, as she said. Fortunately, she changed her mind." I hoped for him that he was right.

Not long ago, I began to notice that Patrick was changing. Not much; but a little bit every day. It started with his hair. It grew out and reached his shoulders by now. His voice became soft, his movements smooth and the walk tender. In the morning he stayed in the bathroom longer then he used to. I did not dare mention any of that to him.

And then, the day of the play arrived. I was deeply into my books when I heard a sharp knock on the door. I opened it; and Miss Garner rushed in, carrying a black plastic bag and a small suitcase.

"I am looking for Mr. Richard, Mr. Arther." She said coldly, none of her facial muscles moved.

"He is still under the shower."

"Which is his room? I will wait for him there."

She went inside the indicated room; and I went back to work.

Patrick finished his shower, and started to get dressed with Miss Garner's help. Out from my room, I could see through a crack in the door, bits of what was going on in there.

Sometimes Miss Garner appeared to be picking up things from her suitcase. Then I heard Patrick's howl of pain, followed by the sound of a hair dryer. Long moment of silence were interrupted only by Garner's incomprehensible murmurs. White pieces of clothing appeared for milliseconds in the door, and after a while, there was clicking of shoes on the wooden floor. The sound of the plastic bag being opened cut into the air was a prelude to Patrick's horrified cries.

"No, Miss Garner! Please not that! You promised! Please!"

"I've changed my mind. It will be better for the play. Now stop whining!" Garner's strong voice cut in. After that, only the swishing of some material could be heard. Again, the hairdryer began its wail.

"You're finished." ended the teacher. "And look into the mirror how nice you look!".

Short silence.

"I can't go out like that, Miss Garner. Every body will laugh at me." I heard Patrick's weak, barely audible voice.

"Nonsense.

Mr. Arther! Would you mind coming over here, Mr. Arther?" I heard her calling for me. I rose from my desk, and went slowly over to Patrick's room.

"Ah! Mr. Arther. May I present to you, Miss Ann, the main character of this evening's play."

In the middle of the room, was standing a young girl, in an ankle length, white flower girl type dress. Its tight bodice showed her slim figure. Puffed sleeves, a bow on the back, and the wide shimmering double layered and silk trimmed skirt gave it a touch of fine femininity. Her nyloned feet in small heeled, white patent leather shoes with an ankle strap, showed from underneath. Her sweet face showed traces of light make up, and was framed by cascading curled dark hair, with small roses pinned all over the top. A short veil was attached to a bow on the back of her head. There was also a small pearl chain around her neck, and matching earrings completing the picture.

She looked radiant and I was overwhelmed by her beauty.

"Well, Mr. Arther? What do you think? Can this young lady go out dressed like that?" Miss Garner's voice dragged me back from my reverie.

"Well... I... I think, uh, yes" I stammered utterly overwhelmed.

But then I found my speech back.

"Of course, yes! I would ask her right away for a date, if..."

"That's enough Mr. Arther. Thank you for your help." Garner cut in, her non-expression face back on.

"Let's go Mr. Richard, or shall I say Miss Ann?" She grinned broadly, took Patrick by his arm, and left the dormitory. I heard their heels clicking all the way down the hall.

For the next hour I tried to work. But I could not. My thoughts were busy with Patrick. The picture of the girl he has become, was always present.

I gave up working. I showered, dressed, and went down to the hall to help other students with the arriving parents. To all of our surprise the neighbour boarding school for girls was invited, too.

I managed to distract my self. But only to the moment Mike came in.

"Hey guys! Have you seen the small Richard? No?! He is stuck in white frills and heels! Garner has made him a true sweet sissy! "

"He is not a sissy!" I shouted and came out of the corner where from I watched the whole scene. "He looks even better than most of the girls in this hall!"

"Oh? Steven? Is that you? Have you become a faggot that likes sweet, little sissies? I bet he also like to suck cocks like one!" Mike came towards me.

"I am not a faggot, Mike. And do not provoke me. Have you forgotten what happened to you? Shall I tell around, Mike?" I said, looking right into Mikes eyes.

He backed off in fear, as he knew that I hinted at an episode where he had fallen into a river. Unfortunately for him, he did not know how to swim; and I had to get him out. He begged me not to tell anybody.

"Ok, Arther. You're a good man." He straightened my tie and backed off.

"See you after the show." he turned and left with his buddies, leaving me alone at the reception.

The first gong rang announcing the near beginning of the play. The crowd began to move toward the door. The second gong sounded, and the last guest finished their drink in haste. At the third one, there were only few late comers rushing to their seats.

I waited for five minutes; and as there was nobody left, I sneaked myself into the hall.

I was not too late to see Patrick, as Miss Ann, entering the stage.

He was standing there in the middle, his dress glowing white in the bright spotlight. For the whole of the play I neither saw, nor heard anything but him.

Right after the play, I had been charged with the catering of our guests.

"Did you like it?" I heard Patrick's voice; and looked up from the counter.

Then I was presented to his mother, who we found talking cheerfully to Miss Garner. I never saw Old Garner in such a good mood. After a small talk about school, the play, and how sweet Patrick looked in his dress, Mrs. Richard had us stand beside each other and she took a picture. She couldn't cease mentioning how lovely we looked.

Soon our ears hurt and we left her, going outside to catch some fresh air.

We were chatting avidly until we heard Mike approaching.

"There he is!" he shouted. "Hi Siss! Hi Steve! Do we disturb your romantic date?" He said as he approached us, his bullies in tow. "You know I just wanted to tell you how cute you look in your dolly dress!" he turned to Patrick.

"Stop, it Mike." I tried to get rid of the obviously drunk fellow.

"No, no, Steve. You don't get it. I am giving compliments." He again turned to Patrick. "You look very sweet, Siss. May I ask you a question?" he asked nonchalantly. Not waiting for an answer he continued: "I always wondered how it is like to be a sissy? Maybe you could tell me? I heard you sissies do like to suck cocks. You sissies shall be really great cocksuckers. Do you want to suck mine? It's big you know. It will be just right to fill out your sweet lips! "

"Stop it!" I shouted angrily as I recovered from the first daze.

"Oh yes, I see! You prefer Steven's! You're going to suck him of tonight, won't you? That's how a little cocksucker says 'thank you' to it's hero ...!"

I could not hold my self any longer and grabbed mike at his shirt.

"Piss off, Mike, or ..." I had not ended as I felt his knee hit my belly. As I fell back a little, Mike's fist came right on my right eyebrow. Every thing turned around. I tried to find my balance. My head turned. I saw Patrick - a white spot in the dark. He was screaming and holding his hands on his face. But his screams were distant. Powerless. And the only sound I heard.

Something warm run down my check. It was sticky and dark. Blood. My blood. It was all like a film, a film in slow motion. I saw Mike swinging back for the next hit.

And then, I was back. I saw the hit coming, dodged. Mike's punch hit only air were the second before was my face.

For my turn, I made a short strong move of my arm, and my fist was placed on Mike's nose. He stumbled back, searching for balance, turned around and fell face down into mud.

Next thing I remember, is a sharp pain on my side, and me, lying in the mud myself, and hits and kicks all over.

Screams again. Seconds later I saw Mr. Peters face right over me. Next to him was that of Patrick.

"Mr. Arther! Mr. Arther! Are you all right?"

"I'm ok. ...I guess." My reply came slowly.

Hands and arms helped me up to my feet. Supported at first, but then on my own, I was escorted into the building, where a small man looked on my head, and examined me quickly.

"To my opinion, he is all right. Nothing, but bruises." He told to Mr. Peters. Then turned and addressing me, "I advise you to go to bed now. Sleep it over. Maybe your girlfriend could read you some good night stories?" He smiled conspiringly.

Girlfriend? What girlfriend? Did he mean Patrick? A headache stopped me from thinking.

"The doctor is right." I heard Mr Peters voice. "Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

He turned towards Patrick.

"Could you accompany him back, please Miss ... Uh? ..."

"I am Patrick, his dorm mate, Mr Peters."

"Well, ... yes." The headmaster seemed lost. "Please accompany him back."

Supported by Patrick's arm we walked back to our rooms. The silence in the corridors disturbed only by the swishing of his skirts and the clacking of his shoes.

I looked into the mirror on my mud covered punched face. my brow was still bleeding. It did not look as bad as I thought. Only my white shirt was wasted. I took it off and threw it into a corner. A sharp pain from my rips reminded me of other wounds than to my face. I washed my self and took another look on my face.

"Autch!" I yowled lightly out as a disinfecting pad I touched my brow.

"Hold still. It has to be disinfected." Patrick said as he took care of my wound. I watched his delicate moves again. He was a really beautiful girl. And the girl turned me on. But, I knew who this girl really was. Unfortunately.

"Thank you, Patrick" I said and I turned away ashamed.

"It's me to thank you, for what you did tonight for me. Like Mike said..." he stopped for a moment not knowing how to deal with this name. "You really were my personal hero. You were great, as you knocked him down with one hit..." He blushed and turned away. And I blushed, too.

"I would like to thank you. Somehow." I heard his weak voice.

"You really don't have to." My voice was as weak as his.

The silence that encircled us was terrible. Then I felt his fingers running delicately down my bare sides and a kiss being placed on my back. My body shivered.

"Maybe Mike is right." He whispered into my ear.

"We can't... We shouldn't..." I turned around and looked deep into his eyes "You don't have to do it, Patrick."

Tears begun to run down his chicks. Suddenly, he threw his arms around me, and buried his face into my chest. I let him cry.

"I don't know what I want to do or not do!" his voice came weakly in between his weeps. "You were the man you are. But I was the sweet little girl. While you fought, I could only scream. I was a girl back there! Look at me! I even look like one!"

"But you are not..." I whispered.

"I don't know who or what I am!" His crying became more intense.

"Shhhhh! Calm down." I tried to calm him. I put my arms around him and pressed him tight to me. In that moment, lying in my arms, he was the sweet little girl he had played all evening. I was not aware it, but I gently caressed his curled head. My hand glided over the delicate material of the veil down to his shoulders. I felt the fabric of his dress pressed against my naked torso. His skirts enveloped my legs and pressed gently on them. Every thing on Patrick was soft, delicate, and cool. It was strictly feminine. I kissed him on his head.

He stopped crying, lifted his face slowly, and looked into my eyes.

"Even you treat me as the girl you see." His voice was full of conviction.

"No, I don't ...", I started to protest.

"You can't fool me, Steven." A smirk crossed his lips.

In that moment, I knew what he meant. My rock hard organ was bulging my pants making an all too obvious confirmation. And, there was Patrick's hand casually laying on it.

I stared in horror in Patrick's eyes.

Lie! It's a lie! The first thought that crossed my mind, was to deny it. No, I could not. I knew that Patrick knew. I decided to be honest.

"Patrick. , I can't lie on you." I begun. "At this moment you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and met. While I am in your presence, I feel very attracted to you. But, I know who you are. And I don't think we can ever be together as more than friends, although I sexually desire you very much, here and now."

Patrick looked in to my eyes. Time passed slowly.

"I crave you too, Steven" he said finally. "And I would like to be your girl, if only for today" he added whispering.

I stared at him in disbelief.

We kissed.

I licked lightly at his lips. He soon opened his, letting my tongue inside his mouth. He began to lick it gently. I was amazed at how nice it felt. We french kissed!

I felt my erection growing in my pants; and, despite the hindrance of several petticoats, I felt Patrick's pressing through his dress into my thigh, also.

I knew, deep down, that I should hate what was happening; but, I was flattered. I was intoxicated by the circumstances. Patrick's hand had begun to caress my penis through my pants. It felt good, very good.

For my part, I had begun to caress his in return. Through the thin material, I traced the edges of his corset.

Patrick's fingers opened my pants button and the zipper. My pants fell down to my feet, snagging around my ankles. Now, I was wearing only a pair of shorts. Patrick's hand continued to caress my stomach. His fingers gently, but firmly, entered between the skin and the cotton. Following the waistband, they glided around to my buttocks. The shorts followed my pants to knot at my ankles.

Now I was all naked. My member was sticking out, and pressing on the white skirt. It felt cool and soft. I loved the way the material caressed my hard on. It added another sensation to my ecstasy. Then, I felt fingers encircling my shaft. They began to masturbate me.

Meanwhile I placed my hand on Patrick's buttocks, right under the big bow, and squeezed them. He seemed to like it, as he increased the frequency of his stroking; and pressed his tongue deeper into my mouth.

We finally broke off our lengthy kiss.

I looked down to my groin and watched the small feminine hand gliding up and down my shaft. Patrick had begun to kiss my neck, slowly descending to my chest and then moved down to my belly. Finally, he was kneeling in front of me, my cock right in front his face. He was still holding it in his hand.

First he licked the tip. Then, for just a moment, he looked up into my eyes.

"Mike was right" he said, as he opened his red lips and let my penis glide inside. His head moved back and fourth, slowly at first, letting it glide in and out over his sensitive lips. But soon, he was sucking and licking it wildly. His hair bounced on his shoulders in the rhythm he took my penis into his mouth. The veil swayed with it as if a hand were holding it in place.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, enjoying my lovers caress. It was so wonderful. I came, in big spurts, right into his throat.

Patrick swallowed all of the load, and sucked my cock clean, while I gasped for breath.

I helped him to get up and I lovingly kissed him. His lips had a light salty taste.

"Thank you." I said simply, took him into my arms, and held him tightly for a while, kissing his lovely scented hair.

Then I took his hand, and led him into my room. Sitting on my bed beside each other, our lips together, I began to caress Patrick's tights through his dress and petticoats. He straddled his legs encouraging me to proceed. In his groin, I could feel a slight pressure of his hard member through his petticoats. I fondled it between my fingers for a time while he caressed my member which had gotten hard again. I bent over, and reached with my hand down to his ankles. Guiding my fingers delicately up his smooth nylon covered legs, past his knees, to the inner thighs, I managed to lift up the miles of the silk layers of his skirts. I caressed the thigh for a while. Then I moved my hand past the stocking's edge, down between his legs. Patrick shivered.

Then I very gently brushed the front of his panties. Patrick only tightened his embrace around my neck. My fingers lightly explored the rock hard penis through the fine silk. I caressed it for a while.

I broke off our kiss, and slipped to my knees between his stockinged legs. With both hands, I took his panties, and lowered the elastic over his penis.

There it was. Sticking out from the groin, it was the only reminder of this beautiful girl's origin.

Hesitantly, I touched it, slowly gliding my finger tips from the base to its head. And, then I leaned forward. His hardness moved slowly across my sensitive lips as I lowered my head. It touched my tongue, and soon, I begun licking it.

I was pleased to be giving pleasure to the sweetest girl I had ever met.

Patrick lay his leg on my shoulder; and I reached down, and begun caressing his buttocks. Soon, my fingers poked in and out his virgin orifice. The sensation was too much. He immediately writhed and moaned as he exploded in my mouth.

Then I asked him to lay down on his side, and to draw up his legs. He did. I read once, that this was the best position for first time anal penetrations.

I managed to get the skirts aside and with one finger I applied some Vaseline on his rectum.

"Are you ready?" I asked as I spread his cheeks, and placed my penis at his entry.

He nodded his head and buried his face into the pillow. His chest was moving fast. I bent over, kissed his neck, caressed his bum, and pushed lightly. With a slight resistance, my penis moved into the lubricated hole. A pop, and my glans was past the sphincter. Patrick gave a light cry; and grabbed for my shaft.

I got anxious. I did not want to hurt him. I tried to withdraw my member; but Patrick's hand did not allow me to. I was perplexed, I did not know what to do ... But then I felt the grip loosen and Patrick begun to caress my hips. I understood the message.

My shaft began to disappear slowly into his bottom as I slowly increased the pressure. When the first half of it was in, I stopped for a second. Then I began to pull back, till only the tip of my penis was still inside. The next try went in easily. Steadily, I increased the force, and the frequency of my thrusts. I loved my girl like this for a while.

I paid attention that my penis would not slip out as I placed my self behind Patrick, laying on my side. He seemed to like the acrobatic act. He moaned and rested his leg on my hip as I began taking him from behind. Then I reached down, and put my arm under his knee; and pulled his leg up into the air. My free hand grabbed his hard member; and started to masturbate it in the rhythm of our action. My strokes became more and more persistant, forcing my penis into Patrick's tight entrance down to its base. We were kissing deeply when I began to pump spurt after spurt inside him. I was still moving in and out, as suddenly, his penis got bigger and erupted into my hand.

We lay on the bed for a long while. I held Patrick tightly in my arms. Our exhausted bodies, pressing against each other, were gasping for air.

Then he turned around, kissed my lips and smiled warmly.

"Now you lay back; and I'll spoil you" he said, before he sat up.

First he massaged my chest, arms and shoulders. He did it fantastically. I knew Patrick has had massage classes, but I never knew he was this good. Eyes closed, I relaxed quickly. He continued massaging my feet and legs, till his hands got to my crotch. Fingers moved my penis delicately up into the air. Then I heard Patrick's skirts rustling lightly and felt his warm breathe on my glans, before it was enveloped by his soft lips. Fondling my member with his tongue, he made me hard again.

Meanwhile, I moved my hand under the skirts to his nyloned knees. Caressing his leg, I moved up till I reached his bottom and with his cleft.

I was near a climax again. I grabbed Patrick's hair to enhance the frequency of his caress; but he broke free.

"Not yet sweetheart" he said, smiling, and then he stood up. He stepped with one foot over my body, and sat down on my belly, spreading his skirts around him, covering me almost entirely. The petticoat's edge tickled both my chin and my bare chest. He positioned his rear end over my penis and lowered his body. I grabbed his waist, as my member entered deep into his bum. He rode me eagerly, moaning in joy. I felt his shoes forcing their flat heels into my hips; and his nyloned legs pressing against my sides. His testicles pounded against my tummy. It took him only few minutes; and for the third time that night, I reached a climax, ejaculating inside the sweet girl. Patrick bucked, gave a firm scream, and came inside his petticoats, finally collapsing on my chest.

We slept deeply in a tight embrace until the morning sun woke us.

That same day, Mike had a long and serious talk with Mr Peters and his father. Miss Garner insisted to take part, too. We never learned what was said; but Mike apologised to Patrick that day; and was never again to do any trouble.

The play was a complete success; and the school was asked to play it for some other near by schools. Every time Patrick was back in his dress, we made love.

The time passed quickly. Soon my final exams arrived, followed by the graduation party.

On the last day of school, Patrick gave me a picture of me and Ann, which his mother took just after the first play. We quickly said goodbye to each other. Neither of us wanted to be seen crying in public. I did cry, afterwards, at home while looking at the photograph. I sincerely hoped to see Ann again.

One day during the summer, I received a small card with an invitation to Patrick's birthday party. Of course, I was going to go. On the appointed day, I rode back to the station near his home.

As I passed the gate of the old manor house, I saw a young girl in a red trimmed blue-dot summer dress sitting on a swing and reading a book.

Every move of her nyloned legs capped with white Mary-Jane's flared up the skirt of her dress, showing a glimpse of a petticoat. Her curled hair fell down her back from underneath a white hat with a sash around her chin so as to hold it in place.

As I approached, she noticed me, quickly put her book aside, and came towards me, smiling happily. I could hardly believe my eyes as I recognised Patrick. Actually, it was Patrick no more, but rather Ann, the girl he had now become fulltime.

She led into the house, where I was greeted by Ann's mother. In the living room, a woman rose from a couch. She was in her late thirties, and in her beige suit and matching heels, with a skirt showing her slim legs, she was very attractive. The moment she spoke to me I recognised Miss Garner! I was lost in confusion by all the surprises presented in rapid succession! Fortunately for me, Ann came back with her birthday cake packed into a picnic basket; and taking me by the hand, we all went out into the countryside.

Ann giggled while she explained to me that Miss Garner and her mother are "very close" now. The two women became more than friends while transforming Patrick into the girl he was now. I turned around, and saw the two women had stopped walking and were kissing.

Ann led me further, to a spot she liked the most an edge of a tall cliff, surrounded by woods, and overlooking the valley. There, we had our picnic and celebrated her birthday. While I ate my cake. I watched Miss Garner and Mrs Richard kissing passionately, their hands openly exploring each other's body.

"Let's leave them alone." I heard Ann's sweet voice whispering in my ear.

She led me to a place nearby where an old tree gave a nice, cool shadow over a spot with a wonderful view. While she stood beside the old tree looking out over the vista, I took her in my arms. She turned her head, and we began kissing. Soon, we were making love, with Ann leaning against the tree, her dress pulled up and me behind her. In a minute I reached my orgasm and I placed the load of my cum into Ann's rear, that I had saved over the weeks. Ann came into my hand.

She kissed me briefly and took me by the hand, and we walked slowly back to our picnic spot.

And there we found Miss Garner sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Her white blouse was open exposing her big breasts, her skirt was pulled up. Mrs. Richard was kneeling in front of her, face deep in her lover's crotch. The moment they noticed us approaching, the two women startled. Mrs Richard slid aside releasing a penis from her mouth.

I could not believe my eyes! My former teacher, Miss Garner, the feminist, was actually a man!

Both women were very sorry about the incident but their lust overcame them both.

Over a piece of the birthday cake, Miss Garner told me her life story. Throughout her story, I could not look away from her half rigid member, peeking from underneath her skirt. She told me about the raping as she got out en femme for the first time. From that time on, she became harsh to every man in her life. She never slept with a man nor a woman again, "until I met Ann's Mother" she finished.

"Thank you, both. You were a great help for me." Miss Garner said at the end. We all continued making love through all of the afternoon.

I stayed with Ann's till the next morning.

As the train left the station we waved to each other for long time.

This was the last time I saw her.

Soon after, I moved far away to start my studies.

We kept in touch for long time, writing each other regularly. For her final year, Ann attended a girls only school, organised by Miss Garner.

Afterwards, she began studying in an other city. She wrote about her fear of being found out, which kept her out of almost any possible relationship. She began to struggle with the decision whether or not to undergo the final step of her transformation.

With the passing of more time, the letters began to arrive less regularly. Slowly we were losing contact. In the last letter I received from her, Ann reported that few weeks ago she had met an old friend of ours. They had begun dating; and finally got together. There was a picture of them both added to her letter. I was very surprised to make out Mike!

He had not changed much. But Ann had. She was no more the sweet little girl I knew, but an elegant young lady. Her once curled hair was now straight, the cute Mary-Jane's were replaced by high heels. Her dress was tight and short, revealing her long perfect, nylon sheathed legs. Her now real breasts were pushing out prominently in front.

Mike stood behind Ann, holding her closely around her waist. Her hands rested lightly on his. Cheek to cheek, both were smiling cheerfully into the camera. They looked happy.

With a quick look of an expert, I had the evidence that Ann really was happy: a bulge in front of her tight skirt!

I was envious of Mike but happy for Ann...

 

The End

  

  

  

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