Probationed Into Panties

Penned by: Miss Deborah (Debi) Leigh Johnson

 

One

The Court Day

 

I was scared, and I do not mind admitting it. So far, all of the trouble that I had gotten myself into over the last three weeks, had all seemed kind of like a dream, and not at all real. But, here was the reality. This is where the rubber meets the road, as the adage goes. This was it. I had no options but to face what was coming, and I was terrified.

I sat on the very hard and uncomfortable straight-backed wooden bench in the hallway, just outside the huge squeaky swinging doors leading into the confines of courtroom 4. The empty sounding echoing of many feet of many strangers on the shiny tiled floor of the hallway did nothing to ease my nerves either. I'd never felt so alone and empty and frightened in my short little life.

My cute sister, who was two years older than my sixteen years, was sitting supportively with me. When I say she was cute, I mean she was really cute. Sarah had a head of unrealistically thick blond hair that fell in big waves to her shoulders. Her flawless skin was also beautiful. It was so soft looking and blemish free almost alabaster white. Under the light blond eyebrows were her large round and seemingly penetrating hazel blue eyes.

They really did seem to penetrate right into me whenever she looked into my eyes too. I was not the only one who thought that. I'd heard other guys same the same thing about when she looked at them too. And at the same time, her gaze conveyed to the beholder, a sense of her complete innocence in worldly matters. In other words, she made you feel vulnerable, but she made you melt at the same time. You felt weak and exposed, and yet you wanted to protect her all at the same time.

Right now, all that I could see in her eyes was her deep felt concern for me, following my foolishness. That sort of made me feel a bit better about things but not very much better, I will admit. I was deep in it, and I knew it.

The empty marble hall ways echoed with the sounds of all the people, seen and unseen, who were also gathered to receive or to help to administer the justice of the courts to our societal miscreants. It was scary to me. It was scary, because I knew that I was one of those miscreants.

At this very moment, my parents were in the courtroom and having a private conversation with the lawyers, the social workers and the probation officer. I knew that I had no one to blame for my predicament by myself. I had done what I had done, and I had been caught, through my own foolishness.

Kick myself? Certainly I have kicked myself over and over again, in my own mind.

Maybe I should explain?

About seven weeks ago, we moved to this new city. Because of my small stature, and when I say small, I mean small. In fact, I am often mistaken for being my pretty sister, even when people are looking right at my face, not to mention on the telephone. That is what I mean by small stature. I was not built like a normal guy is built. In my old home, everyone knew me, so I could live with my physicality. Not here though. This was different for me.

The guys in the neighbourhood did not really want to hang around with a guy that looked so much like his beautiful sister. The sister, they wanted. The brother who looked like her? Forget it. None of the girls seemed to be too interested in me either. The only interest they showed in me was to find out what I did to make my hair and my skin look so pretty.

Well, for those reasons, I soon became very lonely, desperately lonely.

After a few weeks of this unbearable treatment and loneliness, I sort of drifted into the down town areas of the inner city. There I found acceptance, from the all-accepting of everything street wise youth. True, some of them tried to hit on me, like I was a girl, but when they learned that I was not gay, they let me go my own ways, and they treated me like a regular guy. Most of them did anyway. Some of them still wanted me to be their girlfriend it you can believe it. It was scary, but at least I was amongst some friends.

That is what I thought, anyway.

I was even starting to get along pretty good with one of the smaller and cuter chicks in the gang. This was what I needed for my fragile ego that had become rather shattered over the previous weeks. I will admit, and so would most guys who know her that Sharon was to die for, as far as I was concerned. Best of all though, she really did seem to like me. We talked a lot. We talked so much, that one of her friends, a hot chick by the name of Kelly, had even jokingly accused me of trying to become Sharon's little sister.

Sharon had really laughed at that, and I sort of did too, because I did not want Kelly or Sharon to be mad at me. But the comment had stung deeply and once again I cursed myself for my lot in life. But life went on.

Three weeks earlier, I was challenged to belong to the gang. The first test was to accept a beating. I admit that I hate pain with a passion, but I wanted to have friends, and I wanted to try and impress Sharon, in the hopes that she would be interested in me for more than just long talks.

So, on the appointed afternoon of my induction into the gang, I showed up at the abandoned warehouse, and soon found out that all the gang was there, waiting for me. It was a really big thing to be initiated into the family. Of the fourteen kids that were gathered there to witness my beating, four of them were selected to do the beating.

To my chagrin, the guys agreed that because I was so small and just too cute for a real guy's induction that it would not really be fair for them to beat on me. They selected, much to my chagrin, four of the chicks instead, thinking that the chicks would beat me like they would beat another chick, and that it would not be quite so bad for me.

Needless to say, I protested that I wanted to be treated like any of the other guys. But the chicks relished the idea of getting to beat the shit out of a guy, even a guy like me. They argued their point and they won.

So, I stood there awaiting my fate, and was soon surrounded by four beautiful and very mean looking chicks, decked out in their colours and their tight denim wear. The first thing that I felt was the shot to the back of my head. That shot was very quickly followed by a raining down of hurtful blows. They fell all over me. I sank to my knees, trying very hard not to cry from the pain. The chicks spared me not in the least. I was on the verge of tears in seconds.

The initiation beating lasted for nearly half an hour. By the end of that time, I could hardly move, and I was wracked with the pain administered by the stud fisted leather gloves that the girls wore, and from the kicks from their high heeled and pointed toed boots.

But, I did manage not to cry. I had accepted the beating, and so I was accepted into the family. I was proud that I had not cried like a sissy.

The successful indoctrination was followed by a celebration. It almost made the pain of the severe beating seem to be worth it all. The pain eased as the beer and wine flowed into me. It flowed too much. It was the first time that I had ever gotten really drunk.

And I had gotten so drunk, that I had difficulty walking. That was the first incident.

The police had found me wandering around, trying to find my way home. I had gotten lost. They smelled the booze on my breath, and noted the bruises all over my face and arms. They had taken me to the hospital for medical treatment.

Once the doctors had determined that there was nothing more serious with me than some very painful bruises, and the potential for a very painful headache, the police took me to the police station. I was charged with being intoxicated in a public place, and for drinking while under age. They did not charge me for the escape attempt.

My parents were not too happy about coming down to the police station in the middle of the night, to pick up their wayward son. I was not too happy about having being forced to wait for them to come and get me. I was also not too pleased about the pain that the entire surface of my skin seemed to have been inflicted with. But, I had survived.

I was remanded by the justice of the peace for a court date. I was remanded to my parent's custody.

It took me about three days before I felt good enough to make my way back down town, to meet once again with my newly found family members. This time, I was delighted to find that I was accepted just like any of the other gang members, and it made me feel really good.

Sharon told me that as far as they were concerned, I had become part of the family, no matter what kind of person that I was, because I had accepted their initiation.

I asked her what that meant, and she just smiled and told me that anyone who accepted the initiation could not be kicked out of the gang for any reason, ever. The gang would always be there for me, no matter what I did.

Puzzled, but not really wanting to press the issue, I just accepted what she said, and we went to the coffee shop for a Danish and coffee. Some of the other kids came in too. I was teased about the discolouration on my face and arms, but it was all a very good-natured kind of bantering. It was also commented on that no one knew the chicks were capable of handing out such punishment.

I knew that I was really one of them now. I was treated differently than I had been treated before the initiation.

None of the gang were surprised to hear about my being arrested. To them, it was just one of the factors of the life they lived. Arrests were a normal part of their (our) life styles.

Unfortunately, my next arrest came that very night.

Two of the guys, Jake and Zeke wanted to break into a sporting goods store, because they wanted to get some archery equipment. They told me that a guy was willing to give them two hundred bucks for the stuff, if they could get him three new bows and a supply of arrows. They told me that they needed the money to pay their rent.

I agreed to go along with the idea, mostly because I wanted to continue with the good feelings of their acceptance that I was enjoying. We passed the time, waiting for the store to close and for darkness to fall, by drinking some cheap wine. Not having had enough experience with this sort of thing (wine) to know my own limits, I again drank too much.

I was plastered and I ended up being the last one to drag myself out the back of the store we had broken into. Jake and Zeke, knowing their limits had not gotten so drunk as I had. I had drunk less than they had, but I guess because my body was so much smaller than theirs were that it affected me more than I had anticipated.

They had managed to make good their escape, as soon as they had heard the sirens nearing.

I had not been as smart as they had been.

I staggered out through the door, expecting to slink into the shadows and hide. What I slunk into was the hairy arms of a gigantic sweaty smelling cop. He'd gone to the back alley before his buddies had started on the front door. I was stupid enough to walk right into his arms. In the darkness of the alley, in his dark blue uniform, I had not even seen him in the shadows as he waited for me.

Once again, my parents were called, in the early hours of the night. I was escorted home once again by a rather furious mother and a raging father. They talked to me all night long, trying to get some kind of understanding of what was happening to their previous to this, 'Grade A' student of a son.

The clincher though, came about a week later. I was dared by some of the girls, to go into a department store, and shop lift some of the new styled bras for them. They laughingly promised me that they would jack me off, if I got them some of the new gel bras. I was stupid enough to believe them, and so I headed into the store. I had a list of the sizes and style names that they wanted me to get for them. I felt confident at the prospect of having the hot looking chicks jacking me off.

Not knowing any better, I wandered between the racks and racks of lingerie, till I found what I was looking for. I pulled out my list, and started to select the items that were on the list. I also thought that I might even ingratiate myself even more to the sexy young women, if I included some pairs of pretty matching silk and lace panties, and so I did. I had an armful of bra boxes, and packs of pastel coloured panties.

I was not aware that a girlish looking boy, in a lingerie department, looking as though he did not know what he was doing, was certain to attract the attentions of the store defective, oh... Sorry... Store detective... But I had attracted the attentions of said detective. She was a huge woman, and she just wanted to catch me. I guess that I was her quota maker for the week or something.

I nervously looked around, and could see no indication that I had been under surveillance. I took the packages and slowly wandered into other departments, in the hopes that I would be mistaken for being a real shopper. After three other departments, I was reasonably sure that I could dash through the swinging doors, and make it out to the gang that would be waiting for me.

Little did I realise that Ms. Granger was waiting for me to do just exactly that.

I made it through the door, and started to breathe easily, when I sensed the huge arms that were wrapping themselves around my chest. The arms crushed my rib cage. Before I could catch the next breath, I was lifted from my feet, and carried back into the store, through the curious crowds of shoppers, and I was soon deposited in a hard backed chair in the store's sparsely furnished security office.

I was shaking in fear. Ms. Granger called the police, and stayed with me to make sure that I did not try to sneak off, till after the police arrived. I knew that there was going to be hell to pay.

Scared witless, for the third time in less than a month, I was soon finding myself in a holding cell in the police station once again. This time, when my parents were called, they were informed that there was no point in coming down to get me, as the JP had decided to remand me into custody.

I spent two of the most miserable fear filled days of my life in that jail. It got horrible hour by hour, but it was especially bad after the story broke in the newspaper that I had been arrested with almost $600 worth of teenaged girl's lingerie that I had stolen.

Boy, did I have to do some fancy talking to convince the burly characters in my dorm that the lingerie that I had stolen was not for my own personal use. They were convinced that a girly boy like me must love to wear pretty panties and cute little dresses. For a few hours, I had hands all over me almost constantly. I'd never been so scared and felt so out of control in my life.

I nearly got raped twice. I had numerous offers to give blowjobs too. It was only because of the alertness of the guards that I was not raped and beaten. Though they kept a watchful eye out for me, more than once I heard them refer to me as the girly kid. I had never been so scared in my short little life. I had learned my lesson.

The entire time in the dorm was nothing but an experience in terror for me. I was constantly warned that I was going to get fucked at the slightest opportunity. I made sure to stay in the brightly lit areas of the cellblock as much as possible. I dreaded going to the bathroom. The only time that I felt somewhat safe was when I was locked into my own cell at night, and even then I would have to endure the chants and fantasies of the cellmates living next to me. More than once, I was asked if I wanted one of their sisters to bring me in a pair of panties to wear.

By the time that I was released to be taken to the court for my hearing, I was nearly in tears. The guys all knew it too, and I was teased unmercifully for being such a prissy little sissy.

I determined that I would be willing to do anything to avoid going back to that place. I had learned my lessons well.

Two

My parents were not the most supportive of me, when they saw me again for the first time in a few days. I guess that I can not really blame them. They had decided that they were going to just let me stew in my own juices for a while, in the hopes that I would correct my behaviours. They had no idea of the hell I had just come out of though, and I had no chance to convince them that their troubles with me were over.

They were, for the first time in my life, very cold towards me. Their uncharacteristic coldness scared me, and made me feel like I was really alone, in my life. My sister Sarah was the only one who was nice to me that day. My heart melted with thankfulness for her kindness towards me. Sometimes girls are like that.

I'd spent nearly the entire morning in the courtroom's sweatbox being nearly as terrified by that experience, as I had in the cellblock. The sweatbox is a plywood holding cell with a steel bench around the walls that will hold up to ten people. There were six of us in there. It was called the sweatbox because it got so hot in there.

One by one, the other prisoners were taken out to face the judge. One by one, they were brought back into the sweatbox. When they came back, they were pissed. Most of them had just been sentenced to jail time, and they were looking for a reason to unload on someone.

I was extremely careful to not give them any reasons to unload on me. The emotion of anger and fear was so strong in that sweatbox, that you could almost cut it with a knife. I was scared witless. I nearly cried all the time that I was in there. I was seeing masculinity in a way that I had never seen it before. It frightened me. Men frightened me now.

I had seen no familiar faces in the last three days. The only three somewhat friendly faces that I had seen were that of the duty council lawyer who was assigned to defend me, and that of the probation officer, who was with the social worker. They were to interview me, and make their pre sentencing recommendations to the judge before I went before him.

At long last the bars opened again and the officer called out my name as I had been called into the courtroom.

I nearly shit in my pants because the atmosphere in the room was so intimidating. I was led to a bannistered area, and told to face the judge. Standing there, I had to vocally admit to him that I had been guilty of all of the charges, which had amounted to eleven charges by that time. Then I was directed to sit on the hard straight-backed chair that was in the little boxed in area.

The judge was not too impressed with me. He also told me that he did not think too highly of young boys who felt that they had a need to steal girl's lingerie. He did not ask me what I was going to do with it, fortunately. He did not even ask my why I was stealing. With a sense of horror, it dawned on me that he might think that I was stealing it for myself, like the guys in the cellblock and intimated to me.

Because I had not wanted to involve the girls who had instigated the crime, I had told the police officers that I had stolen the lingerie for myself, to sell to raise some cash. I had thought that it was the wisest thing to do at the time.

After all, one of the golden rules that the gang lived by was that you do not rat for any reason, and I still did not want to lose their friendships.

I had not thought though of what the consequences of that kind of admission might lead to. I just wanted to remain a part of the gang.

I felt about three inches high as I stood there under the judge's stern almost angry gaze, as he told me what he thought of boys being in possession of lingerie, especially stolen lingerie. I knew that he was telling the world in essence that as far as he was concerned, I was a fag. But unless I wanted to rat out the girls, I had no other choice but to hear his words and not try to raise any defence against his accusations of my supposed perversity.

My parents were appalled by his words, and I could see that they were beginning to look at me with very different eyes than they had ever looked at me with, before that horrible morning before the judge. I knew that they were going to believe him, and not believe me.

I felt utterly abandoned. I had managed to lose any credibility that I had ever had with my parents.

There was some discussion between the lawyers, the probation officer and the social worker before I was declared to not be a threat to the community. And so I was remanded into the custody of my parents. I was told to wait outside in the hallway with my sister, while the adults completed discussing my fate.

The judge seemed to be quite convinced that I was at a pivotal point in my life, and he did not want to make any decisions with out more consultations. He seemed to feel that I could go either way at this point in my life, and he did not want me taking a negative path.

Thus, I had ended up out on the bench, with my lovely sister. Sarah was very loving in showing her care and concern about me. All I wanted was to crawl into a crack in the floor and disappear, but that could not happen.

"Denzil?"

"Yeah Sarah?" I was miserable, and I would have preferred for her to not even talk to me, but I knew that things at home would be bad enough, without alienating her affections too. I decided it was best to put aside my feelings, and respond to her caring for me.

"Uhhh... I need to know something. Were… Were you going to wear all those things that you stole?"

I stared up at her, incredulous that she could even ask me a thing like that. "What? Wear them? Are you nuts? I ain't no fag. I'll tell you the truth, but you got to promise me that you will not to tell anyone else, okay?"

"Okay Denz... I promise not to tell anyone else."

I told her all about the gang initiation. I told her all about my frustrations and loneliness over the last few weeks. I told how desperately I had wanted to please the pretty gang girls, and how I had agreed to steal that stuff for them, in order to get along better with the chicks.

Sarah seemed to understand. I felt that I had her trust. But then, she also went on and told me that if I ever feel like I wanted to wear stuff like that again, that I should use her stuff instead of going out and risking arrest by stealing it.

I was astounded. She had not believed a word that I had told her. I nearly broke down and cried as I heard her speaking to me. The one person who was supposed to know me better than anyone else in the world, had thought that I had stolen the bras and panties, so that I could wear them myself.

I shuddered at how alone and misunderstood I had become. What would I do now?

Worse than that though, as I sat there, and for the very first time in my life, I actually considered wearing my cute sister's clothes. I could not stop myself from looking at her cute feminine outfit, and wonder what it would feel like to wear something like that all day long. I wondered, though it was against my own will, what kind of panties and bra that she was wearing, and how it felt to wear them. She was so cute and so feminine that I almost yearned to know what it felt like to be like that.

I felt excited by the idea. I actually got a hard on, much to my shame. I hid it, but I knew that it was there, and I knew why it was there.

I hated myself for it. But the more that I looked at her sitting there in her pretty suit jacket and matching short skirt, in the soft baby blue colour, with her white silk blouse, I wondered what it would feel like to wear it too. I knew that I wanted to wear it. I knew that I wanted to feel what she felt when she wore such a pretty thing.

The fleeting thought occurred to me though that if I were really a girl and not a boy who looked like a girl, that I would have no acceptance problems. If I looked half as good as my sister and had half as good a disposition, then I would be a very popular girl. People would want me to be around them. I would not have to go looking for friends, they would be seeking me out. I blew the thought out of my mind.

As I sat there, I actually contemplated telling her that I would like to try her pretty suit on. I knew though that I if I did, I would be like any other fag might want to wear girl's clothes. I had enough trouble with acceptance, without being a fag on top of it all too.

I hated myself as I sat there, my psyche ripped apart by these strange and fascinating ideas. But I also wondered if Sarah, sitting there, looking so pretty in her lovely suit, wondered if I had worn her suit before. The idea that she might think that I had worn her clothes before made me feel so ashamed of what I had become reduced to. She was such a feminine girly kind of girl, and the thought of being like that too was strangely intoxicating to me.

"Sarah? You... You think that I wear your clothes, Sarah?" I asked with a hushed voice.

"Well, you would not be the first guy in the world that liked wearing his sister's clothes. And... Besides that... You are built an awful lot more like a girl than a boy… You have to admit that. And I know that you would make a really pretty girl, Denzil. Lots of times, people who do not know if you are my brother ask me who the cute chick is. All I am saying is this. Promise me that before you try stealing girl's clothes again, that you will wear mine instead, okay?"

I stared at her. She really believed that I liked wearing her clothes... I did not want to fight with her. I did not want her to be mad at me. I also wanted her to feel better about me too. I would need her friendship when we got back home, I knew. I felt that it would be smarter to just go along with her, rather than risk a fight with her.

"Okay Sarah."

"Okay what? I want to hear you promise me, Denzil... Promise me..."

"Okay. You win. I promise you that before I ever try to steal any more girl clothes, that I will wear yours instead, okay? Satisfied?"

She grinned and threw her arms around me. She was relieved. My promise, the first untrue thing that I had told her that day, was the only thing that I had told her that she had actually believed. Not only that, she seemed to kind of like the idea of her little brother dressing up in her pretty clothes. I wondered if she was going to try and get me into dresses from now on.

I hoped not, sort of.

What I feared the most was that I would really like wearing them. I feared that I would like looking so feminine and girly.

"I hope that you let me see how you look sometime, when you are dressed as a girl?"

'When I was dressed as a girl?' It dawned on me then what she was referring to. I felt it best to just go along with her. I nodded and blushed, and stared at the floor for the next few minutes, trying to understand the pattern I detected in the marble.

But, the very idea that she might think that I actually liked to be a girl, and to wear her clothes really made me feel funny inside. The more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder about what it would really feel like to wear her frilly little silk panties, and her nylon stockings, and all that other feminine stuff. Not only that, what would it feel like if my dad and mom ever saw me wearing Sarah's clothes. I would just die.

I thought about it, and I decided that the next time that I found myself all alone at home for a few hours, that I was going to try it. I would get myself dressed up in her clothes, maybe even that pretty suit and blouse that she was wearing at that moment, and I would just t see what it would feel like.

I knew and was afraid that I was going to like wearing girl's clothes. I was also afraid that I was going to like looking in the mirror, and seeing a reflection of my cute sister there, instead of me. I just knew that I would look like I was her sister. I would be just as cute and just as femmy as she was.

I continued to glance at her, from lidded eyes. I noted the way her skirt hem slid over the nyloned thighs, just above her knees, and I wondered what kind of slip she was wearing, if any. Once in a while, when she would turn to look at something down the hallway, her jacket would open up. I would see the lacy trimming of her bra, or slip, and I would wonder what it would feel like to feel her intimate clothes on me like that. I wondered how it would feel for me to know that other people saw me wearing those kind of pretty clothes. I blushed in shame.

All the men I had met in the last few days all thought I'd be a fabulous girlfriend if I let them dress me up all pretty.

Maybe this was really the source of my problems that I wanted to be a girl? I shuddered.

Worse, I began to wonder what it would feel like, to have some other guy, just like me, sitting there just like I was, and seeing the lacy bodice on me, through the sheerness of that blouse, in the same way that I was seeing it on Sarah. I shuddered again.

I wanted to know what it felt like to be looked at, as if I was really a pretty girl like my sister was.

Finally, after what seemed like many hours, Sarah and I were asked to return to the courtroom.

It looked just as fearful a climate as it had the first time. I made my way back to the seat that was surrounded by the wooden banisters, where I had been before, and when I was directed to, I sat down.

The judge looked even more stern and fearsome than he had before, if that was at all possible. You cold almost feel the strength of his authority from the bench. I was sure that it was in my own imagination.

"Young man, you are at a critical turning point in your life right now. You can go either way from this point on. It is the job of this court to try and influence the direction you are about to travel in, and hopefully in a way that will not see you returning to this courtroom, as a defendant again.

I have had a lot of consultation from your lawyer, input from your parents, from the social services department, and from the probation office.

It is our collective opinion that if you were incarcerated, and I must admit that I personally think that your behaviour over the last few weeks would certainly justify that option as a sentence, would not in your case be of any real benefit to you. As well, as the youth services that we have in this city are way over taxed as it is, I have been convinced to try an alternative kind of sentencing for you.

Bear in mind though, that this is your decision to make. You are going to be given the choice of two punishments, and whichever one you choose, I will accede to your choice.

I am aware that you are under a great deal of a sense of rejection at this present time, that you have not had an easy time of adjusting to your new living situation in this city. Your parents have convinced me that much of your rejection is because of your small, girlish stature. I can understand that. It is not something that you could have any control over either. So much is the pity. Life is hard enough for a boy of your age, without having to deal with rejection because you also happen to be such a late bloomer in life too.

I understand that you were willing to go to some very severe lengths in order to find acceptance, and by this I refer to your willingness to let this street gang beat you rather severely. Yes, we have read the medical reports. Because of this, I am convinced that your sense of rejection is far deeper than that of just wanting a social life in your new city. I feel that it can be a serious source of trouble for you, if something is not done about it.

You probation officer has also convinced me that you are not really a threat to society, but that you could become one. Again, I refer to your willingness to endure that kind of beating to gain acceptance to a gang. If you are that determined to gain acceptance, there is probably no limits to what you would be willing to do in order to gain acceptance for yourself. This is not a good sign as far as I am concerned.

I have also listened to your social worker. She is of the opinion that you may also be struggling with gender disorientation or confusion, and or gender dysphoria. That, compounded with the fact that you were caught shop lifting girl's lingerie, which you have voluntarily claimed was for your own uses, convinces me that she has made some valid assessments as to the state of your psychology.

I have consulted with your parents, and they have agonised over you, and they are willing to try an experiment, if you will agree to it too.

You have two choices young man. You can choose to go back to the holding cells, and be sent out to a reform school for first time offenders, though you really are not a first time offender any more. If that is your choice in that case, I would sentence you to stay there till your eighteenth birthday. I shudder to think what might happen to you if you were thrown into such a society, and so I am willing to be convinced that this is not in your best interest, and will not produce a productive member of society.

The other option is this one. We have come to the conclusion that your main problem is one of not accepting yourself. We are willing to experiment a bit, and endeavour to force you to accept and become comfortable with your gender disorientation, and we hope that you will come out of the experience, able and willing to lead a productive crime free life.

I will, if you are acceptable, sentence you to live at home with your parents, with the provision that you will not be allowed to wear any masculine clothing for a period of at least eighteen months, the same length of time as a sentence to the reformatory, but not to extend beyond your eighteenth birth day, unless of course you choose to do so.

Your parents have agreed to this stipulation. They are willing to do anything to keep you out of jail. I commend you for having such loving parents. You are not like most of the youngsters that I see coming through these doors. I hope that you can appreciate that fact.

Now, this is what will happen. You will leave here, and by this evening, you will be dressed from the skin out in you're your feminine clothes. You will not be allowed to wear any male clothes for at least eighteen months. During this time, you will be under the supervision of your probation officer, and he will take it upon himself to arrange for counselling for you, for gender disorientation.

You will be expected to act in a manner that is according to a young lady in today's society. I will however warn you that your parents will have a great deal of influence in whether or not your return to stand before me. If they feel that you are not respectful to them or the rules of the home they provide you, they can request your return to stand before me and I will forthwith send you to the reformatory, no discussion about it. So choose wisely young man.

If you renege in any way to not comply with this sentence, it will be revoked, and you will be remanded to the custody of the reform school. Those are your choices. Choose which one you will accept.

Do you have any questions?"

I was absolutely astounded. I looked around at the faces that were staring back at me.

I had a choice, become a girl, or go to jail. What kind of choice was that? Especially given some of the thoughts I had been having only scant minutes before? I could hardly believe it. I was going to be ordered by the court, to become a girl, in order to not be sent to jail? I… I could hardly believe it. I was going to have to wear pretty clothes.

"I... Uhhh... I will... I will have to become a girl or go to jail? There is no decision to make. I will be a girl if I have to, to stay out of jail." I tried to make it sound like it was a disgusting idea to me. I did not want anyone to guess at how I really felt, especially if it was to show up in public court records.

"I suspect that you are making a very wise choice, young man. I do not even pretend to understand what would drive a person like yourself to accept complete effemination as opposed to going to jail and retaining your masculine identity, but I am willing to accept your decision. As I said, I believe that the institution would destroy the character that you have developed so far.

Now, things are going to be very hard for you. I am willing to make them somewhat easier for you. With your parent's acceptance, I am now signing a court order that will change your name to that of Deborah Leigh Johnson. So, until such a time as your return to this court for a reversal of this order, your legal name is Deborah Leigh Johnson. It will be illegal for you to use any other name. Is this understood?"

"Yes sir." I was astounded. I watched him sign me into a girl's name, and name that it would be illegal for me not to use now. If I refused to use it, I would be breaking one more law, and I would end up in the reform school anyway.

I am also signing a statement of intent that will be kept in your file. This statement of intent advises anyone that has a concern to know about it, like your school guidance counsellor, that you have come before me. It advises that I have found you to be suffering from severe gender dysfunction, and that you are ordered by this court to assume the life style and the societal role of a normal female of your age.

This will pave the way for you to be able to attend school as a girl. I understand that your parents cannot afford to send you to a private school, or a private teacher, so I am afraid that you will have no choice but to return to your own school. The fact that this court is ordering you to go to school dressed as a girl should make things much easier for you to deal with.

If you have to, you can say that you do not have a choice about what you wear any more. In a sense, I suppose that this is a true enough statement. But none the less, you will be required to conduct yourself at all times as a young lady. Failure to do so will result in swift actions by this court, I can assure you.

I am also signing a request to the school board to exempt you from physical education, and to extend to you special privileges, such as allowing you to use the rest room in the teacher's lounge, rather that the regular girls rooms. I hope that they will agree to this request, and I can see no reason why they would not agree to it.

Now, school starts again in about five days. If I were you, I would try very hard over the next few days to learn as much as you are humanly possible to learn about being a young lady, lady being the operative word here. The more that you act like a girl, the less resistance you are going to have in society. The more convincing you are as a young lady, the more acceptance you will have as a young lady. I hope that you understand your need to co-operate?

Let me just remind you son... Uhhh... Young lady, that any breech of your probation, and you will be sent to the reform school, with no more questions asked. This is a condition of your probation, and if your probation officer advises this court that you are not in compliance, I will issue an arrest warrant for you. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I do not want to see you before me again. Good bye, and be a good girl, for your own sake."

With that, as though in a stunned dream, I was ushered by my parents out of the justice building, and into their car. I sat in the back seat with Sarah. She tried very hard not to be too excited about the fact that she had just gained a brand new sister, a sister that she had always wanted to have, but I could tell that she was really cranked up about the whole idea.

My parents only advised me that if I did not behave as an obedient and respectful young lady, that they would not hesitate to report my disobedience to my probation officer, and see me sent to the reform school. They let me know in no uncertain terms, that I was only living with them on a trial basis, till I was able to regain their confidences in me. I believed what they said too.

I understood, and I was afraid. I had never seen them so angry about anything in my life before. Yes, I was really scared. I knew that for a few months, eighteen anyway, that I would have to walk on egg shells around them, if I wanted to keep myself out of reform school.

I thought back what it was like for the last few days, and the idea of reform school was absolutely terrifying to me.

I could not imagine the hell it would be like, to be subject to the kinds of guys that I had met in the jail. I knew that I would be a perfect little lady, if that is what it would take to keep me out of the reform school. I would be the kind of girl that any parent would be proud to call their daughter.

I hoped that I could pull it off. I was pretty sure that Sarah was going to do all that she could to help me.

 

Three

When we finally arrive at home, mom told Sarah to lead me into her bathroom, and to run a bath for me. She asked if Sarah would be willing to help me with my effemination, and Sarah told me that she would love to turn me into her little sister. She told me that we were going to have so much fun, and that all little girls had always dreamed of what it would be like to have a living doll to play with. I was the doll and she was going to make me so pretty.

Resignedly, I followed her to her bathroom. I took my clothes off, sensing a sense of loss, knowing that I would not be able to wear them again for at least eighteen months. I trembled not only with the fear of the unknown, but the fear that I was going to love being a girl.

I was directed to completely cover myself with horrible smelling Nair, though I had almost no body hair in the first place. I was covered from my chin down in the stuff. Then I spent a very boring twenty minutes standing in my sister's bathroom, waiting for the chemical to do its work on my body hair. After a few minutes, I could feel a slight burning almost tingling sensation all over me. I was not even allowed to lower my arms. It was most uncomfortable, but I figured that it was better to suffer this than to getting some guy's cock rammed up into me.

When the twenty minutes had passed, Sarah told me to take a warm shower, and to use her washcloth to remove the hair. She warned me though that I had to wash myself gently and to be careful not to rub my skin with the cloth. I was astounded when I saw the little hair that I did have, disappearing down the drain as I rubbed the wash cloth over my skin. In no time at all, I had become as hairless as my pretty sister. It was almost like magic. I also could not believe how smooth and soft my tingly skin felt.

Sarah then came back into the room, when she determined that I was as hairless as a girl should be, and she helped me to run a hot bath, which she liberally doused with lavender oil. She told me that it would help to condition my skin, and help to heal any damage that the Nair might have done to my skin.

I did not know any better. I had to admit that I was kind of looking forward to soaking in the ultra feminine smelling waters. I slipped into the hot bath, and I nearly feinted as I felt the hot silky water on my hairless skin for the very first time. It was sensuous. That is the only word that I could think of. Another hard on sprang up the moment that I felt the hairless skin of my legs rubbing against each other in the hot oiled water. It was so erotic to me, to be placed in such utterly feminine circumstances. I loved every second of it.

Sarah wanted me to have enough time for the lavender to do its work on my skin, so she kept me in the tub for nearly an hour. Every ten minutes or so, she would come in and run more hot water into the tub for me. I was lost in the scented luxury of the bath.

Geeze, if this was what the real girls got to feel all the time, I was more than willing to become a girl. This was really nice. I wondered if the girls in the gang ever got to have baths like this. I reflected that they probably did not, even if they were pretty girls. They did not live in such nice houses as I did, after all.

I idly wondered what they would think of me if they could see me now. I shrugged as I realised all too clearly that they would probably just think that I was getting what I deserved.

When I was ready to get out of the tub, Sarah came in and she started to help me dry myself with a big fluffy pink towel. I took the towel and started to rub myself. She yanked it away from me. She explained that girls had more sensitive skin that boys had, and that if I rubbed myself as though I were like a jock boy, that I was going to remove the emollients from my skin, and that would make it dry out and probably give me a painful rash.

She asked if I wanted a painful rash. Of course, I told her no, that I did not want a painful rash.

Sarah smiled at me and showed me how to gently pat myself dry. She told me that I was going to have to learn how to do things like real girls did them, but that she would be there to help me become all girl… That is, if I wanted her to help me adjust. She giggled and told me that I would want really soft sensitive skin under the lovely lingerie that I was going to be wearing, because it would feel so wonderful on my skin.

When I was dry, I was so ashamed because I had an erection. Sarah lightly fondled it, and told me that this was not really how other girls reacted, and she told me that I was going to have to learn to keep it under control, because there were not very many girls who walked around school, with hard ons poking out the fronts of their skirts.

The image of a pretty girl with her skirt poking out in the front, from a hard on, made both of us giggle.

Sarah told me to follow her into her bedroom. I did so. I felt utterly weak and vulnerable being in such a femininely appointed room, totally naked, knowing that I was now expected to put on girl's clothes. I shuddered. I had to admit that I had never felt so horny in my short little life.

I did not know if it was because I was naked with a beautiful girl, even if Sarah was my sister, or if I was so excited because I knew that I was being ordered by the court to wear nothing but girl's clothes, till I was eighteen. I decided that the idea of wearing the same cute clothes that my sister wore and of walking in her shoes so to speak is what was turning me on so much.

She led me over to the bed.

Sarah smiled and told me that she had selected some really pretty things for me to try on. She told me that because it was my first time to wear girl's clothes, that she had picked out some of the prettiest things that she owned, for me to wear for my debut. She told me that the more girlish the clothing I was going to wear, the easier it would be for me to feel girly and so to act girly.

I noted that her tone of voice made it abundantly clear to me that she did not think for a moment that it really was my first time to wear girl's clothes. She already thought I was a fairy. I was tempted to be angry at her implication, but as I stood there, I was aware that for at least eighteen months, that is exactly what I was going to be, a fairy boy wearing girl's pretty clothing and acting like a little prissy girl. I decided there was not point in raising an argument about something that I was going to do anyway.

Firstly, I was to turn around. She told me that even if I was very girlish already, that I still did not really have the curves of a girl of my age, so I would need some help. I raised my arms high over my head, and she wrapped a white satin waist nipper around my waist. She laced it as tightly as she could, explaining that she had some lovely clothes, and she did not want any seams around the waist line ripping out, because I did not have a proper shape to wear them. I could hardly believe how tight it was, and I wondered how I would ever be able to bend over in it, if I had to do so.

It flashed into my mind that girls did not bend over anyway as they lowered themselves with bended knees.

I was then directed to sit on the edge of the bed, and she showed me how to put my nylons on. I could not bend over enough to do it, so I felt absolutely useless as she worked the delicate sensuous material up my legs. I must have conveyed how I felt, because she commented to me that wealthy girls got treated like that every day of the week, and that since I was not a wealthy girl, that I was going to have to learn how to do these things for myself.

When I stood up, and for the very first time in my life, felt the tautness of hose on my hairless legs, I knew that I would want to wear nylons every day of my life, if it would be possible for me to do so. I was thrilled with how it felt.

Sarah then told me to lie back on the bed. She said that while I was taking my bath, that mom had gone out and gotten me a few special things that would help me to adjust to my new girl hood. I did not know what she was talking about, but it soon became very apparent. She liberally applied a very cold liniment from a tube onto my chest. I asked her what it was, and she told me that it was a medical adhesive. She told me that mom had bought the solution to dissolve the adhesive, but that she did not know where mom had put it. She also told me that if I tried to remove the breasts without the special solution, I would probably rip my skin off in the process.

She fitted a pair of pretty little breasts onto my chest, breasts that looked about the same size as Sarah's tits looked to be. They even had nipples that stuck out in a most embarrassing fashion. I was to lay there and hold them in place for fifteen minutes. She told me to be very careful that I did not move them, once she had placed them, or I would really have a problem. I was very careful, believe me. Once the fifteen minutes had passed, she told me that I could sit up.

I sat up, and I was not only amazed, but I was also surprised to find that I was delighted to feel the unaccustomed weight hanging from my chest. They were sealed to my chest, and looked like real breasts. I could hardly even detect the edges, when I looked quickly at them. Sarah smiled and told me that they were the top of the line mastectomy replacements, and that I was lucky that mom was willing to spend so much money on me.

She then told me that with the kind of adhesive that had been used that I never had to worry about my breasts coming off. She told me that the only thing that could remove them was the special solution that mom had. She grinned and told me that this meant that I could not stop being a girl, till mom decided it was time to use the solution to remove my tits from my chest.

I blushed. I liked knowing that I could never remove the pretty little tits. I was really branded by the enforced girl hood of having tits, and I did not even have a choice about it. I would never be able to wear boy's clothes again, with these tits on my chest, I knew. If I did wear boy's clothes, for one thing, they would probably not fit me with the tits I now had, and they could never even hope to disguise the fact that I now had a realistic girl's chest. For the first time in my life, I was really glad that I looked so much like my sister looked. At least with my face, the breasts were not going to look unnatural on me.

She showed me how to secure the white lace bra around my new breasts, and how to adjust the shoulder straps. As we were so close to being the same size, as I am only one inch shorter than Sarah, her bras required very little adjustments to make them wearable by me. I was amazed at how nicely wearing a bra relieved the stress of the weight of the breasts from my chest. I would willingly wear bras, I knew, because of they way the worked.

Then it was time for me to put on my first pair of panties. The ones that she had chosen were nearly transparent, they were so delicately thin. They were white to, matching my bra and corset. I pulled the wispy confection up over my legs, marvelling how sensuous the material felt as it slid over my nylons, and I was thankful that girl's clothes felt so wonderfully soft. Of course, the sensuous material did nothing about relieving the erection that I had in my panties.

Sarah giggled at it, as she would every once in a while, gently caress the front of my panties, telling me that she would never have imagined that I would have loved wearing her lingerie so much. I could not tell her that it was not true. After all, erections do not lie, do they? She wondered if any other boys would feel the same way as I did. She decided that they would not, because there were not too many boys that were as girlish as I was. She did not know any other ones anyway.

Then came my slip. As I looked up into the intimate feminine garment, and I felt it coming down over my head, I knew that I was being enveloped in a girl hood that I would never want to escape from. Yes, being a boy and being dressed up like this was very humiliating, but the humiliation seemed to high light the effeminacy that I was taking on, and I liked the way it made me feel. I had never felt feminine before, and I loved it. I knew that it was wrong for me, but I loved it none the less.

The lowering of my first slip down over my head to my shoulders seem to bring the newly discovered girlhood down into my psyche, as my slip slowly and softly enveloped me with it's utterly feminine nature. I knew that only a pretty girl had worn it before me, and now it was mine to wear to, every day if I wanted to. I had a girl's name now, and I was becoming a girl in appearance. Now I was beginning to know what it felt like to feel feminine too.

The only way that I could ever get any more girlish would be to date a boy and by sucking his cock, I thought to myself.

Then I was startled to realise that while even a few hours ago, I would have fought with anyone who had even suggested that I might be the kind of sissy that would suck a cock. Now, I was dressing up like a girl, and I was even thinking about sucking a cock, like a girl might think of it. The idea was no longer repulsive to me, now that I was becoming a girl, and I knew from the gang talk, that the chicks regularly sucked off the guys. It was just what girls did, that's all.

As I was being dressed, and knowing that I had a girl's name now, the idea just did not seem to be so ugly and repulsive any more. Was wearing these clothes able to change me so much so quickly?

Or, maybe they were all right about me in the first place. Maybe I really was a girl on the inside, a girl with a cock, but a girl on the inside none the less? Maybe that was why I was accepting becoming Deborah without a fight?

I put the confusing thoughts out of my mind. I loved the way the silky slip was caressing my denuded skin. Sarah was standing in front of me, holding out for me, my very first dress. I looked at her as she was going to help me get into it. I shuddered at the thought of the lovely white lace thing as being 'my' dress.

By law, I had to wear dresses now. It was 'my' dress.

 

She went behind me and told me to raise my arms up. She explained about how a girl had to slip her arms up inside the dress, then work the sleeves and cuffs down onto her arms, before she could finish putting her dress on. I felt the elastic of the puffy little sleeves as she worked them up over my arms, up to the area of my arms, about half way between the elbows and the shoulders. I had never worn sleeves like these before, and the feeling was very strange to me indeed. It was girly and effeminating. It was cute too. I knew that I was going to look like a cute girl in it.

Once the sleeves were in about the right place, she lowered the rest of the dress over my head. I felt utterly effeminated as the delicate material settled around me, in the way that it was designed to settle around a girl's body. She helped me to get the zipper done up to the back to my neck.

I'd seen this dress on Sarah often, and I was only too well aware of what a pretty dress it was. It was made of a light material that allowed all the delicate lace of my underwear to be seen through the bodice. It had a little lace trimmed peter-pan collar. The cuffs were adjusted on my upper arms, so that the cute puffy little sleeves puffed out the way that they were designed to, making me look very cute, and prissy.

Of course, girls liked looking cute and prissy, I reminded myself, as I wondered if I would ever like being a girl that much too. I suspected that I would. I admired the way that I looked. I looked cute and sissy. I felt cute and sissy. I liked the way it felt to be cute and sissy.

I did not want to, but I like how it felt, even though I knew that I was a total sissy now.

I stepped over to stand in front of the mirror. Sarah handed me the wide waist-cinching belt, also white. I slipped it around my waits, and tightened it. It made the dress flare out over my hips, and the skirt of the dress fell in very large folds to a hem that was about two inches above my knees. It was a very feminine dress, and even with my shorter hair, I looked entirely natural and very girlish in it.

I wanted to cry. I did not want to look so much like a real girl, and yet I would have hated wearing this dress if I did not look so pretty in it, I knew.

It fit me like it was made for me. It fit me like it fit my sister. In terms of measurements, my body was almost the same as my sister's now. I would be able to wear her most feminine things, and they would fit me perfectly. I would look as sexy and feminine in them as she did. Guys would be after me the way they were always trying to put the make on her.

Sarah helped me to step into a pair of white satin shoes, with two-inch heels. It took a few minutes of her coaching, but I soon learned that if I took small mincing steps, one foot in front of the other, toe and heel touching down at the same time that I could walk without breaking my neck. And if I allowed myself to sway my hips in a swishy fashion to accommodate the higher heel it helped even more. And if I raised my hands up in the stereo typical limp wristed fashion of the more feminine of girls to aid in keeping my balance, that I was soon able to be walking just like any other girl walks.

I knew I was a swish, a femmy little Nancy boy. I knew with certainty that the adults had been right to force me to do this. I belonged in clothes like these. I was a sissy and I liked how it felt to feel pretty and prissy.

"I bet you feel like a princess, you are so pretty in that dress, Debijo."

'Debijo?' Yeah, that sounded right. It was girly just like the new me.

What I did not like to realise about this whole new experience, was that acting in such a girlish way made me feel freer somehow. I could not understand that, but it made me feel really free on the inside. This new awareness was terribly confusing to me. I had never had effeminate desires before. I did not think that I had them, anyway. I knew instinctively that I would never again have to compete with boys, just to keep myself from being beaten up. I would not have to prove my masculinity twenty-four seven, not ever again.

Being a girl meant that I was being free to stop having to prove how normal I was. Maybe these people who had banded together to try and keep me out of jail did understand things about me that I would never have stumbled upon if left to my own devices. I knew only too well where that had led.

Sarah left me alone then, and she went to find my mom, because she told me that she would need to get my mom's advice concerning my hair. She told me that mom was really good with hair, so she left me alone for a few minutes.

I stood in front of the mirror, admiring the pretty girl I had been forced to become, and a very strange awareness of completeness began to intrude on my consciousness. For the first time in my life, I had the strange feeling that I had become a whole personality. It was a very deep feeling of inner peace had suddenly overtaken me. I stared at her in awe as I finally began to understand without doubts that I really did look like a girl.

My feminine nature began to come to the surface, like a bubble slowly rising to the surface of a thick liquid. As it rose to the surface, it grew bigger and bigger. I knew what the bubble was. It was my girl personality. It was Deborah coming to claim her rightful place in my life. It was Miss Debijo.

It was scary because it was so unknown, but I welcomed this new and somewhat fragile emerging girl personality that I was discovering from deep within me. I knew that for the first time in my life that I was going to love me, the real me. It amazed me that thought that I would actually really love who I was.

As she rose up inside of me, I felt her. I felt her femininity. I felt her girlish pleasure at looking so pretty. I felt the freedom that she wanted to have, to act in such a girlish way, like standing there with limp wrists wearing pretty clothes. Yes, I was becoming Miss Deborah Leigh Johnson. I soon realised that I did not want to be called Deborah all the time though. That just seemed so formal like, to me. I was not a lady after all, was I? I quietly voiced the name of Debi then Debijo.

Yes, I would like to be called Debi or Debijo, but that still just did not seem right somehow. There were lots of girls called Debbie. I was definitely not like them in all respects either, so I needed something just a wee bit different, unique.

I smiled at my girl reflection, and I could not believe that I was actually fussing over which girl's name that I wanted to be known by. I mouthed the name to my reflection. I could see that I looked sort of like a Debbie, but I just did not seem to be comfortable with it, but I had no idea of why.

Then, in a flash, I recalled having watched a really cute blond newscaster on television one night about a week earlier, who used the name of Debijo Johnson. Debijo seemed some how to be cuter than Debbie, and though I knew it was all in my own head, even more feminine somehow, than did Debbie. I was certainly cute, just like my cute sister was. We could certainly pass for cute sisters. That was for sure a reality of my new life.

I did admit to myself though, that I did really know this much. I wanted to be branded with a cutesy femmy name.

Debi would be perfect name for a cute teen aged girl, I thought, as I smiled at the pretty girl in the mirror. I realised that I was accepting for myself, a really cutesy feminine name. Sarah would like it, I knew. I blushed, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that the court had ordered it, and I had no real choice in the matter.

I just wished that I did not like the way it felt, so much. I felt as though I was somehow betraying the boy hood that I had grown up in. But defending that boyhood had only gotten me sentenced to be a young lady, for my troubles. Why not just give it up?

I just hoped my dad would not be too upset about how quickly I was accepting my court-enforced girlhood. That fear was the only fly in my pretty ointment, and I hoped that he would like me as a girl.

How would I act when I saw him? Should I act like Sarah did? Is that what he would expect, or would he want for me to act like a boy forced to wear a pretty dress? I just could not picture myself throwing my arms around his neck to suck up to him when I wanted something, or sitting on his lap as she did sometimes. That was how Sarah got her way all the time. Boy, she knew how to wrap him around her little finger. It suddenly dawned on me that all males were easy to manipulate if you were a pretty girl who was willing to act cutesy and dependent with them.

But, I knew that I wanted to feel the kind of happiness that always shone in her face, when she acted so girlish with him. Sarah really loved being a girl, and being expected to act like that to get her own way. It was a game between males and females, and she truly enjoyed it.

I hoped that my daddy would accept that behaviour from me in the same manner as he accepted it from her. If Sarah got so much pleasure from acting that way, not to mention getting whatever it was that she wanted, I wanted to know how it felt to her to be able to manipulate her father, not to mention all the other boys in her life. But, could I feel the same way about acting in the same way? And, I know that he told me that I was expected be a young lady in every way, but would he also accept if from me if I acted so girly too around him?

Moments later, my mom and Sarah came back to me then. And soon we were chatting in a fashion that I had never talked with them in before. Yes, this was a fateful day. All the while that we were chatting they were occupied with teaching me what to do with my hair, which was not short, but it was short for a girl like Sarah. I was beginning to know first hand what it felt like to be treated like a pretty girl… I really liked it too. I liked how girls treated each other. It was so much nicer and warmer than what I was used to.

Feeling at a loss for knowing what else to do I confided to them that I wanted to be called Debi or Debijo. True to my expectations, they thought that it was really cute, and that such a cute name really suited me too. I knew that I felt cute, strange as it was.

I liked feeling cute. I wanted to know how to relate to the world, from the perspective of being treated like a cute little piece of feminine fluff. Yes, I was wanted exactly that for myself.

I voiced my fears and concerns about dad's acceptance of me now that the court had ordered me to wear girl's clothes. Mom told me that he would have a bit of trouble about accepting it naturally, but that he would rather see me wearing dresses and acting like a pretty little daughter around the house, than to not see me because I was in jail.

She assured me that he was just going to love the new me, as much as she herself loved the new little Miss Debi, once he got a chance to see how really pretty and feminine I had actually turned out to be. She also confided to me that he had often commented on how girlish I seemed to be, and he had told her that he hoped it would not cause me too many problems in my life. She told me that he well understood how hard it was to grow up being a boy in modern society, let alone a boy who also had to contend with a question of his own masculinity.

She hugged me and told me that she understood how hard it was for a boy like me, not just what was going on in my own mind, but the way that people treated effeminate boys like us. She told me that in a way it was a relief for me, because if I acted like a young lady which seemed to be my natural bent, that everyone would think I was a girl, rather than a girlish boy trying to act like a boy.

I had to admit that in a convoluted way, her reasoning was true enough.

She made me feel so nice, and so accepting of my own as yet unaccustomed new feminine cuteness. She assured me that it was not just my own imagination, but that once I got out in public that I was going to have guys eating out of my hands, competing with each other for my favours. She told me I was really gorgeous, and that I was going to have to learn how to relate to the world now, from the perspective of being a really cute young lady. She patted my shoulder and told me that I was going to love the way that cute young girls get treated in life. She told me that it was a man's world for sure, but any girl worth her salt knew how to get a guy to do what she wanted him to do, and to have him like doing it for her.

They both counselled me that for the sake of harmony in the home, that it would be much easier for everyone if I could try to forget that I had ever been a boy, and to try very hard to act just like Sarah acted, especially around dad. A part of me did not want to relinquish the boyhood that I had grown up with, as it was the only life that I knew. But a much larger part of me really wanted to know what it felt like to forget that I had ever been a boy. I like feeling pretty, and cutely prissy.

I shuddered with the intensity of the myriad of thoughts and emotions that were coursing through my fragile psyche. I saw in my mind's eye how Sarah had always sucked up to daddy. I had always been aware of how she would come on to him with her cute little smirks, and her little kisses on his cheeks, her little cutesy eye lash batting. And then there was the way that she sometimes threw herself onto his lap to get a hug and a kiss from him.

In truth, I had always been kind of mad and envious that she seemed like she was able to get anything and everything that she ever wanted, whenever she did things like that, and I couldn't. For a son to act like that would have been absolutely forbidden.

Maybe now, things might be different for me?

They certainly would be, if I started to flop myself down in a pretty fashion onto my father's lap, in order to ask him to buy me new dresses, like Sarah was so want to do. I blushed at the thought of seeing myself acting so completely girlish with the man who had made me a boy, and I flushed.

The idea though, even though it was very embarrassing, was exciting to me to. I somehow sensed that getting to act like a real girl acts in real life was going to be very satisfying for me. Using feminine wiles on a male was going to be very exciting to me. I hated to admit it to myself, but it only seemed like the right way for me to make my way in life, somehow. I shrugged with my acceptance of the fact that I was no longer my father's son.

 

Four

Two weeks have passed since my dad first saw me wearing my first dress, a pretty and feminine knee length hem. My mom, being as wise as she is, had thought that it would make it easier for him to accept his new daughter, if I dressed in a really feminine and really pretty dress for the debut. She felt that if he saw me being as completely feminine as it was possible for me to be, that it would make it easier for him to stop thinking of me as being his son, his naturally born male son.

So, while being terrified of letting my dad see me wearing girl's clothes, I decided that the wisest course was to follow her advice. I was feeling as though the personality that I had tried so hard to construct for myself was crashing down about my ears. I knew that I was entering into a world where the rules were all different from what I had known before. True, I had secretly wanted to live in that world, but the reality of being forced into it was very different from the fantasy.

So, submissively I let them make me into a very feminine looking girl. They dressed me in a really pretty fashion, and I was soon wearing one of Sarah's prettiest summer frocks. My hair was put up in lots of curls that cascaded in a bouncy halo around my face. I felt like Shirley Temple when she was six. I am sure that you have the kind of pictures that I am talking about. Talk about Alice through the looking glass, eh?

I was sixteen, and I was sure that they had made me look more like ten. They assured me that I was wearing clothes appropriate to my age, but I felt like a little girl, not a young lady about to embark on a whole new life adventure.

It was really hard on my nerves to know that I had to let my dad see me looking like that. But, I tried hard to follow my mother's advice. It was her contention that it was going to go easier on every one in the family, if I made the commitment in my own mind that I was going to act as girlish as I possibly could do. Her caution was that I had to do so without compromising the essence of who my own personality was, to help him to perceive me as a real girl. She said it depended on how feminine I could be that would determine if he would treat me like an effeminated son or like his other daughter Sarah.

She felt that by my acting as girlish as any normal girl would act, that it would help me to accept the fact that in my father's eyes, I was no longer a son either. It made sense, I guess. I did not know how I was going to pull it off, but there was a part of me, very deep inside of me, that was hoping that he would really like me better, as a girl.

I knew with all too much clarity that if it was a choice being treated like an effeminated son or being treated like Sarah was treated, the being treated like Sarah won hands down. It was not contest. I'd always envied her for the way she was treated in the family, and if I had the chance to be treated the same way, I would do anything that I could to make that happen.

My mom also had some wise counsel to for me about how to act like a young lady. She told me as she looked me straight in the eyes that she knew I was always far more girly than boyish. She told me that all of my troubles had arisen because I had tried to act like a boyish boy, instead of being myself. She told me that aside from a few deportment lessons that the best way for me to act like a young lady was to just try and stop myself from trying to act like a boy. If I could do that, she assured me that I would not have a problem with how to act right.

Needless to say, the atmosphere in the house for those first few days was rather strained, as no one seemed to know how to treat me, but they knew that I had to be treated like a girl, in order to help me accept my fate. I was entirely new at being a girl, so I did not really know how to treat my daddy. I watched my mom and my sister closely. Oh how well I remembered that very first moment of confrontation with my dad. I cannot forget it.

He'd come home as per usual, and he knew that he was not going to see his son, but that he was going to see his son in dresses, and he was not thrilled with the idea. What father would be, right? But he loved me too, and he also did not want to make me feel horrible by inflicting his own personal feelings onto me, because he really did love me. We could only sense how torn he felt about the whole situation, and how confused he felt about how he should act towards me. I could see the wisdom of my mom's counsel about my assumed effemination. It would make it easier on him to accept me this way if I just tried to act like any other teenaged girl acted. I certainly had an excellent role model in my sister, for which I was thankful.

Mom had directed him into the living room, and she had given him a beer to help him calm himself. She stayed with him, talking to him, trying to get him to express his feelings about my enforced effemination, so that she could help him release the pressures that he must be feeling about it all.

When she felt that he had let go most of the emotions that he'd been bottling up inside of him, she called for Sarah and I. Sarah hugged me and took my hand, and led me into the room. Once we'd entered the room, she let go of my hand, and went to sit beside my mom.

My dad looked at me. There was a mixture of disgust, of guilt, of anger on his face. But I was delighted to see that there was also an appreciation for how I looked, that all seemed to cross his face all at the same time. I was amazed to see so much in one person's look, in such a very short expanse of time. I felt sorry for the strain he must be feeling.

I felt so completely vulnerable and weakly exposed to his frank gaze. I knew that he could see my nyloned knees, and my delicately shaped ankles, perched on the high heeled sandals that I was wearing. I was at a loss as to what to do. I could hardly breathe because I was so scared that he was going to hate me for what I had become.

The longest moment of my short little life transpired as I stood there, wondering what I could do to help him like me more. I then recalled my mother's sage counsel. I knew that if I submitted to her advice, that there would be no going back again. My dad's perception of me would be changed forever. Feeling as though I was stepping over a high cliff, and hoping for the best, I made the fateful decision.

I reached down to my thighs to pluck at the hem of my dress. Lifting the hems between my thumbs and forefingers, I executed a most graceful and pretty curtsy. Because of my fear and nervousness I do not know how I managed to execute it, but I knew from the looks of admiration on my mother's and sister's faces that I had done the right thing, and I had done it rightly.

Daddy, when he saw how girlishly I was willing to act, for his acceptance, smiled at me, and for the first time since I was seven, threw his arms open for me, to hug me. A torrent of pent up fears of rejection poured out of me, as I dropped my hems, and ran across the room to throw myself into his arms.

I was so thrilled to see that he did not hate me for becoming what I was really, deep down inside. I was elated that I would no longer have to pretend to be a boy. I would have the freedom, if not also the court sanction, to act like a girl is allowed and expected to act. I could be a 'she' now.

I flopped onto his lap, feeling weak from being totally drained. I flung my arms about his neck, and marvelled at how scratchy his beard was on my soft cheek. He smelled so strong to me. It had never occurred to me before that Sarah must have felt like this.

He cooed in my ear and petted my back as he told me that it was all right, and that everything was going to be okay. He told me that I was a lovely girl, a daughter that he could be proud of. I also discovered something else about my dad that day.

I knew that I had to keep it a secret, butt while I was ensconced on his lap as I was I felt an erection growing under my bum cheeks. This surprised me. It also delighted me that as a girl, that I suddenly had the power to turn my dad on. This was something that I had not even thought about, that is, turning on other males, because of my feminine persona. I let him know in a secret glance, and I tried unsuccessfully to not rub my pantied and beskirted bum into his lap, that I would keep his secret.

It still did not release all the tension though. For a while we walked on eggshells, not really knowing how to act with each other. I knew I should act as girlish as any other girl would act, but I could not help but to feel guilty about acting that way.

I also had the mistaken idea that I could not let the others ever really understand just how wonderful I felt, when I was allowed to act completely girlish. It was like heaven to me. I should have known that they all saw the changes in me. They all saw the delight on my face that was never there before. They saw the excited gleam in my eyes. They noted the lack of strain of my inner struggle that was magically abolished from within me with the donning of dresses. They had noted how effortlessly I had assumed complete feminine mannerisms. In fact, they knew more about how much I loved being a girl, than I did.

Then my dad came up with an idea. We were having supper together on Monday of the third week of my court ordered cross-dressing. I was almost used to wearing the soft silk and lace clothes that my mom made me wear all the time. I still always felt really funny though, when I knew that dad was looking at me, and seeing a younger version of Sarah, when he should have been seeing his only begotten son.

I'd always nervously tug at my dress hem, as though trying to cover my effeminated legs with my skirt, in order to make me more presentable to him. But I never saw condescension or blame in his eyes. I only saw acceptance. But none the less, my former boy hoodtraining would not let go of me so easily. I always felt guilty.

This particular evening, daddy turned to mom. He told her, in our hearing, that he felt that it was time to confess to the family that he was still having some difficulty in accepting the new me, the way that I was now. But that he realised that he had no choice about it. He thought that perhaps if the two of us could get away together for a few days, that we might be able to assuage the tensions between us and bring peace back into our home.

He told me that what he would like me to do was to go on a one-week vacation with him at a hunting camp that a friend of his owned. He told me that it was a place where the two of us would be alone together, and we could get to know each other in this new way. He thought that this way, we would have to talk to each other about all of this, and that we could not keep avoiding the issues by finding too many other things to do.

The idea of me, as a pretty daughter, spending a whole week alone, out in the middle of nowhere with my dad, was both exciting and frightening. It excited me because we had always loved being with each other, though it never happened very often. It frightened me, because I remembered from that first night that I had made him have a hard on for me, and I did not know what to expect.

I smiled bravely though, hoping that he thought that it was a cute smile, and told him that if he thought that it was best, that I would like to do it with him.

We made the plan to leave on the following Thursday afternoon.

Mommy (I had started to think of her as Mommy, rather than as Mom), helped me to pack. I had nothing but girl's clothes naturally. She would allow me to take some very feminine coloured and obviously feminine shorts, but no pants, even though the cabin was in the mountains. Even the shorts were limited to two pairs. Both of these pairs had a lace trim on the rolled up cuffs. The rest of my clothes were either skirts or bang around sundresses as it was going to be in the wilderness.

She chided me that I did not have to look pretty enough to attract boys, just pretty enough to make dad like being with me, when I questioned her about her seemingly limited choices for my wardrobe. I blushed. She giggled and she tousled my curly head of hair when she saw that.

My mom had never seemed to have any problem at all in treating me like a younger version of Sarah. Her complete and unquestioning acceptance of the new improved feminine me had helped me adjust. In fact, I kind of had the suspicion that she liked me a lot better as Debi, to be honest with you.

I was at last all ready, ready to be all alone as a pretty girl with my dad, a dad who had gotten hard for me the first time that he had seen me in a dress. I was tense and nervous, and excited. In a way, I knew that I wanted him to want me in that way, and I understood that a lot of girls had feelings for their fathers along those lines too.

For the trip to the cabin, mom had selected an outfit that I had no choice about. It was a pretty pink kicky little short skirt that flared out around my thighs with even the slightest of movements. The blouse was a peasant blouse of white cotton that had a lace design on the bodice, and big puffy short sleeves. I wore white knee socks with white and pink sneakers. It made me feel absolutely girlish. I liked it, but I felt strange knowing that soon my dad was going to know that I really liked looking like this, and feeling like a girl is supposed to feel in such an outfit.

I tried to balk at wearing something that was so ultra feminine. I still had that idea that she did not know how delighted it made me feel, to be ultra girlish. Sarah commented that even real girls would think that what I was wearing was pretty wussy, too girly, but mom would not relent. Resigned to my ultra feminine outfit, I was careful about not showing my panties, as I climbed up into Dad's truck. When we actually left the house together, I felt like a giddy little girl about to embark on a big adventure.

Needless to say, the first hour or so of sitting in the front seat of his truck, knowing that he was looking at his totally effeminated son, was nerve wracking to me, and I suspected, to him as well. More than once, I became aware that his eyes were drawn to the large expanse of hairless thighs that poked out ever so vulnerably, from the short pleated hem that I kept tugging at.

But, I also felt a very strange kind of thrill, knowing that such a masculine and strong man, even though he knew I was not really a girl, was attracted to me in the same way that he might be attracted to Sarah. I knew that he looked at her like that, because she had told me about it.

I knew that she sometimes teased him to, because she liked making him uncomfortable about her maturing sexuality. She also loved knowing the power that a pretty girl had to make a man into mush.

I never told her about how he had been hard the first time that I sat in his lap, but she had told me that she got a real thrill out of making him hard for her, whenever she teased him. It amazed me, the way she took such delight in being able to make him react to her like that. I wondered if I too would ever feel girly enough to feel the same kind of delight Sarah demonstrated. Could I delight about making a man hard for me? I did not want to, but I suspected that I would feel that way too. It was how girls felt and I had by now accepted the fact on the inside of me that I was not a boy, I was a girl.

I did not know what to think, but I was inclined to like knowing that I was being treated just like my sister got treated. It made me feel a little more like a girl. I liked knowing that my dad liked me this way. It made me feel kind of warm and tingly all over.

I liked that feeling. I liked feeling like an attractive girl.

 

Five

My dad talked an awful lot to me on the way to the mountain cabin about how happy he was that I seemed to be able to adapt to the new life that the court had ordered me into. I confessed to him that I was really happy about being a girl. I confessed to him that I loved not having to compete every moment of the day to try and prove that I was a normal guy to everyone around me. For the first time in my life I told somehow about how hard it had been for me to be a boy. He seemed to understand and he did not hold it against me.

He told me that he understood, and that it was not normal for a boy to feel that way. He told me that what I was saying just confirmed his feelings that maybe I should have been raised as a girl after all. This amazed me, and I was delighted to hear it from him.

We stopped for a bite to eat about half way there. His acceptance of me in this role, when I was all alone with him seemed to open some kind of drain in me, and all the fear and tension that I had been having boil around inside of me just seemed to seep out of me. It left me emotionally drained, and after dinner, I dropped off to a nap, to the hum of the tires and the feel of the warm sun through the windshield, as we headed westward into the mountains.

I awoke when I felt the truck slowing down. Dad reached over and tousled my hair, and greeted me back to the land of the living. I smiled and blushed. I loved it when he treated me like he treated Sarah. He had taken to calling me Debijo.

We were pulling into a small town, just less than an hour from the cabin. We were going to stop and get ourselves a supply of groceries so that we would not have to leave the cabin if we did not want to. That sounded good to me.

Half an hour later, with the back seat full of groceries, sodas and beer, we were on our way again. The road led up through an old logging road. The heavy growth of trees hung out over the road. It was beautiful. The air was thick with the smell of pines and wild flowers. The cooler air made little goose bumps appear on my thighs and arms. When dad saw that, he put the heater on for me.

We pulled up to a small A frame cottage that had a really lovely view over a small lake. It was rustic. It was beautiful. It looked like something out of a travel brochure.

We unloaded everything into the kitchen, and he told me that it was the woman's place to make the supper, and he would go out and secure some firewood. I grinned, accepting my place of relegation to the kitchen, like my mom would have if it was she who was on this trip with him.

There was a gas cook stove with a gas refrigerator. Once he had lit the pilot lights, he went out to chop some wood. I prepared a light supper of salad, hamburgers and some butterscotch custard. It was all out on the table for him when he came back in with a large armload of firewood. He stoked up the fire, washed his hands and sat down at the head of the table.

He grinned at me as he dug into the repast. I got up once to refresh his beer for him. He even insisted that I have a beer too, as he chided me that it was not as though this was the first time that I had used alcohol. I smiled as I accepted his mild rebuff about my past behaviour. He certainly had a right to say and think what he thought, after all, did he not?

He sat at the table and watched me as I cleaned up after supper, and he watched me as I washed the dishes. When all was cleaned up and neat, we took fresh beers and went out onto the balcony. The whole front of the house was glass walled, and we could see the wonderful view of the secluded valley. From our vantage point we could see that we were at the head of the lake.

The scent of the air was wonderful. We could hear birds of all natures. The eerie echoing of the loons seemed to be coming from all around us. We could see the rainbow coloured ripples on the mirror like surface of the lake, from the feeding fish.

It was like a dream.

We did not say anything to each other. We just lay on the lounge chairs and enjoyed the serenity of the nature that was all around us.

Just as the sun was setting between the peaks on the other side of the lake from us, I stood and walked over to the railing of the balcony. It was like heaven. I had never felt so relaxed in my life.

I sensed him before I felt him behind me. I had shivered a bit, wrapping my arms around myself. He had seen it, and he had wanted to warm me up. I sensed him standing there uncertainly and then I felt his warmth as he stepped up to my back. His strong hairy arms went around my shoulders. It felt so nice, and I leaned back into him.

I felt his erection on my lower back. I felt the heat of his body pressing against me. I felt the strength of his arms. I felt the hard muscles in his chest. I felt his breathing. I felt his heart racing.

We stood like that for a very long moment. He realised that I was not going to try and get away from him.

I felt the vibrations in his chest, and he mumbled into my ear that I was a very pretty girl.

It made me feel so small and weak. I melted into him. I knew that he loved me as a man loves a female that he is attracted to. The attraction was mutual.

He gently began to rock his pelvis, rubbing his erection very slowly up and down my lower back. He asked me if that bothered me, and I told him that it did not. I sort of leaned against him.

He continued doing this for a long moment then he asked me if I liked making him feel like that about me. I sighed and confessed to him that I did like it. He squeezed me just slightly more tightly, and I felt even more loved than I had a few moments earlier.

He told me that it had been a long drive, and that he was tired. He said it was time for bed. He told me that the water in tank was probably hot enough now for a shower. He told me that he was going to go and take a shower while I got ready for bed.

I felt kind of giddy. He'd been seeing me wearing nothing but girl's clothes for weeks now, but he had never seen me wearing one of the baby doll nightgowns that my mother had packed for me. I hurriedly removed my clothes, and I put on the silky little frilly panties, then the lacy bra and dropped the silky pink top down over my head. I stepped into the furry mules and wrapped the shorty styled peignoir about me, and tied the satin ribbon.

By that time, I heard him turning off the water. I went back out onto the balcony and started my nightly ritual of 100 strokes with a brush. I was acutely aware of him watching me through the plate glass wall. Then, I knew that it was time to go back in and face my daddy.

I was glad that the peignoir seemed to flare out around my hips. The truth of the matter is, I had a raging hard on in my panties. I could feel the soft silkiness gently caress my little cockette. I wondered if he knew that he was making me feel this way. I wondered if he was doing this on purpose to me.

I was aware of the feminine clicking of my heels on the hard wood flooring as I returned to the living room, and pulled the big glass door closed behind me. I was astounded when I turned into the room and spied my dad.

He was sitting on the bearskin rug on the floor, in front of the fireplace with his back propped up against the couch. His legs were wide open. He was naked. He had the biggest cock I had ever seen. Of course, that does not really mean much, because my cock was the only one that I had ever seen erected, and his seemed to be very much bigger than mine was.

He smiled and asked me to get him another beer. I felt utterly girlish as I minced across the room to the kitchen to get fresh beers for the two of us. Then, I was acutely aware of the caress of his vision on my legs, my arms and my face over and over again, as I made my way back to him in front of the roaring fire.

I handed him his beer. He grinned and asked me if I wanted to sit down beside him.

I did. Oh, did I ever want to sit down beside him. I had to keep tearing my fascinated eyes away from looking at his penis. It was so ugly that it completely fascinated me. I felt like I was at last looking at a real man. My own little hard on in my panties seemed to be so small and insignificant compared to what my dad had between his legs.

I sat down on the skin beside him, about a foot away.

"So young lady, you keep looking at me. Do you like what you see there?"

"Uhhh…" My throat was parched. I sipped my beer, hoping that it would help. It did not. "Ye… Yes…" There, I sighed a relief. I had actually had the courage to admit it to him.

"Ummm… I thought so. I was pretty sure that you would like it. Do you feel like a girl now Debijo?"

I looked fearfully up into his eyes. I did feel like a girl. I felt a girl's attraction to him. What if he found out how I really felt? Would he decide to hate me? What I saw in his eyes was a gentle acceptance of who I really was.

"You know honey, your mom and I have been really concerned about you, and how you will adapt to your new role in life."

"Yes?"

"Well, it is obvious to us now that we have seen you dressing as a girl for a little while that you are far more comfortable in the role of a girl than you ever were in the boy's role. So we have decided that you are going to have some special problems in life, and that you will need some help to prepare for them. We decided that you and I should go away for a little while, and I could help to prepare you, if you wanted me to do so."

"You did?"

"Yes sweetie, we did."

"What do you mean, help me?"

"Well honey, it is very different for a girl in life than it is for a boy. Boys go after girls. Girls usually respond to boys going after them, by trying to attract that kind of attention from them. That is one difference. If I may be so frank as to make another observation? Guys drop their drawers to fuck a girl. Girls not only drop their panties but they have to take them right off to get fucked. Girls receive their satisfaction by receiving from a guy. Guys receive their satisfaction from giving to a girl.

You honey have the nature of a girl and the body of a guy. I want to teach you how you can please a guy, and I want to help you learn how to receive from a guy in a loving and gentle way. It is very painful for a girl like you to receive from a guy, and I can help you avoid that kind of pain by teaching you how to receive a guy. Does any of this make sense to you honey?"

"Yes, I guess?"

"Good. Now, have you ever made it with a girl?"

"No."

"Well, if you had, you would know that a girl has a desire for a man's cock. She has a fascination with it, and she craves to feel it filling her up inside of her. I can see from the expression on your face that you have that kind of fascination for my cock, don't you Debijo?"

I knew from the gentle way that he was talking to me, that he understood about my girl self. I felt some guilt and some humiliation to have to admit to my own father that I did not have a son's feelings towards him, but I had a girl's feelings instead.

I nodded my head in the affirmative.

"No honey, if you are going to face your inner self, you have to be outright in doing so. Tell me what you are thinking as you look at it."

"Well… It is so big. It is so ugly that it kind of scares me. I like it though. I do not know why, but I really like it."

"What would you like to do with it?"

I looked up into his face, as the last remnants of pretend masculinity fell from my psyche.

"I… I want to touch it."

"Do you, really, and I mean deep down inside of you?"

"Yes." They say that confession is good for the soul, and confessing these secret thoughts that had caused me weeks of guilt and frustration seemed to free me some how.

"Is there anything else that you want to do?"

"I… I want to kiss it."

"You do sweetie? Well, that is certainly a very girl feeling, isn't it?"

"I… I also want to taste it, to feel it inside of my mouth…?"

"I know sweetie. Most girls feel that way too. Well, the reason why we are here is so that you will learn how to act like a girl. In a few weeks, you will be going back to school. You will be going back to school as a girl. A girl who looks like you do is going to have guys all over her. You need to learn how to treat them, to keep yourself safe. Do you want me to teach you those things honey? If you feel at all uncomfortable, I do not want to do anything. I do not want you to feel like just because I am your dad that you have to do anything. I want you to only do what you feel like you really want to do, from deep inside of you. If you want to do what a girl feels that she wants to do, then this is what you should do. This week is your chance to learn all about it, if you want to, but only if you really want to."

 

 

Six

I looked up at him, and I looked back down at his cock. I felt so strongly that it was normal for a man to want to assail his maiden with his rock hard tool, and that it was normal for the maiden to try and make him feel that way. I knew that I could never convince him ever again that I was a normal boy, not that I would ever want him to treat me like a normal boy again.

Besides that, I was feeling a new kind of feeling for this man that had created me with that very same cock. I was feeling an erotic desire for him. I knew that it was a purely feminine emotion. It was not because he was a guy and I was a guy. It was because I knew that I was no longer a guy. I was a maiden, and I was about to become a real woman.

I felt the bristly hair of the bearskin carpet on my bum, right through my panties as I slid over to lay my head on his shoulder. At the same time, astounded at my own courage, I reached out, over his hairy muscled thigh, and I lightly wrapped my fingers around his cock. It felt so utterly natural, so completely womanly for me do to this.

His cock was so amazing to me. It was rock hard, but the skin on the top of it was satiny smooth, and it seemed to float over the hardness underneath it. It was big too, far bigger than my own little cockette. It seemed to be about six or seven inches long, and maybe four inches in diameter. He was circumcised too. I let my thumb play with the sensitive area under the head of his cock, and I was rewarded with him moaning out his pleasure with me.

I was elated, knowing that at long last, I was doing what the real women do to the men that they love. This was euphoric. I knew that at the moment, I was getting to feel the things that my mom got to feel when she was with her husband.

I looked up at him. He adjusted his arm around my shoulders, and he kissed me. He kissed me, unlike he had ever kissed me before. This time, it was filled with the passion of a man for an attractive young woman. I melted as his arms seemed to grasp me tightly, crushing me against his manly chest, his beard bristles scratching at my soft cheeks and lips, and his tongue pushed into my mouth in a most possessive fashion.

I hungrily and passively received his big tongue into my mouth, and I sucked it even deeper. He made me feel so small, so weak, and so utterly unlike a boy. My head was spinning with the joy of awakenings. My hand grasped his cock even tighter, and I began to masturbate him the way I had learned to do to myself.

After many long moments of kissing him like this, I let go of his cock. I wanted to feel his chest under my fingers. I gently caressed the hairy hard chest. I could hear his heart beating rapidly. I lightly began to kiss his chest, finding a nipple to lightly begin teething. He was moaning, and I knew that I was pleasing him. He was not a homosexual I knew, and so I knew that I was pleasing him as a woman pleases him. I was his lady now.

I let my hand lightly glide over his muscled chest, and ever so slowly back down to his cock and his balls. I felt a strange kind of freedom deep inside to know that he was letting me do what he had only ever let girls do. I gently fondled his big balls, and moved my hand back to the shaft of his cock. It felt so wildly natural for me to be doing to him what his women do to him.

I kissed his chest, and I kissed slowly down his tummy, till his cock, still in my hand, was right in front of my face. I knew all the jokes at school about the guys who wore girl's clothes, and sucked cocks like chicks do. I knew what guys like me were called but it did not seem to matter to me any more. I was doing what any other girl is expected to do, and I knew that I wanted to know what girls felt like when they did them too.

I wanted to be a real girl for now and forever.

I raised my head. I had never seen a cock so close to my face before. I had a strong, very strong desire to kiss it. I knew that by kissing it, I would be honouring him for having what it takes to be a man. His musky scent was strong and manly and I knew that I would never smell like that. I was not a man like him. I did not have the right guy stuff in me. Now I knew that even more clearly than I had ever known it. I would never have it. I wanted to honour him for having it. I lightly let my lips brush his cock head.

It was so hot, and so dry.

I felt it throbbing under my lips. I was doing what my mother did to it, I knew, and I felt so exquisitely effeminated. I knew what she felt, the love for this man that she had when she made love to him, and I wanted to feel it all. I wanted to feel every little thing that the woman who had conceived me felt.

Did I love this man the way a woman loves a man? I knew that the answer was an unqualified yes. I felt a woman's emotions for him. I wanted more than anything else for him to be pleased with me. I wanted to please him.

I kissed the head of his cock all over. I noted that I was leaving little traces of my pink lipstick on his cock too. I felt a strange kind of gratification. That was what girls did with cocks. I was getting to do all that the real girls are allowed to do. Making love to a man in such an intimate fashion was incredibly satisfying to me.

I kissed his shaft then I kissed back up to the head of his cock. I pressed my lips against it. I had such a strong desire to know what it would feel like inside of my mouth. I was surprised at the strength of my desires to feel him inside of me like that. If this is what the fairies feel, it was no longer a wonder to me that they were willing to endure the ridicule of their peers. This was a wonderful feeling, and well worth any ridicule that might be heaped on me, should anyone ever learn about the secret in my panties.

I knew that I wanted to look in the mirror the next morning, and know that I was looking at the face of a cocksucker. I craved to experience that kind of effeminated humiliation. It was what real girls experienced, and I wanted to know what it was going to feel like too, just like my sister. She'd confided to me that she loved sucking the cock of her boy friend, and that was how she kept him happy, and kept him out of her panties at the same time. At the time I was abashed that anyone would ever admit that they loved sucking a cock, but now I knew why she did.

It was too big and too dry to fit into my mouth. I felt like crying because I was not going to get the chance to suck it.

"Honey, do you want to suck my cock?"

"Yes…"

"Well, for the very first time that you suck a cock, I want you to experience complete effemination. Let me stand up. Now, I want you to kneel in front of me. When a woman does it this way, she is being very submissive and accepting of a man's superiority to her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you feel that way now Debijo?"

I looked up at him from my kneeling position. He was so big and so strong. He could do whatever he chose to do to me, if he wanted to. I had no choice but to feel weak, small and submissive to his superior strength over me. He was a man, and I was not. I was acutely aware of the feminine garments that I was wearing. This is what a woman feels.

"Yes Sir, I do."

"Women are supposed to like those feelings. Do you like the way you feel right now Debijo?'

"Yes Sir."

"Do you love the way that you feel?"

"Yes. I love how I am feeling."

"Good girl. Now, you are probably going to find that my cock is a little big for your sweet little mouth. You will need to lubricate me. You can do that by licking my cock all over."

I began to lick his cock as he had instructed me to do. Women serviced men in this way. I was doing what a real girl gets to do. I was wearing what a real girl wears when she does things like this. I was feeling the same tactile sensations that real girls feel when they have a cock in their mouths.

I was being as much of a girl as it was possible for me to be.

I looked up at my dad again. He seemed to be so strong, so masculine, so very unlike me. I loved him. He was looking down at me. I could see that look of the superior lusting over the submissive one in his eyes. I could see the lusting for me as a girl in his eyes. I loved how it was making feel too. I felt surrendered to being his girl.

I opened my mouth and I slowly began to receive the head of his cock into me. I was amazed at how it filled the inside of my mouth, making my cheeks bulge out. I wondered if he could see the way he was making my cheeks stretch. I wondered if he thought that I looked just like any other female who had sucked his cock for him. I hoped so.

When his cock was far enough in that it was touching the back of my throat, I felt the gagging reflex.

"That is okay honey. You have got lots of time to learn how to deep throat. For tonight, just enjoy the feelings you are having about sucking a man's cock. Move your head back and forth slowly, and lick at me too. Yesss... That is right honey…. Ohhh… You are a natural born cock sucking girl, you know that princess?"

I could not respond. It is kind of hard to talk when your mouth is full of a cock.

He held the sides of my head very lightly, and he very slowly moved his pelvis so that his cock was moving into my mouth then back out of it again. I became aware the he was fucking my mouth the way he fucked my mother, and I felt a strange elation to know that I was being all woman for him. I wanted to walk in a woman's shoes, and my father was letting me do it.

He let me suck his cock like that for about fifteen minutes. My shoulders and my jaw actually started to get sore. I took him out of my mouth to give myself a break, and I continued to masturbate him with my thumb.

"Ohhh honey, you are a natural man lover sweetie. You know exactly what to do. I am going to cum sweetie. Unless you want a mess all over your pretty face and your pretty nightgown, you had better put me back in your mouth sweetie. You are such a good cocksucker princess… Yesss… You are going to make me cum now honey…"

I put just the head of his cock back inside of my mouth as he had suggested, and I continued to masturbate him. I was thrilled with the idea that I was a girl and I was making a man give to me what men give to girls. Then the first eruption pummelled the top of my mouth, as the thick hot salty cum spurted from his cock.

This is what women are rewarded with, I thought to myself as I make him give me some more, and some more and some more. I sucked at him till I knew that that he had no more cum in him. I felt a strange kind of pride to know that I had made a man give me all that he had to give to a woman.

I continued to kneel there, licking at him, half hoping that I could make him hard again, but I could not. I felt the hot substance on my tongue. It was like in thick gobs. It was kind of salty, and kind of sweet too in a way. I knew that I liked the way it tasted.

After a few more minutes, he stepped back from me, pulling his cock from my mouth. He smiled down at me and told me that I had done very well, and that no man in his right mind would ever complain about the way I could make love to him.

He then told me that usually women liked the taste of cum, and that they like to swallow it when they had sucked it out of a guy. He asked me if I thought that I wanted to do that too. In my own mind, I figured that if I was going to be all woman, I should have a man's cum inside my body to, like a woman does.

I smiled up at him. He smiled broadly when he saw that I had swallowed his cum.

 

 

 

Seven

The next morning seemed so strange, to wake up in the arms of a strong man with my head on his shoulder, and to feel his erecting cock on my thigh. It was wonderful.

"Morning sweetie."

"G'morning daddy." Sigh

"So honey, you still like being a girl?"

I smiled up at him as I craned my neck to enable me to kiss his lips, and at the same time I reached down to grasp his cock in my hand. "If being a girl means that I can play with things like this all that I want to, then I never want to be anything else."

He laughed good-naturedly. "Honey, I somehow suspected that this was exactly what you would say. I am so glad that you have finally found out who you really are. I am glad that I was able to help you find out who you really are. Ohhh… My, you were not kidding were you sweet pants?"

I could not answer him. I had moved down and I had stuffed his semi erect cock back into my mouth. It just seemed so natural a thing for me to do, and I wanted to relive the experience as soon as I was able to. It did not take him very long to once again fill my mouth with his sperm, only this time he was the passive one, letting me kiss, touch and suck whatever my little hear desired to do. Women got to make cocks hard any time that they wanted to, and I was glad that I had joined their ranks.

When I had pleased him, I lay with my head on his tummy, watching myself as I continued to masturbate his flaccid cock for him. He was gently caressing the back of my head, and he was very relaxed. I could hardly believe that even though I was really a boy that I was being allowed the sweet privilege of acting like a girl gets to act. I loved being in the feminine role. It was the right one for me I knew.

I had read books and articles before about guys who changed sex. I did not think that I would like to change my sex, but I adored being allowed to dress and act like a real woman is supposed to. I adored the sense of peace and completeness that I feel about being feminine. I also knew now that I loved being intimate with a male, in the way that a woman is supposed to love it. I did not like being a boy with a male. I loved being a woman lover with her man.

It was eminently pleasing to me, to be a female, even though I had a little cockette in my panties.

I was really hard too in my pretty panties.

I lay beside my dad again. I lay with my head on his shoulder, my left shoulder crooked up under his right armpit. He made me feel so small and so protected. He was caressing the back of my head and he was kissing the top of my head. I wondered if he treated my mom like this. I was pretty sure that he did.

Then he surprised me by reaching down and grasping the front of my panties. I did not expect that. I felt utterly weak and totally and irrevocably under his control as I felt his callused fingers grasping me through the front of the delicate intimate girl material of my panties. I thought I was going to die from the sweetness of the emotions of the moment.

"You really love being a girl, don't you sweet heart?"

It was not a question. It was a statement. As I thought about it, I said yes. When I said yes, all the pent up emotion of the last few hours expressed itself in a glorious eruption into his big hand. He made me feel like a little girl and I loved him for it. I erupted in a way that I had never thought that I could. Usually my orgasms were purely physical in their nature.

Not this one though. This was an emotional orgasm of an intensity that I did not know I was able to experience. The sensations were wonderful, as I felt him pulling on me through the panties, but it was the awareness of my complete femininity that was the most wonderful feeling.

When it was over, I felt a peace like I had never known anyone could feel. I felt like a whole person, complete in all ways. I'd had a man make love to me, when I was a girl. It was wonderful. I lay on his chest, kissing him, trying to express my love for him for making me feel like this.

But, it was time to make him some breaky, and so I mustered what it took to crawl out of the bed and head for the shower.

I dressed in a cute short sleeved tank top that was white with pink roses all over it, and a trim of lace on the peter pan collar and the cute puffy bishop's sleeves. I wore a pair of red satin shorts that had a high waist and a white strip up the sides of them. I liked them because they seemed to make my bum cheeks look more rounded then they normally did.

To complete my out fit for the day, I wore white bobby socks with pink lace trim on the tops and the same white and pink sneakers I had worn the day before. Naturally, daddy's hands were on my bum a lot as I moved about the kitchen trying to make his breakfast for him. I loved all the attention I was getting too.

We spent the day fishing, or trying to fish. Because I was a girl, I could absolutely refuse to bait the hooks with worms. I had always hated the way they smelled and felt, and now I had the choice, so I refused to bait them. I rather enjoyed watching him bait the hooks for me. It served him right. He liked being a man, so let him be one. I did not like being one, so I was not going to act like one. Let the women's libbers act like men if they wanted to.

For the evening, it was pretty much a repeat of the evening before. He let me suck his cock again for a long time.

But this time, it was different. He told me that he felt that he had to break me in. I did not really know what that meant. He told me that it meant that I got a cock shoved up my pussy, like the girls do.

I told him that I wanted everything that the real girls got. He told me that because I was so small, that it could be painful, but that he wanted to be very gentle. He said that he would be gentle with me because he wanted me to like getting fucked so much that I would try to get him to do me again and again, like women do with the men that they love.

It made sense to me, I guess?

We went back to the bed. He told me to take all of my clothes off, and to not do anything at all. He wanted me to just lie there and let him make love to me like he made love to my mother. My heart skipped a beat as I thought of that most intriguing idea. That was exactly what I wanted to happen to me. I wished he could make a baby in me the way he had made me in my mother.

I took off my shorts, halter, sneakers and socks. I stood up and noted that he was watching me with avid interest as I lowered my panties and unhooked my bra. Then passively, I lay down on the bed to await my fate.

He removed his clothes too. He came over to the bed and lay down on top of me. I loved his weight on me, and the way that his cock poked up into my crotch, and I wished that I had an opening there for him to fill up for me. I envied girls. I loved the way that I felt like I was pinioned to the mattress, like I did not have a choice in the matter of what was going to happen. I smiled, aware that big strong men made little girls feel this way all the time. It was just one more girlish feeling that I was getting to know first hand, that was all.

He spent a very long time kissing me all over, especially sucking on my nipples which drove me into a frenzy. He went down to my cockette. He told me that he would not suck it because he was not a queer, that only queers and girls sucked cocks. I responded that I understood. He was right. I knew that I would really like it if he sucked me, because it would remind too much that it was a boy thing that he would be sucking. I did not want that.

He kissed my legs all the way down to my feet, then he rolled me over onto my tummy and very slowly he kissed and licked his way back up to my bum cheeks. He spend a lot of time kissing and biting my bum cheeks, telling me what a pretty and girlish bum that I had.

Then I felt his tongue go into the crack, and I nearly screamed when I felt his tongue there. I could not believe how lovely and sensuous it felt. He did that for a few minutes then he told me that I had a sweet pussy. Then he started to insert his tongue, which made me go crazy. Without even touching myself, I came in a wonderful orgasm.

He knew what he was doing to me too. I felt like I was some kind of musical instrument and that he was playing me. He took me to heights of emotion and sensation that I did not even know that I could feel. I wondered if every lover was like this one. I was sure that they were not, because Sarah always complained about how her boy friends never cared about her being satisfied, as long as she got their rocks off for them.

Once he felt that he had gotten me stretched a bit, I felt his finger entering me as he applied lubricating gel to me. It was cool and felt terrible, but the feel of that strong finger going way up inside of me was just wonderful. I lay there, finding that I kept pushing my bum up to him, as though to try and make myself even more accessible to him, if that was possible. I wanted more of it.

After a while, his finger graduated to two fingers. Then his fingers graduated to three fingers. I felt like he had opened up a huge gaping hole in me. So far I had experienced some discomfort, but not pain. Then I felt his chest on my upper back, as he whispered in my ear and told me that it was time to become a real woman, and to take a cock the way that nature intended for a woman to take a cock.

I felt the head of it at my anus lips. He gently began to push it in. At first it felt like I had to go to the bathroom really badly. He slowed down, telling me that he was aware of what a little sissy that I was, and that he did not want to hurt me, but that I was going to get myself fucked whether I liked it or not.

He worked himself into me very slowly, one inch at a time. It went from pain to pleasure, and back and forth as he gradually worked himself all the way into me. When I could feel his pubic hair on my bum cheeks, I knew that I was as full of cock as I could get, like a girl is designed to be.

Then we relaxed and I could feel him start to fuck me. He moved back out of me slowly, then back in to fill me up again. It was mostly discomfort that I felt as he had taken so long to open me up that he had prevented all the pain that I should have felt.

He rested his weight on me and began to just move his pelvis.

I felt ecstatic. I was getting fucked like a woman. This is what I wanted from a man, I knew. I wanted his cock to fill me like this because he thought I was a girl. Yes, I liked it so much that I would roll over for my daddy any time that he asked me to. Heck, I knew that I might even try to get him to want to screw me like this again.

He was so gentle the way that he was fucking me. I loved it once I had stretched enough to accommodate him. I was rock hard again, and I was not able to stop myself from cumming again as he fucked me. Yes, I felt right being on the bottom, and having a man moving inside of me like this. This is how women get it, and this was how I wanted it.

I could not believe it when I actually felt him starting to get even bigger inside of me. Then his pace became rigid and rapid, his breathing erratic as he breathed in my ear, and I knew that like a woman, I was going to receive a man's cum deep inside of me. I caught my breath. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel him cumming inside of me. I wanted him to fuck his essence right into me.

He stiffened and he shuddered driving himself deeply into me, till he finally collapsed on top of me. He was so spent that he did not move for a long time. I felt his cock start to soften inside of me. I could hardly believe that I had just been fucked like a real girl.

I felt kind of euphoric. It was lovely to know that I had so completely assumed the feminine role with a real man. It was heavenly. I should not feel like this. Guys were not supposed to like being on the receiving end of a hard on, but I had loved it. I had felt loved. I had felt utterly natural in the ultimate submission to the feminine role. He'd made me feel totally like a woman, and for that, I loved him.

The rest of the week was mostly more of the same kind of training as the first two days had held for me. As I grew in the role that the court had ordered me to assume, I become more and more convinced that this was the real me. This was how I should have been raised. I was a woman inside of me.

As for making it with another male, I knew that I loved being the lovee, rather than the lover. I also knew that over the next few months, that I was going to try and make other guys fuck me like this too. This was just too nice. Being a girl was just so very much better than being a guy was. I was anxious to find out if I too could manipulate the guys the way that I had seen Sarah do. No matter what she did to them, they came back for more of her. I wanted to be in the control, like she was. I wanted to have guys all over me like that too.

The end of the beginning.

  

  

  

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