Shelly Plays Tennis

by Carla P.

 

"I'm sorry, Mickey. I wish I could change things, but the rules are the rules. Unless your on-court performance improves dramatically within the next month, then your scholarship will be cancelled at the end of this semester."

"Where will that leave me then, Mr Greenwood?"

Mickey was now seriously worried. If his scholarship was cancelled, then he would have to find the college fees somewhere else or vacate his position, with another year still to complete his degree. There was no way his mother could afford the cost, even for a single year. He had already borrowed to the max, so whatever loan he could raise now wouldn't cover anything like the amount he needed to pay the college fees and his living and other expenses for a whole year. His tennis scholarship was an absolute pre-requisite to the completion of his studies at the college.

"If you have to finish here, then you can try to find a place at another school. Your academic results are ok, so you should be able to complete your degree without too much trouble. Your record will be transferable, naturally."

"That doesn't solve my money problems," thought Mickey silently.

"I am trying my best on the court, Coach," he pleaded aloud. "It's just that the other guys are a lot bigger than me now. I just can't match their power game."

"It's true, your game is very good technically Mickey... but you have to win occasionally, and you haven't won a set, let alone a match, since half-way through last year. The College's standards are very high, and a tennis scholar, or any other sporting scholar for that matter, must demonstrate successful ability if they want to continue here. Essentially, if you want to stay you have to be a winner."

"Ok, Coach, I'll see what I can come up with."

Mickey got up to leave.

"Just do your best, Mickey," said Coach Greenwood. "I'm sure it'll work out."

"Easy for you to say, you miserable bastard." Mickey thought as he left the office.

He could see no way that it was going to work out. He had gotten into this school purely on the strength of his tennis ability as a teenager. He had been an identified talent as a sixteen-year old at high school, almost a prodigy, very well coached and technically very proficient. Always rather slight, however, he now struggled to match the sheer strength of the other guys, both within the team, and in inter-college competitions. The coach was right, he hadn't won anything for months, and it wasn't getting any easier. Whichever way he looked at it, his future now looked very bleak.

"What's the problem, Mickey?"

The question came from Cynthia Marston, the female tennis coach. She'd always had a soft-spot for Mickey, coupled with a genuine respect for his tennis-playing ability. She was no great admirer of brute strength on the court, although Coach Greenwood's brute strength off-court was a different matter.

"Hi, Miss Marston," replied Mickey. "It looks as though I'm outta here at the end of the semester. They're going to cancel my scholarship 'cos my tennis results aren't good enough."

"Oh, that can't be right!" exclaimed Cynthia. "You've got the best technique of any student here, boy or girl. There must be something we can do about it."

"Well I wish I knew, Miss Marston. I can't think of anything. I depend on this scholarship completely, you know."

"Call me Cynthia, Mickey. Yes I do know. God, it would be such a waste of a great talent if you couldn't stay. I wish I had you on my team. You know, you're just too good a tennis player to be a guy!"

She placed a maternal arm over Mickey's shoulder.

"Leave it with me," she added thoughtfully. "I might just be able to come up with something."

"Thanks, Cynthia," Mickey replied. "I really hope so."

He just didn't think so.

He leaned back against the wall and watched as Cynthia walked away down the path, her auburn hair, drawn back in a pony-tail, swinging from side to side in a gentle rhythm with the short white tennis skirt that swayed across the cheeks of her firm, rounded ass. For a woman in her late thirties, she still had a beautiful and athletic figure atop long, shapely, nicely-tanned legs. Mickey knew that she had been a very good player herself, a top-one-hundred pro at twenty-four, had won several tournaments, and was now a highly-regarded coach with a reputation for developing her proteges' technique to a high standard of proficiency. He didn't know that her greatest ambition was to produce a real grand-slam contender.

Downcast, Mickey sauntered over to the cafeteria and bought a coke. Looking at his prospects, he thought that at the very least he would need to concentrate on his academic work for the rest of the semester in order to enhance his chances for a place at another college. He would still have to continue with the tennis program as that was a binding condition of his scholarship, and would help to keep him fit anyway. Spying his friends George and Eric on their way to a lecture, he ran to catch them up. Life goes on, he figured, and friends are friends, so he might as well continue to have as much fun as he could while it lasted.

Mickey was up early next morning as always, went for a jog around the park then showered and went for breakfast. He was now almost resigned to leaving within several months, but was committed to maintaining his routine. George and Eric had commiserated with his plight, and even suggested that if they went easy on him he would look better on court, but Mickey laughed that off as a well-intentioned but improbable joke. It wouldn't fool anybody, least of all Coach Greenwood. It was just too bad.

"Hi Mickey, I've had an idea."

Mickey looked up from his muesli. It was Cynthia Marston, radiant in the early morning sunlight. She sat down directly opposite Mickey and smiled, her even white teeth gleaming softly between wide, moist lips.

"I think I can arrange a temporary grant to keep you here. It's not official yet, but bear with me. I've got a great young talent in my squad, you know Jennifer don't you?"

Mickey nodded and Cynthia continued...

"Well, you may not realize it, but she's got tremendous potential. The only trouble is that she's being held back by a lack of serious opposition to practice against. The other girls are not really up to her standard. So, my idea is really simple. You can continue your studies and play against Jennifer instead of the other guys. You will really test her technically and strength-wise as well, although she won't be far off your pace, believe me. It'll help her enormously, and it'll enable you to finish your studies. A win-win result as they say. You don't have to agree yet, I still have to finalize the details, but leave it with me for now, and I'll get back to you in a few days, ok?"

Mickey was almost speechless.

"Um, thanks Cynthia, that will be a real help."

He didn't know quite what to think. What would the guys say? How much crap would he get if he went along with it? On the other hand, if it meant he could stay and finish his degree, any amount of crap might well be worth it. Anyway, whatever Cynthia came up with wouldn't come into play until the following year, so Mickey decided it would probably be just as well to say nothing about it for the time being. What the guys didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Or Mickey.

As it happened, Mickey didn't see Cynthia again for a couple of weeks. He was packing his gear into his bag after an afternoon workout with Coach Greenwood and some of the team when she suddenly appeared beside him on the bench.

"Sorry this has taken so long, Mickey, but it's a bit more complicated than I thought it would be. Are you still interested?"

"Well, I don't know, Cynthia... it all depends, I guess. I really want to come back next year, though."

Mickey had an inexplicable feeling, a mixture of reluctance and doubt that Cynthia seemed to detect immediately. She realized that she might have to be very persuasive. No problem. She was good at persuasion, especially where young males were concerned.

"Well, it's like this, Mickey. You're out of the team next semester, although Pete Greenwood did try his best for you. I asked him to, actually, and he did go out on a limb, but the Scholarship Committee couldn't be persuaded. It seems that they want to cut back on the tennis program anyway. I might be losing a couple of my own girls as it happens."

A group of the male team walked past towards the dressing room, looking back at Cynthia and Mickey in seemingly intimate discussion.

"Mickey, you horny little bastard, I never knew you had it in you," Eric joked to the others.

They burst into laughter.

"Well, he's gotta get something outta this place before next month!" rejoined one of the guys as they disappeared through the door.

"Just ignore them, Mickey," said Cynthia, "this is important. What it comes down to is this... you won't get any joy from the Committee, but there is another possibility. You remember my student, Jennifer, who I told you about?"

Mickey nodded.

"Yeah, of course. Seen her around a bit... she doesn't date though."

"Right," Cynthia continued, "that's part of the story, actually. The main point is, her family are as rich as Croesus and then some. The reason they sent her here is because they figure our training program will be her best shot at starting a pro career. Her father particularly has very high expectations for her. He could be very grateful and generous for years to come if Jennifer really makes the big-time. But we have to deliver. Next year, basically, two years tops. And that's where you come in."

"How, exactly?" queried Mickey.

"Like I said earlier, your job will be to practice with Jennifer, really stretch her out. Provide her with some real competition. The other girls can't, but the guys in your squad would demolish her. You would be perfect. You're actually about the same height and build as Jenny, your technical development is about a year or so ahead, your style is similar without being identical, and you won't blast her off the court with brute strength. One more year with that sort of preparation and I can see Jenny playing some serious tournaments. Maybe not Wimbledon or the French Open, but tough matches against name players."

"I still don't get it," Mickey interrupted. "How does this help me now?"

"Let me finish, Mickey," Cynthia replied firmly. "Mr Linley, that's Jenny's father by the way, is prepared to fund your studies for all of next year in return for your help with Jenny. As well as that, he's even agreed to fund two of my girls who would have had to finish along with you at the end of this semester. So we get three students for the price of one, Mickey, as long as you play ball that is," she continued insistently. "So don't let us down."

"Cynthia, you said you knew something about Jennifer not dating... what is that all about?"

"I was coming to that," said Cynthia. "As I told you, Mr Linley is devoted to helping Jenny's future as a tennis pro. He is also very, very protective of her. He definitely does not want any male distractions in her life. No dates, definitely no boyfriends. Studies and tennis are everything. So, don't get any silly ideas, ok? Your relationship with Jennifer will be a purely sporting affair."

Mickey sighed with a little regret. He didn't really know Jennifer at all, none of the guys did, but he knew she was a gorgeous blonde bombshell. He suddenly started...

"But... if Jennifer's dad doesn't want her seeing any guys, how can I play tennis with her every day for a whole year?"

"Simple. He won't know," stated Cynthia decisively. "Look Mickey, I have to rush. Come and see me in my office tomorrow morning, say ten-thirty, and we'll go over the details. Bye now."

Mickey had a lot to think over. The semester would finish in six weeks or so, and then he would have a week of exams to worry about. But he had serious doubts about Cynthia's scheme. How was he supposed to practise tennis with Jennifer for a whole academic year without her father finding out about it? If Mr Linley found that out, then Mickey's position at college was right down the tubes. Not to mention two female students as well. He still didn't know what the other guys would think about it, but they were bound to find out, and he could just imagine the ridicule he would be exposed to by friends like Eric and George, let alone anyone else. The whole thing was crazy.

The more Mickey thought about it, the more he figured that the best thing to do the next morning would be to tell Cynthia 'Thanks, but no thanks' and take his chances somewhere else. It would only be for a year, he could probably work his way through that. It was getting late, and he was hungry. He walked off to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. Tomorrow, he'd put an end to all this nonsense.

"Come on in Mickey, glad you could make it," said Cynthia. "You're a little early. You already know the girls, don't you?"

Mickey nearly gagged. He knew Melissa and Carole, Melissa had dated Eric for a while in their first year, and Carole was in a few of his classes. But this was the first time he had met Jennifer close up, and he was almost rooted to the spot. She really was a super-model in the making. The girls were sitting on a low couch in Cynthia's office, their long athletic legs crossed and draped over their knees, smooth thighs extending from silk running shorts, or in Jennifer's case, a skimpy yellow tennis skirt. Mickey was almost paralyzed by four beguiling female smiles, four sets of gleaming white teeth, four pairs of enchanting feminine eyes.

"You CAN say something, Mickey, you know," Cynthia stated encouragingly. "I never thought you were the shy type before."

Everything Mickey had wanted to say had dried up in his throat. All he could manage was...

"Yeah... Yeah, um, hi girls..."

Melissa jumped up, skipped over to Mickey and gave him a hug.

"I think you're just fantastic, Mickey. You've really saved our bacon. Thanks to you and Jenny's dad we can stay here next year. You're the coolest guy in the whole world!"

Carole followed suit...

"I was really dreading having to tell my folks that my scholarship was going to be cancelled. Now thanks to you Mickey, I won't have to!!"

She held Mickey's head between her slender, elegant hands and gave him a long kiss full on the lips. Jennifer reached out, took Mickey's hand and pulled him down beside her on the couch.

"I'm really looking forward to working out with you Mickey, I've watched you lots and you really are a terrific player. You're not just a blaster like the other guys. I don't want you to go easy on me either, you know, I really want to give this everything I've got. You will take this seriously, won't you?" she asked, looking directly into Mickey's eyes.

Mickey's sense of paralysis seemed almost inescapable. He was captivated by Jenny's clear blue eyes boring into him, as though she was holding his very soul in her hand.

"Yeah... yeah, sure, I can hardly... wait," he stammered.

"Ok girls, I think Mickey gets the picture," Cynthia interrupted.

"Now, Mickey," she continued, "all the financial details are pretty well settled. You, Melissa and Carole can simply start back here next semester as if nothing has changed. Jenny and I went to see her father last week to arrange all of it, so you have nothing to worry about, ok?"

"But how did you get Jenny's dad to agree?" Mickey asked. "I mean, from what you said..."

"There's no problem, Mickey," Jennifer interrupted. "Daddy thinks you're actually a girl called Shelly who just happens to be nearly as good a tennis player as I am. He's way too busy to watch me practise, he only ever comes to see me play in competition, so he'll never actually see us together."

"It's just a minor administrative matter, Mickey," explained Cynthia. "Mr Linley thinks he's paying for a girl called Michelle Webster when he's really paying for Michael Webster. Just a simple spelling mistake really. Nothing to concern yourself about."

Mickey wondered, but was incapable of protest.

"Look, Mickey, it'll work out perfectly," Cynthia continued. "The best thing you can do now is to just get on with your program for the rest of this semester. Then you can go on vacation, and come back next year to finish your studies. When you think about it, your future is assured, and you hardly have to do a thing except play a little tennis with Jenny. What's more, Mr Linley has promised to show his appreciation at the end of the year if it all goes as well as I promised him. So what could be better or easier than that?"

It was hard for Mickey to argue with that. Who could possibly say no to the prospect of sharing a tennis court with a babe like Jenny for a whole year? And get paid for it into the bargain! He could swallow an awful lot of crap from his friends and still come out ahead. He got up to walk out, his head still spinning in a daze. Melissa blew him a kiss...

"Thanks again Mickey. You'll never regret this, I promise!"

If there were any bells in the back of Mickey's head, they definitely weren't ringing. He walked down to the cafeteria in a daze. Cynthia was right, he decided. All he had to do was play a bit of tennis, something he was already very good at, and everything else would fall into place. He could hardly believe that for the first time in his life, it looked as though he was going to get something for almost nothing. He felt better already. He'd already forgotten what he meant to tell Cynthia earlier. And after all, it would be just a simple spelling mistake...

The rest of the semester went like a breeze for Mickey. He studied hard, kept up at his tennis, and went through the final exams without doing his grade point average any harm at all. He hung out with the guys, saw the girls around campus a bit, and generally felt pretty good about the future. Then the sky fell in.

"Houston, we have a problem!" Jennifer flopped down onto the couch in Cynthia's office.

"Whatever is the matter Jenny?" Cynthia enquired anxiously.

"It's Daddy! You'll never guess what he's done!"

"Tell me," encouraged Cynthia.

"Well you know how concerned he is about my personal welfare? He's gone and hired a bodyguard to look after me next semester."

"Damn!" Cynthia exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's what I said" Jenny replied. "But it gets worse."

"How?"

"He also wants video of all my tennis training so he can follow my progress. And to make sure he's getting value for his money."

"Oh shit!!"

"Yeah, I said that too."

Cynthia stood up and paced across the floor, thinking furiously. She stopped suddenly.

"Wait, wait... this is a private campus... your bodyguard won't be allowed in."

"That's right," Jennifer agreed. "But he's going to stay in an apartment just off-campus, and knowing Daddy, he'll really be a chaperone more than a bodyguard. If he picks up as much as a whisper that I'm playing tennis regularly with a guy, it'll get straight back to Daddy, believe me."

"Then we'll just have to make sure your chaperone is kept in the dark," Cynthia suggested.

"That's easy to say, but it doesn't solve the other problem."

"Well, if your Daddy wants to see you playing tennis, then we can give him some video footage of you against Carole or Melissa or one of the other girls."

"No, that'll never work. Daddy's not stupid. He will expect to see me really working hard against a top quality opponent. Besides, he already knows Melissa and Carole, and all the other girls, since they were all at my last birthday party. If he's paying for a girl called Shelly, then he'll expect to see a girl called Shelly who he's never met before."

Cynthia sat down on the couch next to Jennifer, placed her arm over Jenny's shoulders, and spoke softly in a conspiratorial tone...

"Well, if Daddy wants to see Shelly, then we'll just have to give him Shelly, won't we?"

"How can we do that?" asked Jennifer.

"Just leave it to me," Cynthia replied. "I'll work it out."

These were unwelcome complications for Cynthia. She could see all her dreams of becoming a full-time professional (and highly-paid) coach for Jennifer evaporating before her eyes. She was certain Jenny could go all the way with the right support and preparation, and who better to provide that than Cynthia Marston? Still, she was nothing if not resourceful and determined, and she had plenty of time before the start of the next semester to plan and implement a solution.

She knew she could rely on Jennifer's help. Jenny would be devastated if her best friends were forced to quit college. At worst, she might even decide to leave herself. Melissa and Carole would naturally do anything she asked of them if they wanted to stay... she knew she could arrange the administrative details without too much trouble, she'd been at the college more than long enough to create a very effective network of friends and allies... that just left Mickey. No problem. No problem at all.

Mickey had gone home for the vacation feeling pretty pleased with himself. The future looked rosy, even his mother was surprised by the sudden absence of stress, given that Mickey had seemed almost clinically depressed a few months earlier. She in turn was embarking on a new direction in life. She had divorced Mickey's father many years before, when Mickey was very young, and they had had no contact with him since. Now she was involved with a new man, and they were planning to get married and move to Europe in the new year. Since Mickey appeared to be in complete control of his life now, she figured that she could go away and leave him to it. She had her own life to live anyway.

Cynthia leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee. Everything would fall into place just as she had planned. She still had to explain the details to the girls, but that would be a fairly straightforward exercise. Mickey, of course, was a different matter. If she approached him too soon he might very well panic and move to another college altogether. That definitely wouldn't do. No, better wait until it would be too late for him to go anywhere else, anywhere worthwhile, that is...say about two weeks before the start of next semester... then she could spring the trap. And it would be for his own good, anyway. It WOULD be a waste of his talents if he had to leave, he might even give tennis up altogether. This way, he would be using his ability in a very good cause, and expanding his personality and life-experience in a way that scarcely any other young man would ever have the opportunity to do. It would give him an insight into the female world and psyche that wouldn't do him any harm at all. In fact he'd probably like it a lot. Yes, it was all going to work out just fine... she took another sip and relaxed.

"You must be CRAZY!! NO WAY! NO WAY!!!"

"Mickey, there's really no other way around this now. If you don't come through, you're finished here, Melissa and Carole are finished here, and Jennifer's tennis career will be set back at least two years. I'm sorry I couldn't contact you earlier, but I haven't known about it for very long myself."

That wasn't absolutely true, of course, Cynthia had known about it for a couple of months, but that was largely immaterial now. It was two weeks before the start of the new academic year, and Mickey had returned to campus early in response to a request from Cynthia, who had told him that they had some important matters to discuss.

"You can't be serious!! I am NOT going to pretend to be a GIRL!! No Way!!"

Mickey was horrified at what Cynthia had just suggested.

"Look, Mickey, it's now too late for you to get a place anywhere else. And on top of that, nobody here is actually expecting you back this semester. You didn't tell your friends you were coming back did you?"

"Well not really," Mickey conceded, "I told the guys, see ya next time round, I wanted to surprise them all. You said everything was arranged."

"Yes I know, but things have changed since then. I'm sorry, Mickey. Carole emailed George during the vacation, asking about you. The truth is, none of the guys is really expecting you back. The college isn't expecting you back... Michael James Webster isn't even enrolled for this semester. But Michelle Jane Webster is. Shelly's academic record from her previous college is practically identical to yours, as it happens."

Cynthia had called in a lot of favors, both in the college administration, and from friends in a college in another state. She continued...

"As I told you last year, Mickey, we can just treat it as a spelling mistake... you complete your studies this year as Michelle, then at the end of the year, we 'discover' the mistake and put it right. Your academic record is updated appropriately and then you can graduate. Trust me, I'm good at this."

"And where am I supposed to stay? How can I go to lectures without being recognized by somebody? I've already been here for two years, for chrissakes! Everybody knows me!!"

Mickey was livid.

"Calm down, Mickey. You will stay with the other girls. They've got a spare room arranged. You can do all your work on-line anyway. You won't have to go to lectures at all. You'll almost certainly never see any of the guys on the tennis court either, since your practising times are completely different."

"And where will all the clothes come from?" Mickey enquired.

"Jennifer has very generously donated her entire wardrobe to you, since you're almost exactly the same size. She's already bought a whole new set of clothes for herself."

Cynthia could see that Mickey was confused as well as angry. Naturally, he hadn't expected any of this, and didn't know quite how to react rationally. She'd just have to make up his mind for him, she decided. Time to move in for the kill.

"As I said, Mickey, we really have no alternative. It's this or nothing. By the way," she continued, "I've got something else to show you."

"What, exactly?" asked Mickey angrily.

"It's a surprise. In the other room. Follow me, Mickey."

With a grunt of exasperation, Mickey walked after Cynthia through the door into a side room. Cynthia turned to him and said...

"It's a surprise, Mickey. You have to cover your eyes."

With a shrug, Mickey placed his hands over his eyes.

"Ready?" asked Cynthia.

"Yeah... whatever," Mickey responded.

With a smooth, supple movement, Cynthia slid her slender right hand down the front of Mickey's track pants, inside his shorts, then grasping his genitals, said…

"Surprise!"

Mickey jolted upright as though he had been struck by lightning. Cynthia reached behind his head with her left hand and pulled Mickey forward. She enclosed his lips with hers, and forced her luscious tongue deep into Mickey's mouth. He felt her hot breath searing into his lungs. His hands grasped Cynthia's waist for desperate balance as she deftly pumped his erecting penis with her warm hand. She withdrew her tongue and whispered...

"Good boy, Mickey, good boy..."

Mickey's heart beat raced and his breath began to gasp... his knees turned to jelly as his penis reached a gigantic erection inside Cynthia's guiding grip. She gently pushed him backwards, closing the door behind them. She tongued him again and stroked his cock harder, running the fingers of her other hand through his hair. Mickey felt intoxicated by Cynthia's scent, a delicious mix of her perfume and the female aroma of her body. She gave him a few hard strokes more, then he exploded into a furious, uncontrollable orgasm, his whole body jerking into a spasm of ecstasy. His legs felt like water as Cynthia gently guided him onto a chair, then straddled him, pinning his waist between her powerful thighs, her hot crotch rubbing Mickey's stomach sensuously. She held his head in her hands, her long elegant fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp, then she kissed and tongued him again. Resting her forearms on Mickey's shoulders, she leaned forward, rubbing her breasts in his face and whispered...

"Now who does Mickey belong to? Where's Mickey going to go? Mommie's going away... who's gonna look after Mickey now?"

All Mickey could do was gasp and shake.

"I think it's time to take you home, Mickey," Cynthia said finally.

Standing up, she led Mickey by the hand out through the office, and pausing to make sure no-one else was nearby, drew him to her car, parked close by. She opened the passenger's door and pushed him onto the seat. Closing the door, she quickly climbed into the driver's seat, started the car and drove off. All the while, Mickey sat limply, breathing slowly and heavily. In a few minutes the car drew up at a large two-storey house in the college grounds. Cynthia hopped out, skipped around to Mickey's side, then helped him up the path to the front door. The door opened, and Carole came out to help them inside.

Melissa closed the door behind them and said...

"Welcome home, Mickey."

Cynthia responded..."You mean welcome home Shelly, Melissa. Now let the fun begin!"

All the girls laughed... Mickey just shook his head and said...

"Oh man, oh man.."

In fact the fun couldn't begin immediately, as Mickey was in no state to comply. He could only lie down on the bed in his new room and keep repeating...

"Oh man, oh boy..."

Cynthia and the girls left Mickey alone to recover some equilibrium. They had been very busy for several weeks making arrangements for the new year. Jenny was still away on vacation, along with the four other resident girls, Helen, Angela, Christine and Vicki. Of course, it had been important to involve all of them or the whole idea would have doomed to failure. Thankfully, they had all been agreeable, even enthusiastic, their sense of loyalty to their friends and the prospect of an exciting and amusing diversion from the mundanities of campus existence overriding any concerns about disciplinary consequences. In any case, Angela had ventured, the better they all helped Mickey to act out his part, the easier it would be to deny any knowledge of his genuine identity if his cover was blown. They could act as outraged dupes and leave him to take all the crap!! Who would believe him anyway?

Mickey, having regained some control of himself, looked around his new room. He saw that it was a reasonable size, light and airy, and not overly feminine let alone effeminate. He was sitting on the edge of a double bed covered by a colorful douvet. Against one wall sat a desk with a computer and a bookshelf. There were also a large chest of drawers, an armchair and a walk-in wardrobe. What held his attention, however, was a dressing table with a large mirror attached. The top of the table was liberally strewn with a variety of female cosmetic products, most of which appeared a complete mystery to him.

"What the hell is all this stuff?," he wondered.

He opened the wardrobe door and saw that it was full of skirts, dresses, girls' jackets and pants, and a quite a few pairs of shoes.

"Man, it looks like a department store in here!" he exclaimed.

He pulled the top drawer of the chest to find that it was full of folded tops, t-shirts, and blouses of various colors. The second drawer, however, was a real treasure chest. It was full to the brim with panties, bras, slips and other assorted items of lingerie. He remembered Cynthia's words about Jenny's generosity, and wondered...

"God, are these all hers?"

He gently picked out a pair of lacy white panties. They felt incredibly light and flimsy in his hand... he had noticed that all the clothes in the room were scented with a delicate fragrance that he couldn't quite identify... he held the panties to his nostrils and inhaled deeply. The effect was sheer mesmerization. He sat back on the edge of the bed and lay on his back, the panties still held to his face, and thought to himself...

"This can't be happening, I can't be here, playing with Jenny's panties, and she doesn't even mind!! It just can't be true!! The other guys could only dream about doing something like this! Man, this year is gonna be a breeze! It's gonna be dynamite!"

And to cap it all, Cynthia had the total hots for him! It was just all too good to be believed!

In fact the panties weren't Jenny's at all, she drew the line at underwear, but Carole and Melissa had been happy to pitch in, and Cynthia had contributed as well. It was actually a pair of her panties that Mickey was currently enraptured with. He still had them draped over his face when she entered the room...

"Good to see you making yourself at home, Shelly..." she laughed. "Don't worry, there's no need to be embarrassed! We all love luscious lingerie, and you've got more than enough here to keep you happy."

Mickey sat up sheepishly, gently placing the panties down on the bed. Cynthia sat next to him and took his hand in hers.

"Well, let's get down to business. We've got two weeks to get you in shape. All the girls will help, they're committed to making this work, so don't worry about not passing, they'll let you know if anything looks out of place, and they'll help you get it right. We'll start right away, ok? I want you to have a shower and get rid of all the hair on your arms, body and legs. A real close facial shave too, although I notice you're not exactly hairy there anyway. Then we'll get you dressed and made-up."

Pointing to a side-door she said "You've got an en-suite bathroom in there, so you won't have to share with the girls. You'll find everything you need inside, soaps, oils, shampoos, bath-salts, depilatory cream. If you need any help, just knock on the wall, but don't yell out, whatever you do. You never know who might be passing by. So, let's get on with it!"

She stood up and led Mickey by the hand toward the bathroom. Opening the door, she gently pushed Mickey through.

"Take as long as you like, Shelly, there's no hurry. We'll be in the lounge when you're ready to get dressed."

Mickey did take a while. He spent quite a few minutes trying to make sense of the bewildering collection of personal hygiene products he found in the bathroom, before he even got into the shower. After that, shampooing his hair was easy, shaving was easy, but the hair-removing cream was a bit of a mystery. Still, he did his best, and since he didn't have a lot of body-hair to start with, the result wasn't too bad. All the time, he was dreaming of his next sexual encounter with Cynthia, which he was sure would be even more exciting than the first brief but mind-blowing experience.

"Oh boy, this is gonna be fun!!" he kept repeating to himself.

He dried off, then donned a white bath-robe that was conveniently hanging on the back of the door.

"Ok, I'm ready," he said, poking his head round the corner of the lounge door.

"Great," replied Cynthia, "let's get moving."

She directed Mickey back into his room, where he noticed a small pile of clothes neatly piled on his bed. Cynthia closed the door behind them.

"It'll just be me and you to start with, since we already know each other so well," she continued. "Then the girls can help you out with the finishing touches."

She was holding a plastic bowl half-full of water and had a hand-towel folded over her forearm.

"Oh man, are we gonna get dirty again already?" Mickey mused silently as Cynthia soaked the towel in the water, then wrung it out into the bowl.

"Ok, take off the robe, Shelly," ordered Cynthia.

Mickey was suddenly frozen with uncertainty. It wasn't quite the same as before...

"C'mon Shelly, it's not like we've got any secrets, you know..."

Mickey nervously undid the belt round the robe and clumsily tried to let it fall open, self-consciously turning away from Cynthia as he did so. With an exasperated sigh she grabbed the robe by the shoulders, and swiftly pulled it off, leaving Mickey standing stark naked in front of her. He could already feel the beginning of another erection, just as Cynthia stepped forward with the wet towel folded in her right hand.

"Just in time," she said as she pressed the wet towel hard against Mickey's genitals.

He gasped with surprise..."Shit, that's freezing!"

"Exactly, it's very effective. You may have to learn to do this yourself later on," Cynthia stated firmly.

Mickey felt his penis shrivelling away into a tiny limp sliver of flesh, and his testicles and scrotum shrinking back into his crotch. He felt powerless in the hands of this witch who could command him to an explosive orgasm one minute, then totally diminish his masculinity the next.

"Now, let's put this on," she continued, picking up something that looked to Mickey like a woman's one-piece swim-suit, made of a flesh-colored stretch material, something like spandex or lycra. She held it open at the top for Mickey to step into.

"C'mon Shelly, you must be getting cold... do you want me to get help?"

That was too much for Mickey. He gently lifted one foot through a leg-hole, then the other. Cynthia pulled the garment up over Mickey's thighs and hips until it pressed tightly over his crotch and butt. She stretched the upper part until it covered his chest as well. After giving it a few tugs and stretches to make it fit properly, she said...

"Not bad, not bad at all! Take a look in the mirror, Shelly."

Mickey did as she said. He could see that he was wearing a sort of body-shaping garment that was tight around the waist, and well-padded in the butt with some sort of rubber or foam filling. Similarly, there were built-in breast forms that filled out his chest. All in all, as he looked at his reflection in stunned surprise, Mickey could see that there now appeared to be a decidedly female shape to his body. Not a classic hour-glass figure, to be sure, but passably feminine without a doubt. And it had only taken thirty seconds!

He still felt a little uncomfortable in the genital region and went to make an adjustment. Cynthia quickly slid her hand under the fabric and straightened out his twisted penis, then tucked it back between his legs. She withdrew her hand, and patting his crotch gently, said...

"There, how's that?"

"Christ!" thought Mickey. "Do I even own my own body any more?"

He then realized, as he looked in the mirror, that his crotch now appeared to be just like a girl's, hardly a trace of a bulge, just a smooth V-shape of fabric disappearing back between his thighs.

"You have several of these, so you won't need to wear the same one everyday," said Cynthia.

"Now, time to get dressed. Panties first. Why don't you try that pair you had before, Shelly? You obviously like them," she continued with a self-satisfied smile.

Mickey picked the panties off the bed and slid them over his legs, then pulled them up to fit snugly around his waist. They stretched nicely over the padding on his butt.

"And now for a bra... I'm sure there must be a match in here somewhere," said Cynthia, feigning uncertainty.

"Oh yes, here it is," she continued, pulling out a matching bra from the drawer.

"Perfect. Put this on, Shelly. Do you know how?"

Mickey didn't know, exactly, so Cynthia helped him, clipping the strap together at the back, then adjusting the shoulder straps so that it hung comfortably over the breast forms. Looking at the mirror again Mickey was astonished at how well his new underwear seemed to complement his body form. He certainly appeared almost totally female from the neck down.

"Wow!!" said Melissa.

"Far out!!" said Carole.

"I have to go," said Cynthia, "so I'll leave Shelly in your capable hands, girls. I'm sure you'll soon have her looking fantastic. I'll see you tomorrow, Shelly. Bye now."

The girls set to with a will. Mickey soon found himself wearing panty-hose, a knee-length blue denim skirt, and a white top with thin shoulder straps. A pair of black wedge-soled shoes completed the basic outfit. Apart from his face and hair, he looked much like any female student on campus, dressed comfortably but not too showy. Mickey walked up and down the room a few times, placing one foot in front of the other, as the girls instructed. Walking with splayed feet and legs apart would be a dead giveaway, they confirmed. The shoes were quite easy to wear, he found, and he liked the freedom the skirt gave him to move about. He soon learned to smooth out the butt of the skirt with his hand whenever he sat down, to avoid it bunching up under his ass. Crossing his legs was a little uncomfortable, he found that he couldn't quite place one leg completely over the other the way the girls did without causing discomfort in his genital region. It was easier to keep his legs parallel to each other, and resting at an angle with the ankles crossed.

Surprisingly, it seemed a fairly comfortable transition, until he went to the toilet.

"Goddam! This is impossible!" he cursed as he stood in front of the toilet with panty-hose and panties down around his ankles, his skirt hitched up around his waist, trying to release his penis from inside the constrictions of the body-shaper.

He soon realized it would be much easier to sit down to urinate. He found after a little fumbling that the crotch section of the body-shaper was held together by several metal domes. When he unclipped them, his genitals were fully free and he was able to take a leak sitting down with no further drama.

"Shit, what a mission. It has to get easier than this!" he muttered to himself as he put everything back into place and smoothed out the wrinkles.

Back in the bedroom, Melissa sat him down in a chair in front of the dressing table. Carole sat on the bed brushing out a light-brown wig.

"Some foundation first," said Melissa, "we probably won't get this right first time, but I love experimenting."

She smoothed some foundation over Mickey's face, using a damp makeup sponge. With a pair of small tweezers, she carefully plucked some excess hairs from Mickey's eyebrows to a chorus of...

"Fuck! Shit! Ouch!"

"Sorry, Shelly..." she apologized, "that'll have to do for now. We can do some more later."

She then applied some mascara to Mickey's eyelashes, and carefully drew a little eyeliner around his eyes.

"We won't overdo anything today, Shelly, just enough to give us some idea of how you're going to look your best," she continued, as Carole looked on approvingly.

"Now for a little lipstick," she said. She chose a fairly light pink variety and gently spread it onto Mickey's lips.

"The light color will make your lips look a bit bigger, Shelly," she said. "You know how to smooth it out don't you?"

Mickey grunted and rubbed his lips together as he had often seen girls do, smoothing the lipstick out.

"Ok, now for the crowning touch," said Carole. She stretched out the cap of the wig and pulled it over Mickey's scalp. His short brown hair didn't present much of an obstacle. Carole arranged the tresses to fall over Mickey's ears and collar, and patted the wig firmly down from the top.

"Ok, let's take a look," she said, as Mickey stood up to admire himself in the mirror.

"Oh boy!" he exclaimed.

His reflection presented the image of a reasonably attractive young woman, quite convincing even at close range, the shoulder-length hair of the wig framing his youthful made-up face.

"It's a good start, but we'll get much better," stated Melissa decisively.

"Yeah," agreed Carole. "She could fool most guys now. This time next week there won't be a girl on campus who'll be able to pick her."

They did get a whole lot better. Each day they experimented with different foundations, teaching Mickey how to apply it himself. They finally settled on a shade that effectively disguised any trace of beard, given that Mickey didn't have a lot to disguise anyway. Melissa decided to electrolyze some of Mickey's eyebrows, to spare him the agony of constant re-plucking. She also tried it out on his upper lip, around the nose where Mickey couldn't shave very closely. It seemed to improve the look a little.

Carole tried several different wigs, they settled on a light-brown one a little more than shoulder-length that could be tied back in a pony-tail, essential for tennis. His ears were pierced, so he could wear small studs. They taught Mickey how to apply mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick and blush. Mickey got used to wearing the body-shapers, he found that he almost grew into them, and he tried out a variety of skirts and dresses, being pleasantly surprised how comfortable they were. Jeans were a little tougher, if the butt was a good fit, the waist was too tight, if the waist fitted, the butt was too big. Maybe a bit more padding would do the trick.

All in all, Cynthia was impressed, Melissa and Carole were proud of their creation, and Mickey felt a quiet sense of satisfaction at just how well he could carry it off.

"I could get used to this," he said to himself, lying in bed one night, curled up in a filmy red nightie and panties.

For the first week, Mickey scarcely moved out of the house. He was terrified of recognition and exposure by someone he knew. At the very least, he thought, his voice would give him away. The girls brought him his food and drink, and he spent most of his time trying out new outfits and adjusting his make-up. Several times, after dark, they all went out for walks through the campus and park areas, avoiding groups of people wherever possible. Mickey felt a sense of daring and excitement on those occasions, but the constrictions of the body-former effectively prevented any erectile embarrassments. Back in his room, in any case, he was free to relieve himself with the help of an abundance of female underwear, all of which he still firmly believed came from Jenny.

"Nothing wrong with a little harmless fetishism," he figured, as he masturbated with a pair of Melissa's panties draped over his face.

One important detail remaining to be settled was an identification photo for Shelly's student record. They used Carole's digital camera to photograph Shelly in a series of poses and lighting conditions, and all agreed that any one of them would suffice, even without a Photoshop touch-up.

Cynthia logged into the administration network, and using her read-write permission as a faculty member, uploaded the image into Shelly's file. Now anybody accessing that file would be presented with the profile and picture of a typical, attractive young female student.

Issuing Shelly with a student id card was a simple matter, quickly attended to by Cynthia.

By the beginning of the second week, Mickey was fairly comfortable playing the role of Shelly within the confines of the girls' house.

"She's taken to it like a duck to water," laughed Carole to Melissa, but in fact he was beginning to feel a little doubtful about his relationship with Cynthia. Since their first overpowering contact, nothing much else had happened. They saw each other most days, but Cynthia seemed to treat him just as one of the girls, full of feminine advice and maternal reassurance, but no apparent erotic interest. After a few more days, Mickey was starting to feel a little moody, and it wasn't too difficult for Cynthia to guess why.

"Feel like a game Shelly?" she asked early one morning.

"A game?" queried Mickey, "what of?"

"Well tennis, duh..." replied Cynthia.

"Um, yeah... but..."

"Properly dressed Shelly, naturally, you have to start sooner or later. And who knows," continued Cynthia in a soft, seductive voice, straightening out the straps on Shelly's top, "the fun might not stop there."

Mickey was ready in a flash. He quickly changed into a pale lemon colored one-piece outfit. This really was one of Jenny's old cast-offs. White shoes, socks and wrist-bands, and a sun-visor with the wig pony-tail threaded through the back completed the look.

Mickey and Cynthia walked together down to the tennis courts carrying their gear bags hung from their shoulders. There were a few people about, but no-one close enough to give Mickey a fright, and in any case he felt unusually comfortable as Cynthia chatted about her pro career. Reaching the courts, Cynthia unlocked the gate, then locked it again after they had gone through.

"No need to take any risks," she thought.

They warmed up with a few long rallies, then Cynthia suggested a game of two sets to start, and a decider if need be. Mickey served first. Cynthia's return was very powerful, she caught Mickey by surprise. He tried aceing her with his next serve, but once again she was ready for him. It was soon clear to Mickey that this was no ordinary tennis club bimbo, but an accomplished athlete.

"If Jenny is half this good, this year is gonna be damn hard work," he muttered to himself.

He felt completely at ease in his new outfit, in fact he didn't give it a second thought as he concentrated on trying to win back a point after Cynthia had broken his serve. The first set went to Cynthia 6-4. Mickey adjusted his game for the second set, less power and more agility, he thought.

"I'll wear her out. She's older than she looks, after all."

And she looked damned good, as it happened. She was dressed in a sky-blue outfit with a short skirt that flew out as she stretched to reach the ball, revealing matching panties. Mickey had found them more than a little distracting in the first set, but knuckled down to take the second 6-3. The third went to a tie-break, however, so they decided to call it an honorable draw.

As they packed up to leave, Cynthia walked over to the umpire's stand and checked something in a cabinet under the seat.

"This'll surprise her," she laughed silently.

Back at the house, they found themselves alone. Carole and Melissa had gone out. In Shelly's room, Mickey flopped back on the bed, still a little hot and breathless. Cynthia sat down next to him, her smooth skin still glistening from the morning workout.

"I've got something I want you to see, Shelly," she said.

"Oh boy, another surprise!" thought Mickey, perking up.

Cynthia stood up and stepped over to the computer. She booted it up and logged in to the college intranet, then loaded a video program. Sitting back on the bed, she said...

"Watch this Shelly, you won't believe yourself."

Mickey sat up and looked at the screen. He saw a video image of a tennis court, the college court, Mickey quickly realized, with two women playing a fast, active game. He recognized Cynthia immediately, but was astonished by the appearance of her opponent. She was a slim, attractive, athletic young woman in a pale yellow costume, and a pony-tail that flailed wildly as she ran across the court, her pert breasts bouncing and her bare thighs gleaming in the morning light as her skirt rode up to reveal her smooth, shapely butt and tight crotch.

"You didn't tell me you were recording us," Mickey said to Cynthia, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

He knew all about the web-cams on court, of course, they were there to record training sessions and games for technical analysis, but he had never seen himself playing quite like this before. The more he watched, the more he began to realize that Shelly looked a better and more natural tennis player than Mickey ever had. In fact, Shelly looked like a real pro. And a babe, to boot.

Mickey felt the stirrings of an erection, as Cynthia eased backwards and stood up behind him on the other side of the bed. While Mickey sat transfixed by the image of Cynthia and Shelly hard at it, Cynthia quietly leant over and withdrew her light-blue panties, still damp from her exertions. She knelt on the bed behind Mickey and gently lifted her panties over in front of his face. Mickey gave a gasp as Cynthia opened the waist-band and pulled her panties back over his head. Mickey inhaled deeply, Cynthia's delicious scent racing through his senses. He felt himself being drawn backwards until he lay on his back, when Cynthia lifted her legs over his stomach and straddled his body with her naked loins. He moaned with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort as his erection tried to burst out of the body-shaper. Cynthia reached behind her and deftly unclipped the domes on the crotch-piece letting Mickey's cock expand with his growing excitement. She leaned forward, lifting her panties off Mickey's face, then kissed him deeply and passionately. Sitting up, she said...

"You had the fun last time, Shelly, now it's my turn."

She eased herself forward on Mickey's chest, resting her weight on her knees. She held Mickey's head firmly with her hands in his hair as she raised herself so that he was looking straight up at her pussy. Mickey gasped with anticipation as Cynthia gently lowered herself onto his face. Mickey's lips met Cynthia's in a moist embrace, his hands grasping Cynthia's naked ass, his tongue licking her wetness as she stroked his face with a gentle motion. Mickey had never experienced sex like this before, he felt imprisoned between Cynthia's strong thighs with his head tented under her skirt, the same thighs he had watched and dreamed about just minutes earlier.

His erection seemed almost fit to explode, as he drew his knees up then stretched them out again, as if walking on air. Cynthia moaned quietly as Mickey's tongue entered her softness, and she repeated...

"Good girl, Shelly, good girl..."

If Mickey had any doubts about his identity, he wasn't letting them get in the way of his pleasure... he tongued Cynthia's vagina even more deeply. Cynthia writhed in moaning pleasure, building to a apparent climax, then slid backwards, down to the foot of the bed. She took hold of Mickey's balls in one hand, and guided his rock-hard penis into her mouth with the other. Mickey's head rocked back onto the bed as Cynthia licked and sucked the head of his cock. A few seconds more, then he ejaculated wildly, Cynthia gobbling his semen as his body arched in ecstatic pleasure. He gradually subsided, breaths long and deep, as Cynthia raised herself up, saying again...

"Good girl, Shelly, good girl... who's a good girl?"

"Shelly is... Shelly is..." whispered Mickey, "I'm a good girl..."

Cynthia stood up and went into the bathroom as Mickey lay on the bed gasping slowly. Cynthia washed her mouth out in the handbasin, then looking in the mirror, tidying her hair, she laughed to herself...

"Damn, you're a slut! You're a filthy fucking bitch!!"

She pulled her panties on, went back into the bedroom, and sat down on the bed. The video was halfway through the second set. Mickey sat up, and straightened out his breast-forms, which had been knocked askew by Cynthia's writhings. Cynthia smiled, stroked his thigh with her warm hand and said...

"You really are a good girl, Shelly... you're doing very, very well. This is all going to work out just fine."

They sat and watched the rest of the video, Cynthia offering Mickey some pointers on particular aspects of his game. It seemed to Mickey that her advice was more useful and appropriate to his playing ability and physical attributes than Coach Greenwood's had ever been.

"Maybe she should have been my coach all along..." thought Mickey.

"Too bad she isn't a real girl," thought Cynthia, "there's lot's of potential here."

When Cynthia suggested they play a round of tennis every morning until the start of the semester, Mickey couldn't agree fast enough. Cynthia felt obliged to add...

"But it'll be strictly tennis... it won't do you any good to have too much of a good thing."

Mickey didn't really think so, but grudgingly accepted. Right then, he would have agreed to anything that Cynthia said.

A matter of a few days later, the new school year was about to begin. The college rapidly filled with returning students, and many new ones. Mickey and Cynthia continued their morning tennis, Mickey becoming ever more at ease with playing the part of Shelly, and more adventurous. He was no longer afraid to walk out in daylight, a large pair of sunglasses helping to disguise his features. Several times he walked past male students who knew him without being recognized, or even arousing suspicion. Coach Greenwood gave him a

"Hi, nice to see you,"

without faintly realizing who he was addressing. Mickey was almost tempted to engage him in conversation, but commonsense prevailed. His speaking voice was still a give-away, although he was making progress with the 'Develop a Female Voice' tapes that Cynthia had bought off the net. He saw his old friends at a distance once or twice, but prudently kept well clear. Then Jennifer and the other girls returned from vacation.

"Holy shit! Is that really you, Mickey?"

"No Jennifer, it's Shelly! Get it right!" answered Melissa, proud of their creation.

"You've got to avoid thinking about Mickey altogether. She's Shelly Webster, our new friend and room-mate now."

"Man, I'd never have believed it!" Jenny continued. "Shelly, you look fantastic!"

She gave him a warm hug. Mickey actually blushed. He certainly was looking good, wearing a mid-thigh length light-brown skirt, sleeveless white cotton top and sneakers. His make-up was very good, set off by a pair of small pearl ear-studs, his wig drawn back in a ponytail, as he now preferred. He felt pretty good, too.

"Thanks, Jenny, I'm really glad to see you back."

The other girls were equally impressed, none of them had really taken the idea all that seriously, but they thought it might be fun for a while. Now that they could see that Mickey seemed committed to passing as Shelly, they collectively agreed to help and protect her, virtually adopting her as a combination of house mascot and kid sister. A few ground rules still had to be settled, but given that Shelly's room was fairly self-contained, her own privacy was largely assured, and the girls agreed to practise a little more discretion than normal in respect to standards of dress or undress inside the house for the rest of that year. Cynthia felt a genuine sense of relief.

"Thank God, no hold-outs."

Mickey threw himself into the new semester's activities. He was, as Cynthia suggested, able to keep up with his studies on-line, although he did dare to attend a few lectures in person as long as he had a protector sitting on either side, and no-one he knew too well was any-where close by.

He especially got a real sense of satisfaction from his morning tennis slot with Jennifer. She was, as Cynthia had promised, a real talent. Mickey had his work cut out matching her agility and accuracy, although he was a little more powerful, especially serving. His game actually improved under Cynthia's tutelage, she was able to identify and improve aspects of his technique that Coach Greenwood had never mentioned, and probably didn't understand, Mickey thought, in any case.

"Apart from anything else," he considered, "I'm going to come out of this a better tennis player than ever."

After each session, Cynthia, Jenny and Shelly went over the video, both for discussion and analysis, and to check that it would be satisfactory for Jenny to upload for her daddy's benefit and satisfaction.

"So far, so good," Cynthia said to Jenny, after a few weeks.

Essentially, there was just no way that anybody watching the video footage would take Shelly for anything other than what she appeared to be... an attractive, athletic, dedicated young woman playing tennis. There was just one fly in the ointment, from Cynthia's point of view...

"Jesus Pam, he's a horny little bastard! There must be some way we can slow him down a bit!"

Cynthia was speaking to her best friend on campus, Pam Jensen, a senior nurse in the College Medical Center. Cynthia had confided in Pam from the beginning, as she did in everything. She now had something of a dilemma.

The last thing she needed to happen was for any sort of sexual interest to develop between Mickey and one (or more) of the girls, let alone Jennifer, God forbid! For that reason, and to ensure his continued co-operation, of course, Cynthia had attended to Mickey's erotic needs herself. The trouble was that with all her other commitments, she no longer had the time (or the energy) to keep it up. There was also a real risk of being caught in the act, now that the campus was teeming with students and staff. She really needed another way to keep Mickey's libido under control.

"Well, I don't know for sure what we can do, but I can soon find out," replied Pam, sipping her coffee. "We've a huge amount of material on various drugs and their effects, there's bound to be something effective in there. Just as long as there's no harmful side-effects, though."

"Oh for sure," Cynthia agreed, "I definitely don't want to hurt Mickey in any way at all... just tame him a bit."

They both laughed.

Pam was back again within a day or two. She had done a lot of research, and thought she might have a solution.

"It's an 'anti-androgen'."

"A what?" asked Cynthia.

"An anti-androgen. It's essentially a male hormone inhibitor. I think it'll do just what you want, and should be quite safe, just for a few months anyway. Once he stops, he should soon be back to normal. Nothing irreversible, so far as I can tell."

"Sounds too good to be true," replied Cynthia.

"There could be a few other benefits as well," continued Pam.

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, it apparently also reduces male body-hair and beard growth."

"He probably doesn't need that too much anyway," Cynthia stated. "The only problem is, how do we get him to take it? I can hardly go shooting him up every other day, and he won't like popping pills unless he knows what they are."

"From what I can see, the most effective application is transdermal," advised Pam.

"You mean a like a cream?" asked Cynthia.

"Exactly. Or a skin patch."

Cynthia leaned back in thought for a few moments, sipping her coffee...

"I think I know just what to do..." she said, finally.

Cynthia looked up the anti-androgen on the web, both for more clinical information, and to find a potential source. Pam had offered to acquire a supply of patches through the Medical Center, but Cynthia didn't want to involve her in anything that might jeopardize her position at the college. She'd already been more than helpful. Cynthia soon found a web-site that offered transdermal patches without the need for a prescription. She ordered a three-month's supply, using one of her credit cards. The cost wasn't too exorbitant, but in any case, she would be able to recoup the expense from Jenny's father. He had promised to cover ancillary expenses, as long as they remained within reason. And what could be more reasonable than protecting dear Jenny from a horny little nerd like Mickey?

Getting Mickey to apply the patches was almost laughably easy. Cynthia simply asked him one day how he was finding the body-shapers. He said they were fine, apart from a little irritation in the groin and butt area. He'd been using band-aids, but...Cynthia immediately interjected...

"Oh, I am stupid! I forgot to give you something for that! I'll be back in a second."

She was back in minutes with a packet of transdermal patches. She showed Mickey how to attach them to his rear-end, so that the soft part would protect him from the irritating effect he had complained about. She told him also that the patches contained a sort of gel that would lubricate his skin and relieve any problems. She left the rest of the packet with him, telling him to be sure to replace them at regular intervals, and to ask her for more when he ran out.

Mickey was delighted with Cynthia's concern for his comfort, he actually wondered if he could stick some of the patches in a few other places that he found a little uncomfortable. All he had to do was ask Cynthia for another packet, if he needed some more, after all.

Over the following weeks, Cynthia was pleasantly surprised by several developments: Firstly, Jenny's game was definitely on the improve. The competition really was helping, and Mr Linley had communicated his pleasure at her progress.

Secondly, Shelly really seemed to be settling down and playing her part like a pro. No-one outside of the loop indicated any notion of guessing who she really was. If Jenny's secret bodyguard had spotted anything, it definitely hadn't got back to her dad. In fact, Daddy had asked Jenny if her new friend would be coming to visit anytime soon.

Thirdly, Shelly didn't seem unduly perturbed by the reduction in their sexual activity. Cynthia wasn't sure if it was the patches taking effect or some sort of involvement with one of the other girls. She was assured however, that none of the girls was having sex with Shelly. They all took her far too seriously for that now.

"Maybe she's just getting off with herself," Cynthia pondered.

Either way, it was a relief.

The only surprise was when Shelly asked her for some more skin patches three weeks before she should have.

"Maybe she just lost some," Cynthia thought, "easy enough to do."

She gave Shelly another packet without a second thought, then got onto the net and ordered some more.

Mickey also felt a sense of relief. Over the preceding weeks, he found that he was feeling a lot more comfortable in his new role. He was very busy with studies, tennis and looking after his appearance as Shelly. He took an increasing amount of pride and pleasure in his ability to pass as a young babe, particularly as he was doing it mostly on his own now. It was also a blessing that he didn't seem to getting erections all the time. They might feel good, but they were damned uncomfortable with his cock tucked back between his legs. Now he could go for days at a time without any sensation of even having a penis. It didn't feel at all bad, in fact he found it much easier to relate to the other girls as Shelly without getting a hard-on all the time.

As well, he found that he was only having to shave about once a week, and his beard was remarkably soft. At this rate, he could soon quit the electrolysis that he had been doing with the kit he borrowed off Melissa.

He was just a little worried about what he was supposed to do if Cynthia came on to him again, but she seemed to be too busy for the moment. Well, the longer she left him alone in that respect, the better, he thought. In any case, she was right. It was all working out just fine. The semester was already more than half-over and he was enjoying it more and more. What could possibly go wrong now?

"That goddam bitch!! That scheming, manipulating, deceiving bitch!! I should have known she'd pull a stunt like this! It's unbelievable!"

The outburst came from Lydia Little, a psychiatrist in the College Medical Center with responsibility for students' psychological and emotional welfare. She had been searching through the student records for some reference to a male student she'd counseled the previous semester for mild depression.

He was a tennis scholar whose position at the college had been placed in doubt due to mediocre results, and he'd been unhappy at the prospect of losing his place. Since then, however, he seemed to have fallen right off the radar screen. It seemed that he'd finished the last semester then disappeared. There was no record of him re-enrolling for the new year, or transferring to another school. He was just nowhere to be seen.

Then, when Lydia tried a global search of the college intranet by entering 'Michael James Webster', the search engine returned a blank, but helpfully suggested... "Did you mean 'Michelle Jane Webster?'"

Lydia sat up with a start. She clicked on the link, then watched in surprise as the computer loaded Shelly's student file. There was nothing suspicious or unusual about what she read, it appeared to be the record of a normal, attractive young female student enrolled as a private member of the tennis squad, who had transferred from another college at the start of semester. Lydia looked at Shelly's id photo closely. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, but she looked vaguely familiar, which didn't really accord with the status of a new student whom Lydia hadn't seen before. A germ of disquiet began to grow in the back of her mind.

She loaded Mickey's old student file from the previous year, and studied his id photo carefully. Looking from one image to the other, Lydia's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"She's damn convincing... but," she thought, most of the essential features, the eyes, the shape of the nose, and the jaw-line were almost identical. Without doubt, she realized, she was looking at two very different versions of the same person!

"Wow!! That explains a lot!" she exclaimed, and that was when she exploded.

Lydia and Cynthia had once been close friends, but had fallen out when Lydia surprised Cynthia in bed with Lydia's boyfriend. The fact that the guy was a jerk who had long since disappeared did nothing to diminish Lydia's rage. And now, the bitch had done it again! Lydia was livid.

The situation that Lydia had just uncovered may have seemed bizarre, but in psychological terms was wholly explicable to her. Quite obviously, Michael/Michelle had a genuine and deep-seated transgender condition, which served to explain his episode of depression the previous year. He was now living full-time as a female, in the company of a houseful of female students, and was possibly even contemplating a full transition. And of course, he could only be pursuing his new role in the tennis squad, staying with six or seven other girls, with the total collusion and connivance of the coach of the female tennis squad, Cynthia Marston.

Lydia had no doubt why Cynthia had kept it all so secret. It was purely to deny Lydia the chance to undertake the most fantastic active clinical research project that had come her way in years. To guide and record a young student's transition from male to female was not an everyday activity at a conservative school like her one.

"God, what a bitch!" she said to herself.

Apart from anything else, Cynthia was recklessly risking Mickey's psychological and emotional welfare. He definitely needed professional help and guidance, and who better to provide that than Lydia Little? Christ, maybe she could even write a book about it!

Lydia logged out and went for a walk. This situation needed careful consideration. She could expose Cynthia to the college authorities and get her kicked out, of course, but that would be cutting off her nose to spite her face. Michael would get kicked out as well, and probably some, if not all, of the girls in the tennis squad. The effect on Michael, in particular, would be devastating. No, it would be far better to keep a low profile, and quietly take control of Michelle's progress herself. That way, she would be getting even with that bitch Cynthia, helping to guide a vulnerable young person through a very difficult process, and enhancing her own career prospects at the same time. Yes, when she thought about it, with careful handling it would all work out just fine.

She walked back to her office in a much more positive state of mind.

"First things first," she thought, "better call 'Shelly' in for a talk.

"Oh, shit!!" muttered Mickey quietly. He had been cleaning up Shelly's email, not that there ever was much, since he was naturally keeping his head well down. To his surprise, there was a message from the Medical Center which read...

"Hi Shelly, I would very much like to see you asap. We have a lot to discuss. I am sure I can help. How about tomorrow 2:30? regards, Lydia."

Of course, he knew who Lydia was. But did she know who he really was?

He was tempted to ignore her request, in the hope that she would soon lose interest. After all, she was probably just checking out a new student. But what was the bit about helping? Helping who to do what? Mickey was a little perplexed. With some reluctance, he decided to say nothing to any of the others, then go to see Lydia as requested. He could carry Shelly off pretty well now, and it would be a good test anyway. Probably nothing to worry about at all.

"Come on in, Shelly, nice to see you again," greeted Lydia.

"Oh, no," Mickey muttered, his heart sinking.

"Don't worry, this is totally confidential, naturally," Lydia confided.

Mickey's heart rose just a little. As he walked into Lydia's office she closed the door behind them, motioned Shelly to sit down on a couch, and sat down next to her.

"Man, she's good," thought Lydia, very impressed. "She's the real deal."

Shelly certainly looked the part. She was wearing a knee-length pleated skirt, with a silky printed top and dark cardigan, and a pair of open-toed shoes. She no longer wore a wig, as Mickey's hair had grown enough to look attractively feminine, dyed dark brown with light-brown streaks. Her make-up was flawless, as always. And she could cross her legs quite comfortably.

Lydia was late-thirties, fortyish, not athletic like Cynthia, but slim, elegant, and always immaculately turned out. She looked at Shelly closely, noticing that she had no trace of a beard, but quite clearly didn't shave, either. She recalled that Mickeys's id photo, however, showed clear traces of shadow on the upper lip and the chin.

"Electrolysis?" she pondered, "Hormones? Maybe a bit of both."

"Shelly, I really wish you had confided in me when I last saw you," she continued, "I'm here to help, after all. I must say, though, that you seem to be making terrific progress."

"Well, thanks, Lydia, I really appreciate it," Shelly responded, desperately trying to think of some way to handle this unwelcome development.

Lydia took note of Shelly's voice, quite definitively feminine, even if a little deeper than normal, of course.

"My word, she's much further along than I would have thought," she decided.

"Well, Shelly, this is just a get-to-know-you, for now. Nothing serious at all," she continued, "but when we meet again, I want to get a little more organized, ok? And do remember, everything we say in here is strictly confidential."

"Sure, Lydia, that'll be fine," Shelly answered.

She was getting used to doing what she was told by determined, mature women.

The rest of the session was spent with Shelly describing her place in the squad and how the girls all accepted and helped her, and answering a number of seemingly innocuous questions from Lydia. In all of this, Shelly said absolutely nothing about the arrangement with Jenny's dad, and never mentioned Cynthia's involvement. Not that Lydia was fooled for a second. Naturally, however, she didn't mention Cynthia's name either.

They agreed to meet again at the same time a week later. Lydia needed time to write up her notes, and do some background research. Mickey needed time to think of a way to handle this latest complication. Neither of them wanted anyone else to know about their meeting, least of all Cynthia.

Mickey walked back to the girls' house in something of a quandary. He knew he could rely on Lydia's professional discretion as long as played along, but how was he supposed to handle her interest in his situation? If he told her the truth about what he, Cynthia and the girls were actually up to, she might well feel obliged to blow their cover to the authorities. The end of semester was barely a month or so away now, so on reflection Mickey decided that it might be best to simply let Lydia believe whatever she wanted to.

In fact, he considered, the more he convinced her that he was really genuine the less likely she would be to cause trouble or spill the beans. She seemed fairly well convinced so far, so it shouldn't be too hard to keep her fooled.

Mickey felt pretty pleased with himself when he looked back on it. If he could convince a professional psychiatrist like Lydia, he thought, then he could convince anybody at all.

"Damn, I might even convince myself," he laughed.

Lydia sat down in front of her computer and created a new folder which she named 'Jane W'. All of her case notes and research material would be located inside this directory. It would, of course, be very securely protected, as all her confidential material was. She had no doubt at all that the contents of this folder would grow rapidly during the next few months. As a starting point, she inserted a copy of each of Mickey's and Shelly's personal files.

"I wonder which one of these will grow faster?" she mused.

Mickey rushed back to Shelly's room, booted the computer, logged into the net, went straight to Google and entered a single search word: 'transgender'. If he was going to keep Lydia on side, he needed a lot of background information. He also had to create a personal history, as Lydia had insisted that she needed to know how Shelly's identity had developed: how long, for example, Mickey had suffered from his gender identity conflict, when had he first become aware of it, etc, etc.

Mickey was justifiably proud of his net research prowess, and certainly believed that if you couldn't find something on Google then you'd never find it anywhere. All he had to do was look up a few personal web-sites, a few blogs, and one or two informational sites to find out all he needed to know. He just hoped there was enough info on the net to fill out what he needed.

"Holy shit!! They're everywhere!!"

Mickey gaped in astonishment... Google had returned 1,790,000 responses to his search request.

"Jesus Christ, where do I start?"

Mickey spent the following two hours visiting sites, following links, saving files, and book-marking pages as he tried to make sense of the bewildering plethora of gender information he had stumbled into. There were personal histories, psychological sites, chat rooms, web-logs, advisory services, on-line tests to tell him if he was transgendered or not, even one site with a on-line application form for gender reassignment surgery. There were strange terms like M2F and F2M, SRS, TG, TS, pre-op, post-op and no-op. He felt as if he was being submerged in a flood of tg information overload, but nevertheless managed to distil enough relevant data to create a more than useful identity for Shelly.

In fact, he was more than a little surprised to discover just how relevant a lot of the information actually was. One personal site describing a post-operative transsexual's early years as a boy included a description of how he could never pitch or catch a baseball, pass or receive a football, shoot hoops or kick a soccer ball more than a few yards.

"Jesus, neither could I, that's why I took up tennis, for chrissake!" Mickey muttered.

The only reason Mickey never secretly tried out wearing his sister's clothes, as described on another tg's web-page, was simply because he never had a sister. He'd often wondered, as a kid, what it would be like to dress as a girl, and honestly thought that all the other guys felt like that too. It was just part of the fascination of femininity, he'd always thought. And yet, here were people treating it as some sort of point of difference between them and the rest of the male world.

As well, he'd never been remotely attracted to other males in any erotic sense, and had always assumed that transgenderism was really some extreme form of homosexuality. Yet, here was one tg after another turning out to have been wholly heterosexual as a male, some even being married with kids. It was all too confusing. He decided to pick out only those details of other people's experience that seemed to be at least remotely relevant to his own life, but nothing too extreme.

As it transpired, it wasn't very difficult. Shelly turned out to be an uncertain young biological male with some sort of unresolved gender identity conflict. He was living experimentally as a female full-time, but without taking any irreversible measures, either hormonally or surgically. As a boy and adolescent, he had often fantasized both sexually and mentally about being female, yet felt compelled to assert some degree of masculinity in order to fit in with the conservative society that he inhabited. Ironically, the tennis career he had first used as an escape mechanism from his conflicts now served as the perfect vehicle to explore his real identity. In this, he had been assisted enormously by the understanding and compassion displayed by the coach and members of the female college tennis squad.

Naturally, his existence as a female was a secret known only to his immediate circle, and it was essential for all concerned that it remain so.

"Well, that should keep her busy for a while," Mickey decided.

He logged off the net, then opened up an assignment he was working on. It was due the next day, so he had a lot of work to do. Then he would be up early, as always, for his morning session with Jenny.

For the rest of that week Mickey was extremely busy. He had his normal routine as Shelly to keep up, a heavy academic work load to maintain, and a new identity to create and rehearse before his next meeting with Lydia. He contrived to keep that part of his life separate from his dealings with the girls, and especially the coach.

Regarding Cynthia, Mickey's feelings were a little confused. He was still enormously attracted to her, both physically and personally, and always enjoyed her company, but was thankful that she seemed to have lost interest in an active sexual relationship. He simply didn't know how he would cope with any advances from her, given that he could hardly manage a hard-on at all now, and hadn't even bothered masturbating for weeks. The erotic stimulation he had derived from Jenny's cast-off underwear had diminished almost completely, and anyway they were all Shelly's own clothes now, after all.

"Come on in, Shelly, good to see you again," welcomed Lydia.

Shelly walked into Lydia's office and sat down on the couch. Lydia closed the door.

"Relax, Shelly, don't forget I'm your friend as well as your counselor," she continued reassuringly.

She'd noticed that Shelly seemed a little tense. Shelly certainly felt a little nervous, she had carefully constructed a life history for herself, and it had seemed convincing enough when she'd gone over it in the privacy of her room, but this was different. Now she had to convince a trained professional psychiatrist that she was genuine.

"Thanks, Lydia, I'll be fine. This is just a new experience for me, you know," she confided, already feeling better.

From there on, it got easier. Shelly grew in confidence as she developed her story for Lydia's benefit. Lydia sat back, letting Shelly continue, interrupting occasionally with a pertinent question, or asking for a clarification of one point or another. This was new territory for her as well, after all. She was taping the interview anyway, and could go over it carefully later on.

By the time an hour had gone, Shelly was completely comfortable in her assumed role, she had expanded on her life-story at Lydia's gentle prompting, and felt, quite justifiably, that she'd carried it off pretty well.

She had.

Lydia was convinced.

Which brought her to her next point.

"Shelly, I don't think you've been totally candid with me," she stated firmly.

"I don't understand. How do you mean?" asked Shelly.

"Well, you did say that you hadn't been taking any medication for your condition. Yet, I can clearly see from your previous photos that your beard growth has diminished remarkably from last year," Lydia challenged.

"Oh yeah, I've been doing electrolysis for that," Shelly admitted.

"But no hormones?" Lydia asked.

"No, not at all," Shelly answered truthfully.

"Well, honestly, Shelly, I've seen and heard enough now to believe that it's probably time for you to seriously consider starting some sort of medication regime. The longer you put it off, the harder it'll become," Lydia advised.

"Oh, yeah, ok..." Shelly answered, unsure how to respond.

"If you like, I'll check out the literature, find out what's most appropriate to your situation and see if I can get something for you by next week. Then we can take it from there," Lydia suggested finally.

"Thanks, Lydia. I'd really appreciate that," Shelly responded.

"Of course, we'll have to involve your own Doctor if we go down that path. You'll need careful monitoring," Lydia advised.

"I don't have a Doctor here, actually, I've never needed to see one," Shelly replied.

"Well, don't worry, I'll arrange something with one my colleagues here, I know she'll be very discreet. See you next week, Shelly."

With that they parted warmly, Lydia to diligently continue her research, Shelly to figure out how to cope with yet another complication on top of the ever-growing complexity of her life.

There were several weeks more to the end of the semester, then exams and a break before the start of the next, and last, semester of Mickey's tenure at college. He figured, after all he'd been through so far, that he could cope with damn near anything for just a few months more.

"Hormones, shmormones, Doctor shmoctor" he said to himself, all he had to do to keep Lydia happy would be to take a very mild dose of whatever she came up with, just enough to show some minor degree of feminization, just sufficient to see him through to the end of the year.

He had learned in the course of his research the previous week that it was quite common for aspiring transsexuals to take moderate doses in order to determine how they could cope with a full transition, yet without doing any permanent, irreversible damage.

"Christ, what's six months anyway?" he laughed.

He looked at his watch, then muttered "Shit! I've gotta get ready!"

Shelly was going shopping with Jenny, Vicki and Carole, then they were having a meal together. She wanted to look good, naturally. She enjoyed her evenings out with the girls, they were fun. They'd been to several movies and restaurants, even to a few bars, although Shelly had never been prepared to get up and dance, even just with the girls. Still, she might be tempted if the place and people were just right, she thought. Especially if Jenny looked a real knockout like she had last week.

Shelly still found Jenny extremely attractive, notwithstanding the reduction in Mickey's libido over the past weeks. Her fantasies about Jenny tended to involve kissing, hugging and oral sex, explicitly Shelly being the giver and Jenny the receiver. In fact Shelly could think of nothing better than lying between Jenny's delicious thighs, lovingly tongueing her luscious cunt.

Of course, none of her fantasies ever went beyond the purely fantastic. Jenny really showed no interest in sex with anyone, male or female, and was dedicated to her routine, particularly in view of the progress she had been making with Shelly's help. In return, Jenny was endlessly helpful to Shelly, in respect to clothes, make-up, feminine behavior, and not least by being the perfect role model. In effect, Jenny's relationship with Shelly was much the same as between herself and the other girls. She had simply adopted Shelly as one of her closest and most trusted girlfriends, and Shelly certainly didn't feel like complaining.

"Hi Shelly, I'd like you to meet Dr Marion Baker. She's one of our resident physicians, and she's agreed to help."

It was Shelly's next meeting with Lydia.

"Oh, thanks Lydia," Shelly replied. "Hello, Dr Baker, nice to meet you.

"Marion, please, Shelly. The pleasure's all mine, believe me. I'm delighted to be able to help."

As she'd promised, Lydia had diligently pursued and obtained some relevant information about suitable medication to help treat Shelly's gender identity disorder. And that's where Marion came in. She now told Shelly how she would be able to prescribe a course of hormone treatment that would serve to feminize her features, those she described as 'secondary sexual characteristics'. Essentially, she said, her skin would soften, her weight distribution would alter to a more female shape, she would probably develop small breasts, her libido would diminish, she wouldn't need to shave very often, and she'd probably experience some emotional effects as well.

"How long would all of this actually take?" Shelly asked cautiously.

"Well, given that you'll be starting from scratch, and that we'll begin with a fairly moderate dosage, you could expect to see some effects within several months, but really, it could be a year or more before there are any dramatic developments."

"Really? A year or more?" Shelly asked.

"Don't be disappointed, Shelly," Lydia admonished, "we all have to walk before we can run. It's very important to monitor side-effects, apart from anything else."

"And of course, there's always the possibility that you might even decide not to proceed with a transition," added Marion.

"You shouldn't go past the point of no return unless you really are certain about what you want."

"No, no, of course not..." Shelly agreed.

Marion went on to explain that the medication of choice was something called 'Estradiol' which could be administered in a number of ways, by injection, pills, implant or transdermally. An implant was ruled out as being too permanent, at least initially, and Shelly was a little reluctant to have even more skin patches stuck on her body. Therefore, it came down to a choice between the needle or the pills, and Shelly opted for the pills. That way, she would be in control.

"But how will I pick them up?" Shelly asked. "I don't want to have to go to a pharmacy and ask for a packet of female hormones, you know."

"No problem, Shelly," Marion reassured her. "You can come and see me once a month or so, and I'll give you a supply then, as well as giving you a check-up. That way, we can monitor your progress and modify the dosage if need be. Of course, if you notice any unpleasant effects, you should contact me immediately."

With that agreed, Marion left to get a prescription filled. She came back to Lydia's office and gave Shelly a packet, and a written list of instructions.

"This'll get us started, Shelly, when I see you next month we might even see some changes." she said. "See you then, Shelly."

Shelly thanked Lydia and Marion and took her pills home. As she walked back she pondered how to handle her medication. At first, she thought it might be best to take half the stated dose, just enough to show some effects and no more. But then, she thought, that might not show anything at all, which could look a little suspicious. Marion had said that it would be a fairly light dosage to begin with, in any case. Better then to take the full dose for a month or two, to demonstrate some degree of development at least, then she could wind it back for the rest of the year. No harm in that.

She went into her room, into the bathroom, opened the packet of pills, took out a couple and knocked them back with a glass of water.

"Nothing to it!" she laughed. "Feel like a new woman already!"

Shelly finally felt as though she was completely in control of her life at last. She was fully at ease in her female role, and was wholly accepted as such by her room mates. She had developed a close and meaningful relationship with her coach, Cynthia, and her tennis game was progressing markedly. She enjoyed a deep and rewarding liaison with her counselor Lydia, and was able to satisfy her physician Marion that she was genuinely and safely committed to her hormone treatment and feminization program. And, of course, all of the above was perfectly true.

The end of the semester came around soon after. Any inhibitions Shelly may have felt earlier about conducting herself in public on-campus had long since evaporated, and she sat through the final exams without turning a perfectly placed hair.

After the exams, all of the other girls left for a short vacation, but Shelly preferred to remain on campus, primarily because she really had nowhere to go. Her mother had already left for Europe, and Shelly simply didn't see any need to revert to being Mickey, even for a few weeks. That could wait, she decided.

The short break on her own was very fruitful for Shelly. She continued with the pills every day, naturally, and the skin patches, although she was running low again, and spent a lot of time on the net.

She had initially set out to do some more research in order to further develop her personal history for Lydia's benefit, but found herself drawn further into the whole new world that she had discovered. She was particularly interested in those sites that gave advice on make-up, dressing and passing. She was already pretty good at all three, but could see no reason why she shouldn't be even better. She had also become a lot bolder about going off-campus in public, and spent many hours browsing and shopping in the malls in town. So far as she could tell, she wasn't picked by anyone at all, but then she never expected to be.

By the time the girls returned from the break to begin the last semester Shelly was confident, but also uncomfortable. She'd noticed that her body-shapers were becoming a little tight in the butt, and irritating in the breast area. She realized that it was probably a consequence of the hormone pills, although she was surprised that it had occurred quite so quickly. Regardless, she considered that everything was going according to plan, and decided that maybe it was time to do away with the corset-things, and rely on her naturally developing shape instead. She could always bolster her budding breasts with a bit of tissue paper anyway.

"Four months to go, all systems AOK," she hummed to herself as she stood in front of the mirror brushing her shoulder-length hair.

She positively threw herself into her program for the last semester. Her exam results the previous semester had been well up to scratch, even a slight improvement in some subjects. She felt a wonderful sense of liberation now that she'd abandoned the body-shaping corsets, and was quietly gratified that no-one seemed to have noticed. Her tennis sessions with Jenny were progressing well, although she noticed that Jenny seemed to be gaining a slight edge over her strength-wise. Cynthia had picked it up as well, and naturally put it down to Jenny's own physical and technical development.

She'd also noticed that Shelly hadn't asked for any more transdermal patches for a while, and yet wasn't displaying any signs of an increasing sex-drive.

"She's looking so pretty now," she thought. "It'll be such a shame when Mickey has to come back."

In fact, Jenny and Shelly were playing so well together that Cynthia decided that it might be a good idea if they played as a doubles team in an upcoming inter-college tournament. Jenny was enthusiastic, Shelly was unsure, but all the girls were very encouraging, so Shelly decided to go along with it.

"Don't worry about anything, Shelly," Cynthia reassured her. "Nobody, but nobody is going to guess who you really are. There won't be any sex tests or urine samples or anything like that. It's just a friendly, strictly amateur occasion."

The tournament was scheduled to take place at another college three hours' drive away. The normal procedure was for both teams, male and female, to share a bus, but Shelly resolutely refused to play ball. No way was she going to risk being stuck next to George or Eric, or one Mickey's other old friends. She'd already had her work cut out avoiding them all year.

Accordingly, she, Jenny and Melissa drove in Melissa's car. Jenny preferred to avoid the guys' attentions herself, in any case. They were more than halfway there when she dropped a bomb-shell.

"By the way, did I tell you that Mommy and Daddy will be there?"

"No you fucking didn't!!" Shelly shouted angrily. "That's it! I'm not going!"

"Calm down, Shelly," Jenny replied. "You have to meet them sooner or later. Daddy insists. Anyway, it's the least you can do, since they're paying all your fees this year."

"Yeah, Shelly," Melissa agreed, "don't hold out on us now. They're nice folks, you know. We all owe them a lot."

"Don't worry, Shelly, they won't pick you. No-one will," Jenny continued. "It'll be alright."

It was alright, at least to start with. Jenny and Shelly won their match in straight sets, 6-4, 6-3. Shelly felt a blush of pride when she was introduced to the crowd as 'Michelle Webster'. Oddly, none of the guys registered the coincidence between her name and Mickey's.

"Out of sight, out of mind, obviously," she decided.

Meeting Jenny's parents was no problem at all, they were friendly and natural, and clearly accepted Shelly just as she was. She thanked them for all their help, as did Carole and Melissa, and Mr Linley replied graciously that in view of Jenny's progress, he thought that any obligations had been amply repaid. The problem arose when Jenny's Mom invited all the girls to visit one weekend in a few weeks time.

Mr Linley added... "You really have to come, Shelly, Billy is dying to meet you. He can't take his eyes off you on the videos Jenny sends."

"So who the fuck is Billy?" asked Shelly on their way home.

"He's my cousin," Jenny answered, "he's about a year younger than me. I'm not surprised he's got the hots for you y'know, Shelly. You're a real babe these days."

She and Melissa laughed.

"Very fucking funny!" Shelly replied angrily. "You never said anything about your horny little cousin before."

"Well I didn't know he was gonna start perving at you, Shelly," Jenny continued. "But I don't mind, at least he's outta my hair now."

They laughed again.

"You know, Shelly," she added, "Billy's parents are even richer than mine... if you played it right you could be set for life!"

After that she and Melissa were beside themselves. Melissa had to pullover to the side of the highway and stop the car.

"Fuck you, I'm not going!" was Shelly's final rejoinder.

And she didn't go, but mainly because Jenny did not want to risk exposing Shelly's real identity in front of her parents. Shelly might be able to fool them at a tennis game, she considered, but imagine if randy cousin Billy got carried away on Saturday night? It just didn't bear thinking about. In any case, in the event Billy hit it off with Angela and soon forgot all about dear sweet Shelly.

For her own part, Shelly spent a lot of the weekend searching the web. She had become increasingly fascinated with the on-line world of transgenderism. There was just so much to learn, she realized. She was particularly concerned to research the effect of the hormone treatment she was still taking, whether to start reducing her intake, what the likely result would be if she did so, or what would happen if she kept it up.

From what she could discern, her current dosage shouldn't have produced especially noticeable results in such a short time, but she was reluctant to cut it back in case the development that she had experienced so far dissipated too quickly. There were still a few months to go to the end of the year, after all. Right then, Shelly just wasn't ready to be re-masculinized. She decided to continue with the pills for a while yet. She clicked back to the web-site of a plastic surgeon who specialized in facial feminization of transsexual patients.

"God, if only I could have those cheekbones..." she thought wistfully.

Shelly wasn't the only person on campus researching female hormones on the web that weekend. Cynthia was pursuing a similar line of inquiry. She was especially concerned to learn what effect something called 'Ethynil Estradiol' would have on the body of a young male if taken regularly for several months. She had been astounded by some information given to her by her friend Pam a few days earlier.

"I swear it's true, Cynthia," said Pam. "According to what I've found out, she's been seeing Lydia every week for a few months, now. I can't access her records of course, but I can guess what it's all about. Look at this."

She gave Cynthia a sheet of paper.

"What is it?" Cynthia asked.

"It's a photocopy I took of a prescription slip. Marion Baker asked me to get it filled yesterday. I know the writing's a bit indecipherable, but you can read the name, 'Michelle Webster'."

"What's it for?" Cynthia asked, a little confused. "A cold or something? There's a bad one going around."

"No, it's for 'Ethinyl Estradiol plus Cyproterone'. It's a combination of a synthetic estrogen and an anti-androgen. It's usually prescribed for hormone-replacement therapy in post-menopausal women."

"So why does Shelly need this stuff?" Cynthia asked.

"Well, Cynthia, a twenty-one year-old guy doesn't take HRT drugs, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless he's turning himself into a twenty-one year-old girl," replied Pam flatly.

"Oh my God," said Cynthia, "Oh my God. Are you sure, Pam?"

"Positive. Look, I'll see what else I can find out, but it's already pretty obvious to me what's happening. Shelly is being counseled by Lydia and monitored by Marion for a complete sex-change. There is no other possible explanation."

Cynthia was dumbfounded and disturbed. She hadn't expected anything like that at all. She had been certain that everything was under control. There were only a few more months to go, after all. She thought about confronting Shelly directly, but then decided to make sure of the facts first. What she discovered on the web seemed to confirm Pam's diagnosis. The hormone mix that Shelly was taking was a powerful combination, with only one possible long-term outcome: Shelly's total feminization.

Cynthia also discovered that the anti-androgen patches she had been giving to Shelly would probably have accelerated the effect of the hormone treatment she was now undergoing, without her actually realizing.

Cynthia wondered how much the other girls knew about all of this, but realized that if Shelly had kept her fooled, then the girls would probably have known even less. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that only one person could have been responsible, for both the treatment and the secrecy...

"That goddam bitch Lydia!"

Somehow, Cynthia was sure, Lydia had got into Shelly's head and convinced her that she was a transsexual.

"That woman's a damned witch!" she exclaimed. "How could she do something like that?"

Cynthia decided that a confrontation with Lydia was absolutely essential, before the Shelly's situation got right out of control.

"You can't do that, Cynthia," said Pam.

Cynthia had rung her to find out if Lydia was in her office.

"If you front Lydia about this now, you'll be admitting everything you and the girls have done. Then she'll inform the College for sure. And that'll be the end of your career here."

"I'm not so sure, but I suppose you could be right," Cynthia conceded. "So what do we do then?"

"Well, we can keep an eye on Shelly from both sides. I'll find out whatever I can from here, and you can keep a close eye on her from your end. Then maybe you can have a talk with Shelly yourself. Find out what she really wants."

"Should I involve the girls, do you think?" Cynthia asked.

"Not yet, we don't know how they'll react." Pam replied.

"Ok, thanks Pam," said Cynthia. "We'll give it a few more weeks. Who knows, she might have changed her mind by then anyway."

Shelly didn't change her mind at all. With the semester halfway through, she was still on the full dose of hormone pills. Her breasts had grown quite noticeably, her butt had filled out, her body hair had all but disappeared and her muscular structure had softened and rounded. In fact, the extent of her feminization was becoming so obvious that the girls couldn't help but notice.

"Nice shot, Shelly," shouted Cynthia after Shelly had beaten Jenny with a powerful passing shot right down the line during one of their practice sessions.

"Nice boobs, too," laughed Carole to Helen as they watched from the stand with a couple of the others.

Shelly was showing pronounced bust development with a clearly defined cleavage as she stretched out and ran across the court.

"Yeah, there are definitely no falsies in there," Helen replied.

"And there's no falsies in that ass, either," Carole added with another laugh. "Do you get the impression that the only balls out on that court are the yellow ones they're playing tennis with?"

"Well, I don't know what she's been up to, but she's gotta be on something," replied Melissa.

"Maybe she's gone on the pill," said Christine. "That would explain one thing, anyway."

"What's that?" Melissa asked in mock surprise.

"Why she isn't pregnant yet!"

With that they all collapsed into helpless laughter.

"I didn't really think it was supposed to turn out like this, you know," Jennifer said later. "I thought Mickey was meant to come back at the end of the year."

"Yeah, this is really turning out to be some sort of spelling mistake," said Vicki.

"Ok, ok, leave this to me, I'll look into it," said Cynthia.

"Damn, I'll have to speak to Lydia now," she thought.

She confronted Lydia in her office the next morning.

"You cannot be serious!! I don't believe it! Are you actually trying to tell me that you set this all up yourself?"

"Well, he was just supposed to dress up as a girl for a few months, that's all," Cynthia replied. "I really think you're taking this a bit too far now, Lydia. If you hadn't interfered it would all have worked out just fine! Now you've got her pumped up with more estrogen than the Dallas Cowgirls!"

Lydia was astounded and incredulous. Cynthia had just explained, without a hint of embarrassment or contrition, the clever scheme that she had planned and executed to keep her tennis team together that year. And now she was blaming Lydia for Shelly's confused situation. She had virtually accused her of brainwashing Shelly into undergoing a sex-change.

"On the contrary, Cynthia, all my work with Shelly so far confirms my initial diagnosis. She is quite clearly subject to a genuine case of transsexualism. All you really did was lift the lid off. I could get you thrown out of the school for this, you know."

"But you won't, of course," Cynthia replied smugly. "If you blow the whistle on Shelly, you'll be breaching your professional confidentiality with a patient. So if I go, so does Shelly. And where will your precious research project be then? She only has to play along for another couple of months, in any case."

"Then I'll make you a deal, Cynthia," Lydia responded. "You leave Shelly to me for the rest of the semester, and I'll keep my mouth shut about the rest of it. Ok?"

Cynthia felt reluctantly that she had little choice other than to agree. Still, it would only be for two more months, in any case, and then Shelly would be out of Lydia's clutches. What harm could Lydia really do in a couple of months anyway?

Lydia had a lot of thinking to do, given Cynthia's revelations. She had no reason at all to question Shelly's genuineness, she felt. Shelly had been completely upfront and honest in all her meetings with her, therefore she had little faith in Cynthia's concocted story about the tennis squad.

"As if that old has-been could seriously coach a grand-slam winner," she laughed.

It was obvious, Lydia decided, that Cynthia was clearly attempting to separate Shelly from her in order to control Shelly's situation herself, exactly as she had initially suspected. And that was the last thing she wanted or Shelly needed.

She went over Shelly's file again, carefully checking the chronological progression of Shelly's condition from an early age, and taking particular note of the length of time that Shelly had admitted living full-time as a female. Based on what she had learned from the literature and from speaking to fellow professionals working in the field, she knew the usual period for the real-life-test was two years. But surely when a patient was as committed as Shelly and had lived in a wholly female environment for as long and successfully as she had, then perhaps the criteria might just be a little more flexible.

Lydia decided to make further enquiries. She only had two more months, after all, before Shelly quite possibly would disappear altogether.

During the weeks that followed, Shelly kept up her sessions with Lydia, continued her hormone treatment from Marion at the full dosage, and maintained her program as a student and member of the tennis team.

Cynthia and the girls agreed among themselves to leave Shelly the personal space she needed to finish the semester with as little drama as possible, while keeping a close watch on her physical and emotional situation. Once school was finished for the year, and the final exams were over and done with, then they could address Shelly's issues more directly.

"Man, she'll probably be the captain of the cheerleading squad by then," joked Helen.

"Yeah, just as long as her boobs don't get too big," laughed Melissa. "You know how bitchy those girls can be."

Of all the girls, however, Jenny felt more disturbed than the others at what seemed to be happening to Shelly. Shelly had really entered into their arrangement for Jenny's benefit as well as her own, after all. Jenny's dad would never have forked out just for Shelly to stay at school. And now Shelly's life seemed to be turning completely upside-down and inside-out, and God knew where it might end.

"You have to level with me, Shelly," Jenny said.

They were alone in Shelly's room just a couple of weeks before the end of the semester.

"What d'ya mean, Jenny?" Shelly asked in surprise. "Level about what?"

"I mean we know all about Lydia, and the hormone pills and all that stuff."

"Who knows?"

"Cynthia, all us girls. We've known for a couple of months now. It's been getting a bit obvious, anyway. You didn't grow those hooters by accident, Shelly."

Shelly lay back on her bed.

"Yeah, well, I never wanted to hide myself y'know. What you see is what you get. This is me, Jenny."

"Cynthia thinks Lydia has got you brainwashed."

Shelly sat up and laughed.

"More like the other way around!"

"So what have you been telling her then?" Jenny asked.

"Well, I made up some stuff at first. But since then I've just said whatever I really feel. Lydia isn't making me do anything I don't wanna do, Jenny."

Jenny sat on the bed and gave Shelly a warm hug.

"I just want you to be happy, Shel. I'm very, very fond of you, y'know. I want us to be friends forever."

"Yeah, me too, Jen," Shelly responded.

Actually, Shelly wished they could be a lot more than just friends, but that would have to wait for now.

The end of the year soon came and went, the final exams were all over, and the girls were planning a big party to celebrate. Naturally, all the guys from the tennis team, and many others, were invited. Shelly had no reservations about being a part of all the fun since it had become obvious that none of Mickey's old friends even remembered him ever being there, and certainly none of them had ever managed to pick her.

For the party Shelly wore a strapless knee-length black dress, narrow at the waist with black fish-net stockings and three-inch heels. With her make-up, a little jewellery and her blonde-streaked brown hair cascading over her shoulders, she looked a picture of young womanhood. She drank a few glasses of white wine, having no desire to lose control of herself, and generally kept clear of any of the guys who had known Mickey at all well.

Throughout the evening, she noticed many of the guys casting glances in her direction, coupled with unheard comments and laughter. Several of the girls, engaged in conversation with them, seemed to be sharing in the fun. Shelly began to feel a little apprehensive, afraid that her real identity might have been exposed at last.

Eventually Carole, a little the worse for cheap champagne, came over and placed her elbow on Shelly's shoulder.

"You wanna know what the guys are saying about you Shel?" she asked softly in Shelly's ear.

"What?" Shelly asked, slightly alarmed.

"They're taking bets about who's gonna get into your panties before the party's over!" Carole laughed. She took a swig from her glass then continued... "I think it'll be George... he's get the hots real bad for you, girl! You ever seen the size of his pecker?" she asked.

"No, never!" Shelly lied.

Actually Mickey had seen George buck-naked in the locker room many times, and knew how well-hung he was. Shelly felt weak at the knees at the mere thought of it. She dodged a few dancing couples and stepped out onto the porch.

"Oh God, what do I do now?" she asked herself.

"Hi Shelly," a male voice came from the shadows.

Shelly looked around to see a young guy from one of her classes. He was somewhat taller than her, lean, with dark hair. She strained to recall his name.

"Phil, remember," he said.

"Oh, yeah, hi Phil," Shelly replied.

"You look fantastic, Shelly," Phil complimented.

"Thanks, Phil," Shelly genuinely blushed, although it didn't show in the dark.

"You wanna go for a walk?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, sure," Phil agreed.

They walked together down a tree-lined path that wound through the campus, connecting several park areas. It was well-lit, and of course the campus itself was quite secure. Even at that late hour, there were many people, including other couples, using the same path. Shelly felt naturally comfortable walking and talking with Phil. A warm gentle breeze ruffled her hair and the skirt of her dress as she carefully placed one high-heeled foot in front of the other, her arms folded in front of her breasts. She reflected on previous occasions when she had walked along the same path, not so many months before, as Mickey.

"My God, it's barely a year ago," she laughed to herself.

"You love tennis, don't you Shelly?" Phil interrupted Shelly's thoughts.

"Well, yeah, that's mainly why I'm here, I guess," Shelly ventured. "But it's not the only reason, though."

"Really? Like what else?" Phil prompted.

"My studies, of course, that's the most important part anyway. And all my friends, too."

"You mean all the other girls?" Phil asked. "I mean, everyone knows you haven't dated anyone since you've been here," he added.

"Everyone?" Shelly asked in surprise.

"Well, every guy, I should say, Shelly. It's a bit of a talking point, actually."

Shelly had thought that she'd managed to be successfully anonymous all year, and was more than a little surprised to be described as a 'talking point'. She didn't really mind though, as it happened.

"Well my program has been pretty full-on, you know," she said. "It didn't leave much time for anything else."

They eventually arrived back in front of the house where the party was still in full swing.

"So where to now, Shelly?" Phil asked.

"I wish I knew," Shelly thought silently.

"I'm taking a bit of time out to work through some options, Phil," she replied after a few seconds. "Let's go inside."

They rejoined the party, attracting a few looks and whispered remarks. Phil got a glass of wine for Shelly and a beer for himself. They talked some more and danced a few times, as the night slowly wound down. When it was time for Phil to leave, he and Shelly walked outside. Phil gave Shelly a slip of paper, telling her it contained his phone number and email address.

"Keep in touch, Shelly, I'd love to know how you get on," he said.

Shelly was momentarily lost for words, then managed to say...

"I'd really like that, Phil, you're a dude."

Phil placed his hands on Shelly's hips, drew her toward him and kissed her full on the lips. Shelly gasped in surprise, but felt unable to pull away. She found herself kissing Phil passionately in return, her arms resting lightly on his shoulders.

When they came apart, Phil said "Don't forget, Shelly, keep in touch."

Then he walked away down the path. Shelly walked back inside, feeling confused and a little shocked at what she had just done. She avoided the people still partying, went into her room, kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed. Under the effect of the wine she'd drunk earlier, she soon drifted off to sleep.

"Well, it's all signed and sealed, Marion. How far Shelly takes it now is purely up to her."

"Absolutely, Lydia. Of course, we'd never push her into anything, but I'm sure she'll want us to continue counseling and monitoring her progress. I have to say that her physical development so far has been astonishing."

"And her mental development as well, Marion," added Lydia. "You'd never guess she'd ever been a guy."

Lydia and Marion were seated in Lydia's office discussing the documents they had just drafted and signed. They were authorizations officially declaring that Michelle Webster, aka Michael Webster was a diagnosed transsexual who, in their professional opinion, was a suitable candidate for gender reassignment surgery, having fulfilled the requirements of what was termed the 'Real-Life Test', in as much as she had lived in a purely female role and environment for a sufficient period to be deemed capable of making a full and successful transition from male to female.

"When are you going to speak to her?" Marion asked.

"I hear they had quite a party last night, so I'll send her an email to drop by tomorrow. I'll let you know, Marion. We can go over it all together."

Shelly didn't have much of a hangover that morning, unlike the other girls, so she was up fairly early and went for a long walk. She was still confused about her feelings from the previous evening, and had a lot of thinking to do about her immediate future. Everything had seemed so straightforward during the year, but now she simply didn't know quite what to do.

When she returned to her room, she logged into the intranet and checked her email. She read Lydia's message and thought..."I wonder what's so urgent? Just have to wait till tomorrow, I suppose."

She logged out and went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Several of the girls were seated at the table, in varying degrees of misery.

"So what's happening with Phil, Shelly?" Vicki asked. "You were gone quite a while last night."

"We just went for a walk, nothing else," Shelly replied.

She still wasn't sure, however, if there really was nothing else.

She left the girls to suffer and went back to her room.

"Come on in, Shelly, sit down and make yourself comfortable. We've got some very important matters to discuss."

It was the next morning, and Shelly had gone to meet Lydia as requested.

"Thanks Lydia," Shelly replied.

She sat down next to Marion. Lydia sat on a chair on the opposite side of a low coffee table.

"You've come a very long way since we first started, Shelly. And since you'll probably be leaving the school soon, we need to discuss your future, especially as regards your continuing transition."

"Sure, Lydia," Shelly replied. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about it."

"Well, to simplify matters Shelly, it's like this... Marion and I are satisfied that you're actually ready to go all the way now," Lydia said.

"All the way?" asked Shelly.

"Yes Shelly," said Marion. "We mean the final transition... the operation."

"Oh yeah… ok… the operation," Shelly replied, only slightly surprised.

Lydia showed the surgery referral letters to Shelly, and explained their meaning and purpose. She also gave Shelly a list of hospitals and surgeons that specialized in gender-reassignment surgery. Marion gave Shelly a fairly detailed demonstration of the surgical procedure, using photos and diagrams to provide visual information. Little of it was actually new to Shelly, she'd been through it all quite thoroughly in the course of her web researches. She sat and took it all in, nodding politely from time to time. When Lydia finished, she asked Shelly if she had any questions.

"Do you have any idea of the likely cost, Lydia?" she asked.

"That will be your major difficulty, Shelly," Lydia replied. "You'll be looking at approximately twenty-thousand dollars or so, I'm afraid, depending on how much you want to get done. If you leave out things like breast implants and facial surgery, you might save a little. I wish the college could help, but my research budget doesn't run to srs operations. But I feel sure that someone as committed as you won't have too much trouble finding the money."

"Fat chance of that," Shelly thought.

She stood up to leave.

"You must stay in touch with us, whichever way you decide to go Shelly," Lydia said. "You'll only have to pay for the hormone prescriptions, nothing else. I'll continue to counsel you on a research basis, no charge, naturally."

Shelly thanked them both, and left with all the documentation they'd given her, as well as the next month's supply of hormone pills. She went back to her room and placed the folder of papers in the bottom drawer of her desk.

Jenny poked her head around the corner of the doorway and asked..."Feel like a game, Shel?"

"Yeah, why not. I'll just get changed. Be with you soon, Jenny."

As they were returning to the house after their workout, Jenny said..."Can you come to see Cynthia with me tomorrow, Shelly? I think we have a lot of loose ends to tidy up, you know."

"Sure, Jenny, what time?" Shelly asked.

"I'll come and get you, ok?" Jenny replied.

Shelly lay down on the bed in her room and thought..."Loose ends? You said it girl! How the hell do I tidy this up now?"

She was now at a total loss as to where to go and what to do. She knew she would have to vacate her place at college within the next week, but hadn't planned anything after that. She couldn't go home without reverting to being Mickey which would be rather difficult now. She couldn't even remember where his clothes were stashed. And in any case, her mother was now just an email address somewhere in France.

She went into the bathroom to have a shower. Standing in front of the mirror afterwards, combing out her wet hair, she looked at her naked body, so different now from Mickey's. She cupped her firm, round breasts in her hands. They felt big enough to forget all about implants, she thought.

"I wonder how much they'd save me?" she laughed.

Her waist was narrower than her hips, and while her pelvis certainly wasn't as wide as the other girls', her general shape was decidedly more female than male. There was no trace of masculine body hair anywhere on her torso or limbs, and not a lot of muscle definition either.

The only real anomaly she could now see was Mickey's tiny, limp penis barely protruding from her small mound of pubic hair. She couldn't see Mickey's balls at all, let alone feel them.

"Man, how can it cost twenty thousand dollars to get rid of that?" she muttered. "Even if I stopped the pills tomorrow, it'll probably never grow back anyway."

She got dressed, finished her hair and make-up, then went out for a walk and some serious thinking. She knew that somehow she would eventually have to go back to being Mickey, but couldn't quite figure out how, or when.

It was just all too difficult to even contemplate. Better wait until tomorrow, she thought, and see what Cynthia had to say. Knowing her track-record, she was bound to have something worked out.

"Hi Shelly, Jenny, come in, sit down."

They both sat down on the couch in Cynthia's office, right where it had first started all those months before.

"First things first, Shelly," Cynthia said. "Do you have any plans for the immediate future?"

"No, not really Cynthia. It's all come around too fast. How about you?"

"Well as it happens, I'll be leaving the college before next year. Actually, Jenny is going to start a professional career, and I'm going to coach her. We both owe you a lot, Shelly."

"Thanks, Cynthia," Shelly replied.

"And there's room for you too, Shel," Jenny added.

"What do you mean?" asked Shelly.

"We mean we want you to come along as our assistant coach and training partner, Shelly," said Cynthia. "It's totally your choice, but you've done so well this far that it'd be a shame to split up now. We can still fix up the administrative details so that Mickey can graduate like I said, that's no problem at all, but we both have the feeling that you might just like to carry on as Shelly for a while. What do you say?"

"Gee, I don't know," Shelly answered, "This is a real surprise, you know."

"It'll be well paid, Shelly, lots of travel, hotels and everything," Jenny said.

"When will all this start?" Shelly asked.

"In about four months from now," Cynthia responded, "so you'll have plenty of time to sort yourself out first. By the way, there's something else I want to show you, Shelly."

Shelly raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" she asked.

"Not that!" Cynthia laughed. "Actually it's this."

She picked up an envelope from her desk and held it out for Shelly to take.

"Do you remember when I told you that Mr Linley promised us an appreciation for helping Jenny? Well this is his thanks to you, Shelly."

Shelly took the envelope.

"Open it, Shel," Jenny prompted.

Shelly opened the envelope and took out a letter of thanks from Jenny's dad, and a check made out to Michelle Jane Webster for the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars. She sat back on the couch, stunned. As her head slowly stopped spinning, she thought of the folder of papers lying in the bottom drawer of her desk.

"What's the matter, Shelly?" Jenny asked a little worriedly.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Shelly replied, still looking at the check in her hands.

"Cynthia, you know when you said it'd be no problem to fix it so that Mickey can graduate?" she asked. "Well, can you arrange it so that Michelle graduates instead?"

"Yes, of course," Cynthia answered. "Is that what you want?"

"Definitely," said Shelly. "In that case, girls, we've got a deal."

Jenny gave Shelly a warm hug, saying..."I knew you'd come through, Shelly, this is all gonna work out brilliantly. You won't regret it, ever!"

At the end of the week, they agreed to meet again in three months. Shelly promised she'd be fit and ready to go then, but had some personal business to attend to first. She packed her bags, said her goodbyes to the other girls, called a cab, and left the campus.

Phil closed the door behind him, and followed Shelly into her apartment. He had been very surprised when she had called him a few days earlier. It was nearly a year since they'd parted company back at the college. They'd been out together for the last three nights now, and Phil was struck by how much Shelly had developed and matured as a woman in just twelve months.

"Man, she's a babe," he said to himself again.

"Thanks, Phil, it's been a lovely evening," said Shelly. "By the way, I've got something to show you."

"Oh, really?" asked Phil.

"In the other room. Follow me, Phil."

Phil followed Shelly into the bedroom. She turned to face him.

"It's a surprise, Phil, you have to cover your eyes."

 

THE END.

  

  

  

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