Reminder: please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Also, this story involves forced feminization. If that's not your cup of tea, please save your time and skip this story; don't read it and tell me it's unrealistic (I know that), or you don't like this type of story (fine by me).

 

Priscilla's Peril

by Kate

    

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. My meals—if you can call them that—consisted of some cottage cheese or some other mush. Mom—and especially Margaret-- made me eat lots of those Sub-Missy Snack Bars. By the end of the end of the week, I had eaten three boxes of those stupid bars. I tried to ignore the signs that the bars were having any effect on me, but I was only kidding myself.

On Friday, Mom said I deserved a little time off because I had been "working so hard." No kidding. "Finally," I said with a sigh. I couldn't wait to go for a bike ride or something and try to think of a way to convince Mom that Margaret had set me up. Unfortunately, Mom had other ideas.

"Why don't you slip into your pretty bathing suit?"

"Um, that's okay. I'll find something else to do."

Mom quickly grabbed me by the arm and dragged me upstairs to my room. "I see you've already forgotten our little talk from the other morning. Now strip."

Immediately, I felt my face redden and get hot. "M-Mo--om, I don't…"

"I said, strip," she insisted in a steely voice.

I was actually trembling as I removed my clothes. I was utterly humiliated at the idea of wearing the swimsuit, but I felt powerless to disobey Mom. That Sub-Missy stuff was working! Finally, I stood naked in front of her and Margaret, cowering in shame. Mom led me to the full-length mirror and positioned me so that I stood facing it, Mom and Margaret grinning right behind me.

"Ohh, Priscilla," Mom mocked. "Your diet is really working. Look how thin you're getting. Your arms and legs are just soo delicate."

I winced. I had avoided looking in the mirror and what I saw was horrifying. I hardly had any muscle left! Except for the lack of breasts, my body already looked like a young girl's.

Margaret caught my dejected look and giggled.

"Priscilla, I think you owe your sister a big thank you for supervising your diet!" Mom said sternly.

My face got redder. I wanted to scream at the top my lungs, but I couldn't seem to muster the willpower to disobey Mom. She seemed so imposing and scary!

"Th-thank you, Ms. Margaret," I said meekly.

"You're welcome, Pris. But we've got a long way to go. You do want to be model thin, don't you?"

I cringed as Mom answered for me: "It doesn't matter if he does or not. If your brother wants to play girly dress up games, then I insist that he look dainty and girly in his dresses.

Mom strode over to my dresser. I could see her walking up behind me in the mirror twirling "my" swimsuit on her fingers. "With your new figure, you'll look even prettier in your two-piece. Here." She held it in front of me.

The idea of wearing that shameful thing in front of Mom was too humiliating. A wave of embarrassment crashed down on me and I took a huge gulp of air. I couldn't wear it. It was so girly!

"Your sister told me that you bought this at a place called the Sissy Mister. I had a hard time believing that you'd actually buy such a femmy liitle suit, but I checked, and Ms. Gladstone, the owner, had a vivid recollection of when you bought it. She described you to a tee; even that little scar on your stomach. She said you were like a kid in the candy store with all the sissy clothes they had. When I told her about your diagnosis and treatment, she suggested the Sub-Missy bars."

It was a set up! Margaret must have told her all that stuff.

"What's the matter? You bought this for your sickening secret little sissy fantasies. You even wore it for Margaret and her friends after you swore them to secrecy. Well, now I want to wear it for me. Now put it on!" she growled.

I flinched at Mom's order. I took the bottom from her and slowly pulled it up my legs. Every sissy detail screamed at me as I pulled it into place. With a smirk, Mom shoved the top in my hands. When I pulled the top on, Mom handed me the breast forms. They felt like they weighed a ton. I wished the earth would swallow me as I placed them into the cups. When Mom reached around me to adjust them in the cups of the top, I thought I would explode with shame. I could see the look of smug satisfaction on my Mom's face.

"Well?"

It took me a few seconds to realize that she wanted me to put on the rest of the outfit. I went to my closet, and found the high-heeled mules. Slipping them on my feet, I struggled to the dresser and after trying a couple of drawers, found the chiffon cover up. Just touching it was embarrassing. I thought I would faint as I struggled to fasten the large buttons.

"Much better. No one will confuse you with a normal boy in this get up. And look, we have a little surprise for you."

Margaret laughed as she handed me the matching beach bag, scarf, sun hat, and sunglasses. There was even a stupid matching parasol!

"Ms. Gladstone said these go with your outfit. If you want to prance around dressed like a girl, you've got to learn that the details make an outfit." My face burned as she and Margaret happily arrayed me in the accessories.

When they were done, I looked like the world's biggest fairy; a boy all dressed up in a sophisticated ladies' two-piece swimsuit.

"Mom, doesn't he look perfect?"

"Yes, dear. But this is just a start. Your femmy brother still has a long way to go. Thanks to Dr. Poole and Ms. Gladstone, I've got lots of ideas for Priscilla. But you two better hurry, you don't want to be late."

Mom's words snapped me out of my trance. "Wh-hat?"

"Heather invited us to her house for a pool party. Won't that be fun? We can walk, it's only a few blocks."

I panicked. "No! Please! Not that! I'll die if anyone sees me dressed like this. Please Mom! No." I thought my heart would stop at the idea of people seeing me in that get up. I even started to well up with tears.

"Don't be so melodramatic, dear. I want everyone to see what a girly little boy my precious son is. Besides, the girls have already seen the real you, remember?"

In no time, Margaret was dragging me to Heather's house, which was a few blocks over. "Keep up or I'll punish you right here," she threatened. "I put the crop in your bag. Remember what Mom said!"

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. I did remember what Mom said. The things she threatened were horrible. I plastered a smile on my red face and tried to match Margaret's pace. Those stupid high-heeled sandals made it difficult.

At Heather's house, I prayed that the earth would swallow me as we waited at the door. I was horrified when Ms. Johnson, Heather's mom, answered Margaret's knock.

"Hi, girls. Come on in. Heather and the other girls are out by the pool." By this time, Ms. Johnson had taken a closer look at me. "Oh –my- gawd! Aren't we pretty," she smirked. "Isn't it a little bit early for Halloween?"

"Ms. Johnson, this is my brother, Priscilla. It turns out he's been secretly dressing and acting like a girl for ages. Mom says that it's time for him to come out of the closet," she smiled.

"Is that true, Priscilla?"

"Yes, ma'am," I murmured.

She laughed, and flipped her wrist: "Well, then, love your outfit, fairy," she said cattily.

Margaret glared at me. Mom had given me clear instructions on what to do whenever I received a compliment, whether real or sarcastic. "Thank you, I just adore it. I bought it myself," I lied.

Ms. Jones didn't hide her look of disgust as she invited us in. I was glad to get away from Heather's mother, but the shrieks of the girls brought me back to reality. "Look who's here; it's Priscilla, the pantywaist! How darling you look, Prissy. Look! He's carrying a sissy parasol."

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I heard something that sent chills down my spine: "What on earth is going on down here? Heather, could you and your girlfriends keep it down a little?" As she finished speaking, the assembled girls parted, and my nightmare was confirmed: It was Suzy Johnson! I'd completely forgotten that Heather must be her younger sister! I tried to back away, but the giggling girls blocked my escape.

She stared at me disbelievingly. "Peter? Peter Parker? Is that you? Why are you dressed up like a…"

"A big fairy?" Heather chirped. Because that's what he is; just ask him," she teased.

Suzy looked at me questioningly, hurt and confusion in her eyes.

I stammered as I tried to think of some excuse for being in her house dressed like a fruit. My heart was pounding and my throat tightened as I began to speak. "Suzy, it's kind of complicated," I said, trying to stall. Margaret poked me hard from behind. Mom had threatened that if I were less than "forthright" with anyone, she would see that the judge knew about it and sent me back to the juvenile facility. Taking a deep breath, I tried to pretend it was all a dream: " Suzy, I'm...I guess what I'm trying to say is, well, I'm a …sissy."

The girls erupted at my answer, and as Margaret and her friends quickly dragged me to the pool, Suzie was left standing mutely, a horrified look on her face.

It hardly mattered that the girls spent the rest of the afternoon teasing and taunting me. All I could think about was Suzy, and what she must think of me. Just a few weeks ago, we had been on the verge of romance. I knew she really liked me. Maybe she would see that this was all set up. After all, she had known me for years. I began to think that coming to the Johnson home that afternoon could be just the breakthrough I was looking for to get me out of this mess.

As I thought about what to say to Suzie, I could see her mother inside the house, sipping a glass of wine and staring at me with that Cheshire grin. When she caught me looking, she flipped her wrist and blew me a kiss. Crap!

As Heather, Margaret, and the girls busied themselves with drinks and snacks in the kitchen, Suzy finally made her way out to the lounge chair where I had been instructed to remain. Although she had a tight smile on her face, her eyes were red, and it looked like she had been crying earlier. I felt just awful. Unlike her younger sister, Suzie was sweet and kind, and I hated to see her upset.

"Suzy, please let me explain."

"I feel so stupid!" she interrupted, self-deprecatingly. " It's so obvious to me now. I thought it was strange when you volunteered to play Little Bo-Peep back in the 6^th grade. I really wanted that part. And to think, I've been dying for you to ask me out for weeks. I guess my friends will think I'm some sort of lesbian or something." She wiped away a tear. She sighed deeply to regain her composure. "I'm sorry. Just listen to me, only thinking of myself. I can only imagine what it will be like for you, now that your secret is out."

"Suzy, you've got to listen to me. This is all a big mistake. Margaret set me up at, and…."

"I think you better stop right there, Peter…Priscilla," she said firmly. "Even though my dreams of us being a couple are finished, I still want to be your friend. After all, I think you're going to need a friend in light of all that's happened," she said gesturing to my outfit. "It's really too bad that boys… like you can't come out of the closet on your own, but I guess that's part of the problem. I called your mother, and…"

"You did what?" I exclaimed.

"It isn't polite to interrupt, Priscilla," she warned seriously. "As I was saying, I talked your mother. She told me that all she wants to do is help make your fantasies come true. Why are you whimpering? I think that sounds wonderful. Who wouldn't want their fantasies to come true? Your mom told me about the class she went to and offered to tell me exactly what to do to help you through this. Isn't that great?"

"Suzy, please. You don't understand."

"Don't worry, Priscilla. Your mom told me all about how you love being feminized, teased, embarrassed and humiliated. I've got to admit, I think that's just disgusting, but I'm going to set my own feelings aside…for you. If that's what turns you on, who am I to judge. To think, I always assumed you liked girls."

I stared at Suzy through my tears filled eyes. This couldn't be happening. "Noo, Suzy. It's a lie. None of that awful stuff is true."

"Your mother warned me that you'd deny it. It's all right sweetie; you just let it out. I told her that if that's what you wanted, I'd do everything I could help." She sounded so pleased. "You know, you're really lucky to have an accepting and caring family like your mother and Margaret."

Just then, the girls returned with their drinks. Heather chirped, "Suzy, are you and Prissy enjoying a little girl talk?"

"As a matter of fact, we are," she said cheerily. As I dried my tears, Suzy looked at me with a wry smile. "Priscilla, your mother mentioned that you've been working on something at home for Margaret and her. Why don't you give Heather and the other girls a demonstration," she said, looking at me impishly.

I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

At my hesitation, Margaret reached into the beach bag and handed Suzy the crop. " Here, Mom says that we should always use this when Priscilla won't obey." Suzy giggled nervously and took a few tentative practice swings with the crop

"I like to make him bend over," Margaret said helpfully.

" I just adore being a sissy," I exclaimed between sobs for what seemed to be the hundredth time. By this time, Ms. Johnson had joined the crowd, simply adding to my humiliation. When Suzy had showed her the crop, she had given me a couple of really hard swats. In no time, Suzie was giggling and raining blows on my helpless bottom. She hesitated slightly when I started crying, but picked up the pace when I was unable to stop after she insisted I do so. Ms. Johnson caught all of it on her digital camera. I couldn't wait to get home.

At the door, Suzy took me aside and fussed with my outfit. "Priscilla, at first I was shocked and hurt when I found out about your shameful secret. But now that I know the truth … well, thank goodness I found out before we actually started dating. It gives me the creeps when I think about going out with a boy who secretly loves to wear panties, bras, and dresses. Yuck! How revolting is that! Anyway, I know you really loved it when I whipped you and made you do all those curtsies, even though you pretended not to. If I hadn't talked to your mom, you really would have had me fooled. Ta-ta! See you soon, sweetie."

At home, Mom smirked as Margaret fed me my meager dinner. "Did you have a good time this afternoon, Bathing Beauty? I had the most entertaining conversation with your friend, Suzy. You should have heard the shock in her voice when I told her about the real you. Poor little thing; she actually wanted to go out with you. Isn't that hilarious? Imagine, a pansy like you with a girl. Anyway, when I told her about your little performance in my nightgown, I actually thought she was going to throw up. Of course, I lied a little and told her you love all this. She's such a goody-goody, she'd never do anything to hurt you. By the time we were finished, she really wanted to help you be happy and make all your girlish dreams come true. Isn't that sweet? I directed her to Dr. Poole's sissification materials online. I just know that she'll get lots of ideas that will make you wish you'd never fooled her into thinking you were a normal boy."

The next morning after breakfast, I found myself jammed into Mom's car, surrounded by Margaret and her jabbering girlfriends. She eventually pulled the car into a parking space in the "exclusive" part of town in front of a store I didn't recognize. My heart fell as I read the stylized script on the pink and white awning: "The Sissy Mister." "Since you obviously enjoy shopping here, fairy boy, I think you simply must wear their fashions…all the time! And you better behave...or else."

I struggled uselessly as the girls easily hurried me along, ignoring my feeble efforts to flee. As we got closer, I could se that the girlishly posed boy mannequins in the window were attired in dresses! They were so prissy and girly! I involuntarily gasped in horror.

This is going to be so much fun," Heather whispered in my ear.

As we entered the store, I was nearly apoplectic with fear. The store was a girly-girl's pink fantasy-come-true! It was decorated with an explosion of pink ribbons and bows, accentuated with feminine floral prints. The store made that famous lingerie place in the mall look like a men's locker room!

If anything, the merchandise was even more feminine than the décor. Other than on television and maybe at weddings, I had never laid eyes on such excessively feminine clothes. While the girls were gleefully examining the boy mannequins dressed in stupid party dresses, this mannish-looking woman approached us. Her hair was in a severe bun, and she wore a pinstriped man-tailored suit. She was freaky.

"Peter! How wonderful to see you again." The woman gave me ladylike hug and a kiss like we were old friends. I had never seen her before in my life. "I hope you can forgive me, sweetie, but I told your mother all about your shopping spree for your swim suit. You're a very naughty little girl, telling me your family knew all about the real you. Shame on you!"

She turned to Mom and the girls. "Hello ladies. We're going to have so much fun today." The woman's fancy name tag identified her as "Doris Gladstone, Owner."

Mom smiled, "Doris, I've been looking forward to this. I can't wait to see how much my little closet sissy likes it when he's dressing like an effeminate sissy all the time. I want there to be no mistake about the fact that my son is a silly little girly-boy."

Ms. Gladstone gave me a feral smile. "You needn't worry. Our team of designers and chemists works incessantly to develop the perfect sissification program for every boy. Tell me what you have in mind for Prissy?"

"Well, Doris, since Priscilla thinks it's so funny to mock women—me, in particular-- with his little dress-up games, I want him to know exactly how it feels to be the object of ridicule." Mom came over and lifted my chin so that our eyes met. "From now on, I'm going to make sure that my son's appearance is as outrageously effeminate as possible."

My mouth went bone dry as I stared into Mom's cold, angry eyes.

My eyes plead with her to relent, but her only response was to pinch me on the cheek. Margaret and her friends thought my dejected look was hilarious. Ms. Gladstone's grin returned. "I know just the image for your son. Let's start with some wicked foundation garments and lingerie; something to remind your son of his new status in life. And of course, he simply must be in dresses and skirts all the time. Our Fem Fairy collection is our most excessively feminine line; it should be just perfect for Prissy. Just perfect for making his inner girl public." The girls laughed uproariously as I turned beet red.

Ms. Gladstone wasn't finished. "Since Priscilla is such a femmy little girly-boy, he really should appear as prim and ladylike as possible. So we'll give him an exaggerated fifties look; a sissy sophisticate, but absurdly effeminate," she laughed.

"With a really nipped in waist?" Heather giggled.

Janey added: "And wide circle skirts with lots of petticoats? And some of those really tight pencil skirts?"

Sandra piped up with a smirk, "And some darling, tight little sweaters to show off sissy boy's budding assets?" The girls roared. They thought this was the funniest thing ever.

"Excellent choices, girls. What marvelous taste you have!"

I started to tremble. They couldn't be serious. "Stop it! Stop laughing! I'm not going to wear any of that crap. You can't do this to me. It's wrong! I'm a boy!"

"Had enough?" the pretty clerk asked. I nodded tearfully; I thought she would never stop after Ms. Gladstone had asked her to "correct my attitude." It stung like hell, and in no time I was sobbing from a mixture of pain and humiliation. The clerk led me back to where Ms. Gladstone and my tormentors were waiting.

"Priscilla, there you are. We've got to hurry; Madge is expecting you in the salon. Ms. Gladstone roughly grabbed my arm and propelled me past the racks of dresses to a different part of the store. In a few seconds, we were standing in front of a reception desk to what appeared to be an old-fashioned, very feminine beauty salon. The place had a sickeningly sweet smell of hairspray and junk. Looking past the reception area, I could see operators attired in pink smocks working on their clients. Looking more closely, I could see that the clients in girlish pink capes getting their hair cut, curled, styled and sprayed were boys…like me. Sisters, mothers, and aunts were all watching gleefully, mocking the guys getting their hair done… like ladies. If I hadn't been so terrified, I would have felt sorry for them. I was so upset by what I saw, I didn't notice the arrival of Madge, the manager of the salon. She was older, and had a hard look about her. Her thin lips were set in a smirk as she looked me up and down.

"Well hello, girls. Let me guess. You must be Mrs. Parker."

Yes, hello, Madge. So nice to meet you. I just love your salon."

Madge beamed. "And who is this pretty little girl?" she asked, talking to me as if I were a baby.

"This is my son, Prissy. His sister, Margaret, and I want to watch him get a full feminine makeover; pretty make-up, divine hairstyle, glamorous nails…the works. He's been dishonest with his family and friends about his sissy fantasies, so I want them to be obvious to everyone who sees him."

Madge giggled cruelly. "Prissy, darling. Did you hear that? We're going to have ever so much fun.

She brought over a large stylebook of sissy hairstyles. They were horrid! All of them were absurdly prissy. My face burned in embarrassment as I considered having my hair styled like the pictures. My knees went weak. How could I ever face my friends? How could I ever show myself in public? The humiliation was awful.

Madge purred evilly: "I think I know the perfect style. It's prissy and pretty--just precious. But it's a nightmare to style; curlers, styling gel, and tons of hairspray. You'll need a standing weekly appointment for a wash and set. Of course, real girls never have their hair styled this way—at least not since the Fifties. It's truly a sissy's 'do.' With a flourish, she pointed to a repulsive picture of a boy with a girlish teased bouffant, thick bangs covering his forehead. A silly bow was affixed right above his bangs.

I gasped as I saw the revolting image.

"Of course, this "do' looks even more girlish with platinum blonde hair, Madge chuckled.

Mom and the girls loved Madge's recommendation, and in no time, I found myself in a salon chair like the other guys. A silly lace trimmed cape was affixed around my neck. As I scanned the salon nervously, I thought I would throw up; the other boys looked like complete fags. I knew I was looking at my own fate.

Madge roughly went to work, ignoring my whimpers as she tugged and yanked my hair. She coated my hair with this foul smelling paste. After she rinsed that out, Madge happily shampooed me, trimmed my hair, and started putting curlers in using lots of this thick setting gel and these small prickly curlers. Damn! Did she have to roll them so tight? I felt like she was pulling all my hair out.

Margaret talked to Madge as she worked. "Wow, that looks like a lot of work. Will he have to do this every day?"

"Absolutely, right before bedtime. I'll let you pick out lots of pretty chiffon sleep bonnets to cover his curlers. In the morning, he'll need to take his curlers out, tease his hair, pin it up, and spray it into place. But he'll look sooo girlish…I'm just know he'll love it."

"Hear that, Priscilla? You're going to be a curler queen!" Mom laughed. "As you roll your hair each night, it will be a reminder of what a little fairy you are."

When my head was completely covered in neat rows of small pink curlers, Madge put me under a hair dryer, pulled down the large bullet-shaped hood, and shoved a Sissy Teen magazine in my hand. The roar of the hair dryer kept me from hearing anything, but I could see Mom and the girls laughing and pointing at me. Of course, the girls all had cameras. I shut my eyes to block out the humiliation. I knew what I must look like; the perfect little sissy boy getting his hair done nice and pretty. I sat under the dryer until I thought my head would catch on fire.

Finally, as the girls giggled their approval, Madge led me back to her chair, and began to take out those ridiculous curlers. I was happy to get those stupid curlers out of my hair, but what they did to my hair was horrifying. My head was a mass of stiff, platinum blonde curls!

"Now watch how I do this, sugar, because you'll need to learn this yourself."

Sugar my ass. Madge took a comb and started combing my hair, but she started combing it up! She did it really fast, and it yanked my head all over the place. Then she started using bobby pins on the side to pin my hair up on the sides. When she was done, except for those stupid bangs, my hair was arranged on top of my head like a cotton candy from the fair! Crap. Then she sprayed the whole thing with this can of awful smelling hairspray. When the fog lifted, I looked in the mirror. Oh my gosh! I looked like someone's idea of a cartoon sissy! It was horrible.

Margaret and the girls jumped and clapped their hands with amusement. "Priscilla, look at you! Aren't you darling in your sissy bouffant? But it needs a little something, don't you think? Still laughing, Margaret pinned a big pink satin bow at the front of my hair, just above my bangs. If my hair looked bad now, it really looked ridiculous then. I covered my face with my hands as I sobbed in shame.

I sobbed harder as I heard Mom tell Madge that we would need curlers, extra-hold setting gel, lots and lots of hairspray, and "oodles" of pretty hair accessories and pretty bows.

Madge grinned as she fussed with the bow in my hair. "I'll make appointments for Priscilla for every other weekend." Seeing Mom's puzzled look, she continued. "I thought it might be fun for Priscilla to have his hair shampooed and set at your own salon once a month. That way all your friends and the mothers of Prissy's friends can see firsthand what a fairy he is."

Mom laughed, "What a great idea! I'll have Beth, my regular stylist, really give him the works. What about the other weekend?"

"Well, you might find it amusing to find a old-fashioned salon; one where men are…unwelcome. Some place where Priscilla can learn about real ridicule and humiliation."

"Madge! You're a genius! I know just the place; Bertha's Beauty Barn. It's a pink collar kind of place; a real old fashioned beauty parlor. Imagine how they'll react to a sissy boy getting his hair set in curlers. Won't that be fun, Priscilla? You can get your hair done with the other girls."

I knew the place Mom was talking about; it was a tired-looking place that time had passed by. The idea of setting foot in the place sent chills up my spine.

Before I could recover from my horror, Madge roughly led me to a make-up counter, like at a fancy department store. The pretty make-up girl laughed as she took in my new hair-do. "Love your do, dearie. We can go lots of different ways with your make-up. Most sissies like to wear just a hint of make-up; maybe a little clear lip gloss, a touch of foundation. Enough to feel pretty, but hardly noticeable unless you're looking for it. One level up, we have a prettier, girlier look; foundation, powder, lipstick, mascara, and a little eyeliner. This look is for boys who want to be a little more obvious in their femininity.

Option three is our feminine coup de gras. The look is one of excessive femininity; girlishness taken to new extremes. There's nothing at all natural about this look. The whole world will know you're wearing make-up to look feminine and pretty, and a lot of it at that. It's also very high maintenance. You'll have to check and fix your make-up constantly throughout the day. Your compact mirror will be your new best friend."

"He'll take option three. Doesn't that sound exciting, Prissy? You enjoy pretending to be a girl so much; you simply must wear lots and lots of make-up. I can't wait to make you freshen your make-up in front of all your friends."

Mary joined her giggle. "Let's start with eyebrows. I'll need to shape them…

"Shape them? What do you mean? I thought you were doing make-up."

"Why, I need to pluck them, dearie. For your "ultra-femme" look, you simply must have thin, arched eyebrows." Mary started plucking my eyebrows, causing me to yelp in pain. When she was done, I was horrified. I looked like a complete fag! Even if I didn't wear any make-up, I'd look like a sissy. I prayed they grow back in a day or so. To make matters worse, Margaret and Heather were doubled over in laughter.

Next, Mary took out a bottle and started applying a thick liquid to my face with a sponge. She said it was foundation. After my face was covered in the stuff, my face felt like it weighed a ton. Before I could say anything, Mary started applying this sweet-smelling powder to my face with a large powder sponge. It tickled a little bit.

When I opened my eyes, I was appalled. I looked like I was made of porcelain or something, I was so pale. But I couldn't complain because Mary was busy lining my lips and applying lipstick.

Priscilla, don't you just adore this color? This sophisticated red makes your lips so kissable. Plus, it's our own special formula. It makes your lips much fuller and gives you the prettiest little pout."

She worked on my eyes next.

Mom giggled, "Are those false eyelashes?"

"Of course. They're a sissy's best friend. Look how amazing they look."

"Oh my gosh!" Janie exclaimed.

Mary kept up her prattle. "Let's make those girly eyebrows pop with some this dark pencil. Darling! This liquid eyeliner will take some practice, Priscilla. Watch carefully. Some pretty color on the lids. And of course, lots and lots of mascara. Now the cheekbones. Don't you love this blush? It gives you boys that embarrassed look—not that you need it. And finally, a final coat of "fixer." She spritzed some sweet smelling stuff all over my face. " It makes the make-up completely water proof. In fact, you have to use our specially formulated cold cream to remove it."

When she finished and moved out of the way, I could finally see myself in the mirror again. I watched as my mouth dropped. I looked like a sissy doll. My face was pale, almost white. My lips were a large cupid's bow of red. My blush did give me a look of embarrassment, although it was completely unnecessary. I thought about the ridiculous, overdone ladies who sold make-up in those crisp white smocks at the department store. I had on lots more make-up than any of them. I struggled not to cry. I took short gasps of air. I had to get my composure back. I tried to think of basketball, anything.

Mom came up behind me and I could see her place her head next to mine and looked into the mirror. "What's the matter, Priscilla? Worried about what all your friends are going to say when you show off your pretty new make-up? It goes perfectly with your sissy hair-do. Just think—we're making all your disgusting little fantasies come true. Mary, we'll need everything Priscilla's wearing, and by all means Prissy must have one of your signature make-up bags for his purse."

It was too much. I couldn't let people see me like that. I'd be teased and taunted by everyone. I'd be a laughingstock. "Mom, please," I sobbed. "I can't go out in public like this."

Mom, gave me a sympathetic look as she patted a stiff, sticky curl into place. "Your right," she sighed. "I don't know what I've been thinking. You must think I've lost my mind! Imagine! Going out in public in that silly hair-do and all of that ridiculous make-up. I wouldn't dream of it."

"Thank gosh," I exclaimed. You really had me scared, and…"

"I wouldn't dream of letting you go out in public without having your ears pierced and your nails done," she smirked.

Laughing, Mary took my arm and led me to a manicure station and introduced me to the operator. I soon sported half-inch nail extensions painted a gleaming red to match my lipstick. My toes soon followed. When she was done, the operator happily pierced my ears to the cheers and jeers of Margaret and her friends.

The clerk had happily herded me to a large dressing room where we now stood. She sharply ordered me to strip and don a pair of feminine yellow panties, the frilliest and laciest I had ever seen. They had a sissy bow right in the middle of the waistband. I tried to comply, but couldn't do it. Girl's panties! It was just too humiliating. When I hesitated, the clerk undid my belt and before I knew it, my pants and underwear were at my ankles. She started hitting me all over. Once I had the stupid panties on, she gave me a pair of high-heeled mules to wear. She pointed to some ruffled pink curtains and ordered me to walk through them. Hesitantly, fearing another beating, I held my breath and walked out onto an elevated dressing platform surrounded by mirrors.

I was horrified when I saw Margaret and her friends arranged comfortably in chairs below at the front of the platform. It was as if I was putting on a private sissy fashion show. I was utterly humiliated as the girls pointed and laughed.

Margaret laughed gleefully at the effeminate image I presented. Her friends shared her delight, and Heather quickly climbed some stairs and joined me on the platform. "Priscilla, those precious panties are so you."

"Priscilla, what do you say to Heather?" Ms. Gladstone teased.

"Please! I want to go home and get out of this horrible place!"

I couldn't believe it as Heather bent me double and began raining blows on my pantied bottom.

"Stop. Please!" My bottom was on fire.

"Priscilla, dear. Good little sissies speak only when spoken to. Isn't that right?" Ms. Gladstone asked sweetly.

"Yes ma'am." My butt was still throbbing with pain. I didn't dare contradict the crazy bitch.

"There! That's better. Now sissies-especially big sissies like you-- are always excited to get pretty new panties. Why don't you do a girlish little twirl and ask Margaret and your mother to replace all your male underwear with exquisitely feminine panties like these in every color of the rainbow. Even black for when you're feeling naughty!"

I thought I was going to throw up, but I quickly complied, tears streaming down my face.

Margaret clapped her hands in glee. "This is such fun! Of course, Priscilla. I wouldn't dream of depriving my pretty, girly brother. You were born for panties. In fact, I'm going to personally see that you never wear boy's underwear ever again!"

After I had modeled and "selected" dozens of outlandishly girlish panties, Mom turned to Ms. Gladstone. "Ms. Gladstone, don't forget. I want my fairy son in some awful little foundation garments. You know, something to give him that Fifties shape. I just know he's just dying to feel more womanly," she snickered.

"But of course. I think you'll be more than satisfied with what we have for Priscilla. Amy, be a dear and dress our pantywaist in something from our Fifties Femme line.

Amy giggled her delight and led me back to the dressing area. If I thought panties were bad, things were about to get a lot worse. The clerk made me put on this heavily paneled girdle that had stupid lace appliqués and satin bows strategically placed at the legs and in the center of the waistband. I had to wiggle my butt like crazy to get the damn thing on. The bra was just as bad. It was made of this heavy satin and matched the high-waisted girdle. It wasn't like any bra I had ever seen. It had these cone-shaped cups that came to a sharp point in the front. The only good thing was that the cups were smaller than on the bathing suit I had to wear earlier in the week. As if that wasn't enough the salesgirl started putting something around my waist.

"Wh-what's this thing."

"This 'thing' is your darling new corset. You'll need it to whittle your waist down to a wasp-like size. Now hold still!"

She was working with some laces at the back and I couldn't see what she was doing. Eventually, though, she started tugging the laces, like she was tying a shoe. Fortunately, she stopped before it got too tight.

In no time, I was posing for Margaret and her friends. I wanted to curl up and die. I looked like some sissy freak!

This time it was Janey who came up on stage.

"Girls, look! Priscilla's boy thing has disappeared. He looks just like a girl down there." She rubbed the front of the girdle where my manhood would ordinarily be.

"Of course," Ms. Gladstone contributed. Sissy boys like Margaret's brother love to pretend like they don't have boy parts. Besides, I understand his little thing was hardly noticeable any way."

I tried to ignore her, but the discomfort in my groin and my waist began to increase. " Something … something's not right. This stuff is getting tighter!" I yelled.

"I imagine it might feel a little snug, particularly in the waist. It's a special fabric we developed. The girdle and corset might feel slightly uncomfortable when you first put it on, but as your body heat warms the garments, they constrict even more, squeezing you and molding you even more so that you have that unmistakable womanly figure you always dreamed of."

"Make it stop! It's cutting me in half!" I gasped at the pressure.

"Make it stop. It's cutting me in half," Margaret mocked in a singsong voice. "You're starting to sound like a sissy already." Then she pointed. "Girls, look at his waist! It's positively tiny!"

As they all pointed and laughed, Ms. Gladstone piped up, "Just wait! With dieting and constant corseting, his waist should take a permanent feminine shape in no time."

The pain was unbearable. I could hardly breathe in the evil corset I was wearing, and the girdle was literally crushing my manhood. To my dismay, the shopping expedition in sissy hell continued for another couple of hours. Every time I thought Mom and the girls were finished, there was some new humiliation or embarrassment to add to the list. Finally, Mom announced that she and Ms. Gladstone had some final business to attend to leaving me with the salesgirl to get dressed. I couldn't wait to get out of that damn corset!"

"Say! Where are my jeans? And my sneakers and stuff? I left them right here!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Do you really think those boyish things are appropriate for a girl like you?"

"Please?" I begged.

"But dearie, you look so pretty in this pink taffeta dress. And the petticoats make the tea length skirt pouf out just so. And what's more chic than high heeled pumps with a pointed toe."

I slumped as much as I could in that damn corset. Morosely, I turned to the full-length mirror. I looked like a complete pansy; like a boy playing the ultimate game of sissy dress-up. There was no mistaking what I was—a boy in a fussy, feminine dress. But the salesgirl wasn't done. She came over and added some humiliating accessories.

"A proper little lady like you should never be without her gloves when she's out in public," she giggled, threading wrist length white gloves onto my hands. "Now for your pretty purse." She handed me a large pink handbag that matched my shoes. "Of course, a sweet little angora sweater to keep those delicate shoulders warm." She placed this dainty white sweater around my shoulders and buttoned the top button, leaving my arms free. "And finally, some pretty pearls to finish your look. There! The perfect sissy socialite enjoying a day of shopping with his mommy and sister."

My face burned with embarrassment as I saw my reflection in the mirror.

I sat on the bed in my room, it was literally filled with large shopping bags, boxes, and packages…all bearing the now despised logo of The Sissy Mister: a silhouette of a boy twirling happily in a sophisticated dress. I never saw so much stuff in my life. Mom practically bought out he entire store.

At dinner, I had to listen as Mom and Margaret gleefully recounted the day's adventure. "Oh, Mom. I've never had so much fun in my life! The girls were laughing so hard, some of them actually peed in their pants. It was hilarious. Doesn't Prissy look just dreamy?"

To my chagrin, Mom remarked coldly, "He certainly does. Who would have imagined that your brother would look so pretty in a dress? He's just so precious! At least now he won't need to sneak into our things. When I put on my panties and bra this morning, I couldn't help but think that Priscilla had almost certainly worn them before." She shuddered.

"Did you arrange the classes?"

My ears perked up. I hadn't heard anything about any classes.

Mom looked at me with an evil twinkle in her eye. "He's all set! He's enrolled in the entire Forever Femme series. In the morning, we start with Sissy Deportment and Grooming. That's followed by Girl's Ballet for Boys. I just can't wait. Priscilla has to wear a tutu and tights and everything. What a pretty little ballerina boy you'll be," she laughed, pinching my cheeks. "To top it off, we finish with 'Sissy Missy Homemaker.' Priscilla will learn everything she needs to know about being a prissy little housewife. Looks like as long as we have Prissy, we'll never have to cook or clean again. Maybe having a pansy son won't be so bad after all!" Mom muttered.

And at night after "dinner," if you can call it that, I learned what all the talk was about high maintenance. After a hot shower that didn't last long enough, Mom wrapped my hair in a fluffy pink towel turban. She wrapped another one across my chest like a girl, and then dusted me all over with this yucky smelling bath powder. To my dismay, the shower hadn't budged that crap on my face, so Mom took a big glob of the cold cream and slapped it on my face. She showed me how to work it in with my fingers and then wipe it off with tissues. What a relief. I looked like my old self! All except for those faggy eyebrows.

I didn't see my face for long, because Mom started slapping on more cream, a " sissy night mask." Then, she started with my hair.

"Priscilla, watch very carefully, because tomorrow night, you're going to be doing this yourself. First, we section the hair and apply lots of this gooey setting gel—it looks like jello doesn't? Then we take a curler and start rolling, nice and tight. "

"Ouch," I snapped.

Mom just ignored me. "Then we pin it into place. See how easy that is? But look how I'm putting the curlers in neat little rows. When you do it, I better not see a loose curler or hair out of place." It took forever, but eventually my head was covered by awful pink curlers.

"Now for a lovely chiffon sleep bonnet covered with pretty ruffles to cover every thing up and leave you looking lovely. "There! You look just like a Fifties housewife getting ready to join her husband in bed. Speaking of husband, you wait right here."

I sat on my bed, dressed in the stupid nighty Margaret had insisted on. It was short, just covering the matching ruffled panties. Margaret called it a babydoll or something. Mom and Margaret strode in, and Margaret had something behind her back.

Mom started talking in her "serious" tone: "Priscilla, it's simply unforgivable the way that you mislead me and tricked me into believing you were just an ordinary boy. Imagine the embarrassment of having to hear the truth about your own son in a courtroom full of strangers."

I wanted to scream that I was the one who was embarrassed, but I had finally learned to keep my mouth shut.

"I just can't erase the image of you in that bathing suit with the cups padded out to…here!" she sputtered, holding her hands at arms length in front of her chest. Well, let's see how much you like it when you've got large, feminine breasts of your own! Won't that be fun? I can't wait until you start to blossom," she snarled. "I'm going to dress you in tight little sweaters and sheer blouses so that everyone will know that my son has his own boobies. Only these won't be pretend. I wonder what your friends will say when their former buddy has boobs? You like to wear pretty little bras? Well, you're going to need them. And by the way, if you're curious, you're going to be a very busty little sissy! And we mustn't forget plump womanly hips."

As Mom spoke, I thought my knees would buckle in shame as I thought about hat she was saying. I couldn't have breasts! I was a boy! "Mo-om, please. I don't want to have br-breasts! Nooo. I'll do anything you say. Please." I was whimpering like a child at this point.

"Oh, I know you don't want them. You want to keep your little deception going. You'll just hate having everyone see proof positive that you're a disgusting little sissy. Well, it doesn't matter. I'm going to really enjoy turning you into a boy with boobies."

Margaret was beside herself with glee. She squealed and clapped excitedly at what Mom was saying.

By now, tears were rolling down my red-hot cheeks. Mom was completely unmoved.

"Well, let's not waste any more time, shall we? Now climb on the bed and turn around. Here, rest your head on this pillow. No, stay on your knees."

Petrified, I hesitantly did as Mom ordered. It was awkward, and my ruffled butt was sticking straight in the air.

"Now just relax, dearie. You're going to love this." She slowly pulled the waistband of my panties down, leaving my bottom exposed. I figured for sure she was going to spank me, but I heard Margaret giggling and then something pushing against my anus. "What? What are you doing? S...stop!" I cried. I tried to get away, but Mom held me in place with a firm grip. "Keep your head down and don't you move a muscle, Priscilla," Mom ordered sternly.

Margaret stuck whatever it was in my bottom, and I yelped. To my horror, she began moving it in and out.

Mom mocked, "There, there. Doesn't that feel delicious? Just relax and enjoy it. If you want to moan a little, you go right ahead. Margaret and I will certainly understand. "

"Mom, no! Please stop! It hurts!" I just whimpered as Margaret increased her pace with the object. Fortunately, after a while, it felt like it was getting smaller, like it was melting. After several minutes of utter shame, Margaret shoved what was left of the object up my bottom, followed quickly by something else—bigger.

As tears streamed down my face. Mom replaced my panties and allowed me to sit up. The thing in my bottom hurt like hell. "What did you do?" I asked mournfully.

"We just gave you your first daily hormone treatment, darling. Aren't you thrilled? It's a Sissy Mister product, called Ultra-Fem. It's loaded with just oodles of estrogen and anti-testosterones. It's formulated to be especially fast acting, since we're rather anxious for you to be unmistakably womanly. Ms. Gladstone said it will grow tits on a bull," she snickered.

"Why did you put it in my bottom," I sobbed.

"It's a suppository; it's supposed to go there silly," Margaret responded. "You could get a big shot, but this is much more fun. At least, I think it is. You have to move the suppository in and out until it melts, then we just push what's left into your cute little bottom and plug you up so the medicine stays where it belongs." She grinned and gave Mom a look. "Don't you want to see what the suppository looks like?" Not waiting for my answer, she pulled out a canister and reached in. She pulled out something that was the approximate size of a candlestick. No wonder it hurt so much. She brought it closer. "Recognize the shape, brother dear? It should look familiar."

I gagged and tried hard to keep from throwing up.

"Amazingly lifelike, isn't it? And each day they get a little bigger, until they're very impressive. I guess you could say we're making you a woman in more ways than one." She cackled at her own joke, before Mom turned out the light and left me to sob quietly.

Finally it was Saturday morning. I had slept fitfully. I kept having nightmares of having boobs. In my dreams, no matter how I tried to hide them, they were obvious. Everywhere I went, people laughed and pointed. It was awful! A month ago, I would have slept in, had a stack of pancakes for breakfast, and spent the afternoon playing basketball at the park and flirting with the girls. Now, I was sitting at the breakfast table wearing an "exquisite" woman's nightgown and matching robe. The high-heeled satin mules with the marabou puff on the toe completed the horrible image. And I wasn't going to be spending the day at the park. Instead, I was scheduled for a full morning of classes at The Sissy Mister. I was mortified at the idea of learning to sit, walk, and speak like a lady, or prance about in a tutu. The knitting and sewing seemed almost tame in comparison.

"Did you have sweet dreams, darling? With ten times the amount of estrogen that real women have in their system, I bet you dreamed of boys all night. In no time, you'll have something to show off in that darling nighty. I don't know about you, but I can hardly wait."

After breakfast, the doorbell rang. Mercifully, Mom answered it. To my horror, I heard Mom and other female voices headed for the kitchen. I stood up to run, desperate for a way to escape.

"Priscilla, darling. Please don't get up on our account."

I thought I would die as Suzy walked in, followed by Heather and their mother. I couldn't move, frozen with humiliation as the females took in my sissy nightgown and robe.

"Well, aren't we the sissy temptress this morning. Did you have male company last night, dear? I always like to wear something feminine when I'm on the prowl." Ms. Johnson smirked.

I fled to my room, only to find that Margaret, Heather and Suzy followed me. "Don't you ever leave my presence without my permission, girlie," Suzy warned sternly.

"Suzy, please. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend, you pathetic girly-boy. Who else would be caught dead with a perverted little sissy like you?" Now take off that sissy nightgown; I have a little surprise for you."

Morosely, I removed the nightgown and was left standing in the matching panties and heels.

"Close your eyes, Pris, and you will get a big surprise," Suzy teased as Heather and Margaret laughed.

Happy to close my eyes against the shame, I felt Suzy force a large jar into my hands.

"You can open them now," Suzy laughed.

I opened my eyes and looked at the large jar Suzy had forced into my hands.

Margaret came over and laughed. "Oh, look, Prissy. It's that Boobsie Boy cream that you've been begging Mom for. What a lucky girl you are," she said with mock enthusiasm.

Suzy came over and unscrewed the top. "This is a special Sissy Mister concoction, Prissy. It will make your little nipples swell to a fat, feminine shape and make your little titties sooo sensitive. Go ahead, reach in and get a big handful. I got you several jars."

I stared at the pink cream. I wanted to throw the horrible crap to the floor, but the Sub-Missy Bars were doing their work. I gulped and reached in and scooped a little of the cream in my hand.

"More!" Suzy barked.

Cringing, I quickly scooped up a large handful.

"Good. Go ahead, you're not a complete ditz. You know what to do."

Swallowing hard, I slathered the perfumed cream on my nipples and "breasts." I jumped as Margaret gave me a sharp stroke with her crop. Don't forget to smile, sissy." Laughing, the girls forced me to repeat on the other side. By the time I was done, I could feel my nipples tingling. By the time Margaret handed me a pink training bra, I could see that my nipples were already swollen. Suzy gave one of my nipples a wicked little twist, and I gasped at the pain.

"A little sensitive, dearie?" she giggled. "Good. That should help remind you what a bad little sissy you've been and what we're doing to you."

After Margaret and Suzy had laughingly examined my purchases from the day before, we were back at the Sissy Mister. Soon I was learning how to " walk and sit like a little lady" and practicing how to talk with a feminine lilt. Please! The class was punctuated with the laughter and the guffaws of the spectators as they watched me and my other three classmates humiliate ourselves. Suzy was well-prepared with her camera, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see her take picture after picture.

After class, Mom and the rest of the group walked over. "Priscilla, we're going to be doing lots of homework. A big sissy like you should always act in as exaggeratedly feminine way as possible. I won't stop until you don't remember moving or talking any other way. Won't that be fun?" she teased.

Girls Ballet for Boys was next in the day's line up. I tried desperately not to think about how I looked in the silly pink girl's tutu and white tights that I wore, but a single glimpse at the laughing parents, siblings, and friends who watched the class told me all I needed to know. After recording the class on film, Mom spoke with my ballet instructor, learning for the first time that our class had a number of scheduled performances-in public! She promised to attend, and expressed her hope that I would be able to dance the lead in several of the performances, since I was "obviously the most feminine boy in class." I was crestfallen when my teacher readily agreed and assured her that I would be the featured dancer in every recital. Mom beamed her satisfaction.

I didn't see Mom or anyone else from the group during my Sissy Missy Homemaker Class. I guess it is pretty boring watching a bunch of guys in dresses learning how to cook, clean, sew, and knit. It's a good thing they weren't there, because my lack of attention earned me several blows on my bottom. After class, I saw Ms. Gladstone approaching, Suzy, Heather, Margaret, and Mom. They all looked like they had both heard a good joke.

"There's my sissy girlfriend, now" Suzy said brightly. "Priscilla, did you enjoy your morning?"

"Yeah, sure, " I said, unsuccessfully trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

Suzy's face tightened. "Your mom has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to indulge your twisted fantasies. The least you can do is be grateful! And you better put into practice what you're learning in these wonderful classes Ms. Gladstone is offering. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to pull your skirt up and spank your girdled bottom right here. Now let's try again. How was your morning?"

My bottom was still sore from the night before, and I certainly didn't want to be spanked in front of everyone. I tried to remember how we had practiced talking in class. I took a deep gulp. " Oh, Suzy! I had so much fun! I practiced how to act like a little lady, and I think I'm really getting the hang of it. And I just love ballet class. I feel so pretty when I'm dancing. And in Sissy Missy Homemakers class, I'm learning how to knit. Soon, I can knit myself lots of soft, pretty sweaters."

Suzy turned to Mom and laughed. "I guess Priscilla just needed a little incentive to tell the truth."

At home, Mom did some redecorating. "Ta da! Isn't it darling? I got some old stuff out of storage. This was my furniture when I was a girl your age. Don't you just love it? I always hated it; I thought it was horribly girly, so I figured it'd be perfect for you."

The room was positively disgusting. It just oozed femininity. Everything was dripping with ruffles, bows, and lace. Ornate dolls were everywhere. A sickeningly sweet perfume hung in the air. In the corner of the room, I could see my reflection in the full length mirror; a very unhappy sissified boy.

Suzy gushed about the room and how lucky I was. Apparently, I wasn't being enthusiastic enough. Margaret smirked, "I guess he needs lots more estrogen in his system to really appreciate it."

"Margaret, no!" I begged for all I was worth, but in no time, Suzy was happily poking me with a Femmy Formula suppository. The humiliation of having my former love interest violate me like that while everyone laughed was more than I could bear. When they were done, I noticed Heather had her camera.

"Don't worry, Priscilla. I got lots of pictures to show everyone. You can give some to your friends!"

For "fun", the girls ordered me to put my "pretty suit" on and spend the day sun tanning –alone this time. "Use a lot of lotion, and don't forget your fake boobs or your pretty hat," Margaret snickered.

I hated dressing up in the girly get-up again. The worst of it was that Margaret, Heather and Suzy sat on my bed and watched, and there was nothing I could do about it. Quietly, I made my way out to the pool. Maybe Margaret and Mom would get tired of their game if I did as they said for a couple of days. I lay back on the lounge chair, my new "twins" protruding in the air, and closed my eyes. In the warm sun, I found myself dozing.

"Well, well. Don't we look pretty?"

I jerked out of my daze. Shit! Tad Cravitz! "Tad! What are you doing here?" Desperate to cover myself, I slipped into the cover up.

"How chic! Bows are soooo feminine."

"Very funny, Tad. Look, this is not what you think I can explain…"

"Oh, there's no need to explain, sweetie. If you want to prance around the pool looking like Betty Page, I understand."

I cringed under Tad's lustful gaze. Tad Cravitz wasn't the only gay kid I knew, but he was the only one who was so obnoxious about it. I couldn't stand him—not because he was gay; I didn't care about that. It was because he was an arrogant jerk. "Very funny, Tad. It's, it's not like that."

I saw you with Margaret and her friends a couple of weeks ago. You looked so pathetic, with them bossing you around an hitting you where it hurts the most."

I knew I had heard someone that day. I looked around conspiratorially. "Margaret's been giving me this stuff that made me really weak. She and her bitchy friends forced me to cooperate."

"Really," Tad chuckled with a smirk. "Really weak?"

Tad's eye gleamed as I began to shuffle nervously.

"So if I did this, you couldn't do anything to stop me?" He grabbed my arm and twisted viciously.

"Oowww! Tad, stop! You're hurting me!"

"My, you are a pathetic little thing, aren't you? Now tell me everything, and don't leave anything out!" He gave my arm an extra twist.

Wincing in pain, I told him everything. When I hesitated or tried to argue with him, he twisted my arm harder. He was even stronger than Margaret, and even more heartless. Finally, as I burst into tears, he let me go with a laugh.

"Don't cry, Priscilla. I've got to give Margaret credit. She's done an amazing job on you. From boy to bathing beauty-- I can't wait to spread the news," he said snidely. He looked pensive and started grinning evilly. "You know, the country club dance is next weekend. I think I've found a date."

"A date?" He had to be kidding!

"Yes, darling. But I expect my dates to be enchanting, vivacious …and pretty."

"But ...but I'm not gay and you know it!"

"I don't care," he shrugged. I could really care less if you're attracted to me. What counts is what I like, and I must say, the idea of Mr. Straight Laced Goody-Goody all dolled up like a glamour queen is very exciting. I bet Margaret would agree."

I pleaded with him, but he was unmoved. Finally, my face red with embarrassment, and tears of frustration running down my face, I said 'yes.'

"I thought you'd agree."

Before I could react, Tad embraced me and gave me a huge kiss. I struggled to get away, but he was too strong." He turned and let through he gate, but I could still hear him laughing. Instinctively, I saw my mother, Margaret, Suzy and Heather all pointing and laughing at me in the window.

 

The memories of that summer still haunt me, but it was time to come back to reality. I heard the loud giggling of the Margaret as she adjusted my veil.

"Aren't you excited, Priscilla? Your sissy dreams are all coming true. Just think! After today, you'll be Mrs. Tad Cravitz! I peeked in the church. Tad looks so big and handsome up there. And don't worry! All your former friends, teachers, and coaches are here to see you mince down the aisle. It was sooo sweet of you to have Suzy be your maid of honor, but I guess she is the one who made sure that you did everything necessary to keep Tad interested in you. You're so lucky Tad's going to let you work as his secretary for a while before he makes you stay at home and keep house. After all, with your womanly hips and double d's, you look so chic in your tight little pencil skirts and matching angora twin sets. And I must say, I love your hair in this huge bouffant flip. My, you must go through a lot of hairspray. Don't worry, I've packed all your new nighties for your honeymoon. How excited you must be! I thought it was a little much for Mom to ask Tad to film your wedding night, but he was enthusiastic about it. He said it was going to a double feature. You better wipe those tears away right now, Missy. Save them for when you say, "I do!"

  

  

  

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