Sultrifier 1.3 is a work of fiction. Any similarity to anyone, living or dead, is a coincidence. The names are fictitious. Every effort was made to use fictitious call signs as well. If the FCC has assigned some of them since this was written, their act was out of my control. This is a copyrighted work of Caitlin Rose. It may be archived at any site that does not charge a fee, as long as the author’s permission is obtained. If you are not of legal age, or if strong language, sex, or crossdressing offends you, go read something else.
Sultrifier 1.3 by: Caitlin Rose
"WB4YNK, this is WB1RUI. You are putting a fine signal into southern Vermont. How is the weather down there in Louisiana today? We are having a beautiful early winter here. We have some snow on the ground and everything just looks so very pretty. Back to you. WB4YNK from WB1RUI"
I imagined the delicate, sweet voice of a teenage girl coming out of the loudspeaker in Clint’s den. His middle-aged mind would conjure up a picture of a young pretty girl, maybe 16 or so, cute as a button, with a clever mind and a friendly smile. Most guys seemed to be suckers for "the voice with a smile."
"WB1RUI, WB4YNK. You are 10 over 9 in Baton Rouge. Well, it’s kind of cool, cloudy and damp weather here. I’ve got the heater on in the shack. By the way, my name is Clint. Don’t know if you gave your name in the last transmission, there was someone on for a bit, only about 2 KC away. What do you do up there in Vermont? I work for the phone company. They call me a switchman, but it’s more like being a computer operator these days. WB1RUI to get it, this is WB4YNK."
"WB4YNK, WB1RUI. Thanks for the signal report, Clint. My name is Drew; it’s a family name from my mother’s side. Sometimes I wish Mother had called me Jane or something. I go to High School. I’m in the middle of my senior year. I like computers and that’s probably what I’ll be studying in college next year, but I have to finish High School first. I took every computer course my school has. Everyone tells me that this senior year is supposed to be fun, but I think I’d rather be in college already.
Being that you work for the phone company, I have a question for you. I hear the phone companies are using voice synthesizers for directory information. Do you get to work on any of that? Back to you, Clint. WB4YNK, from WB1RUI."
Clint was chuckling as he picked up the conversation. It was a warm, friendly, fatherly sound
"WB1RUI, WB4YNK. Drew, you must have some southern blood. We do that with kids names a lot down here. I’ll bet your senior year will turn out to be a lot more fun than you think. You’ll have six guys trying to ask you to the prom, all before Easter break. No, I don’t get to work on the "robot operator" stuff. I hear it is getting harder to tell it from the real thing, though. I’m going to have to sign with you now. I just got the dinner call. WB1RUI, WB4YNK. Clear with you and listening for your final. 73 and have a great day.
"WB4YNK, WB1RUI. Hearty appetite, Clint. I hope we meet on the band again some time. I’ll be sending you a QSL and if you’d be so kind as to respond, I’d appreciate it. So long for now, 88. WB1RUI off and clear."
"WB1RUI, OK on the QSL. My address is good on QRZ.com."
"WB4YNK Off, Clear and QRT for dinner."
The program was working better with each revision of the code. I had been tinkering with it, and with the specially modified soundcard, for the last three weeks. This last week, with school out for the Christmas break, had been very productive. I could talk into the microphone and the computer did the rest. Well, almost. I still had to carefully pick my words and timing. The more I practiced, the better I got. The results were getting very good. The sound of my own modified voice on the last simulated ham contact, or QSO I had put on tape, had almost gotten me hot. The real life QSO I just completed with Clint was the proof of the pudding.
I came up from the basement, picked up the phone, and dialed.
"Steve? It’s Drew. What are you doing? Drop it. Homework can wait. Remember the gadget I was telling you about? Well it works. I’m going to win this bet. Come on over. I want you to see it."
"Ok Drew, I’ll be over in about half an hour."
Actually, there was more to this than winning a twenty five dollar bet. I had been an amateur radio operator, a ham, for three years. Now with the year 2001 rapidly approaching, I had set a goal for myself. I was going to be the first operator in the Salem Amateur Radio Club to contact hams in all 50 US states in the new millennium. Yes, that’s right. The new millenium starts with the year 2001, just like the first millenium started with the year "one." I had made a bet with my friend, Steve, that I could do it, but mostly it was an important personal goal.
It wouldn’t be easy to accomplish. I had a low power transmitter. I had a simple wire antenna, no fancy towers on a high school kid’s budget. And I had that almost stereotypical male techno-nerd teenager voice. Today, hams are predominately middle aged and older men. They don’t want to dig through the static and interference to talk to "pesky kids." But they always, that is absolutely always, work a little harder to establish contact, when the voice on the other end belongs to a young lady, a YL.
I had heard the effect in action several times. I’d be tuning around a dead band; not a soul around. I’d called CQ, the general call to any ham. No response. Then some YL with a southern drawl would show up on the band. She would call CQ, and there would be an instant pile up of stations calling her. It was as if a station from Tibet had showed up. Every old man out there wanted to talk to the girl.
I spent the next half-hour getting the demonstration ready to show my friend. When Steve arrived, I was ready. I seated Steve at the rig and gave him a set of heavily padded headphones.
"Steve, these are connected to my computer and to my transceiver. The left side is the output of the computer, that is my voice after processing, as it goes out over the air. The right side is the guy at the far end. You pick the band."
"OK Drew, let’s try 40 meters, but just to keep it honest, I’ll tune the rig."
"Fine with me. Pick any open frequency in the phone band."
Steve tuned around and found a free spot between the jumble of voices, whistles, and growls on that short wave band.
"Go to it, champ"
"Ok….CQ CQ CQ,40 this is WB1RUI calling and standing by."
Steve’s jaw dropped as far as it could go. He was looking at me, watching my lips move, but hearing the lilting voice of a young woman. Within two seconds, the right side of Steve’s headphones came alive.
"WB1RUI this is K9FMQ. How do you copy"
"K9FMQ, you are putting a nice strong signal into Salem Vermont. My name is Drew. What’s yours? K9FMQ, WB1RUI"
"My name is Howard, and you sound great out here in Kansas."
I kept up the conversation for about 5 minutes and signed off with 88, the ham abbreviation for "love and kisses." It’s often used by female operators to end a contact regardless who they were talking to, and never used between guys.
"That was unbelievable, Drew. I heard it but I don’t believe it"
"Ok, here goes."
I switched off the radio transceiver and took the microphone and spoke directly into it, holding it very close to my mouth. Steve heard me through the headphones.
"Oh you boys are just such chauvinist pigs. You just don’t believe a girl can accomplish anything."
The voice, the tone, even the words were pure girl. Steve was speechless.
"Don’t you have anything to say? Have you forgotten your manners? You’re not afraid of a pretty, sweet girl are you?"
"Ok, I believe you did it, but how?"
I put down the microphone and motioned to Steve to take off the headphones.
"Well, I started by taking the phoneme recognition part of a speech-to-text program, then I mapped each recognized phoneme to a new, girl-pitch equivalent phoneme. That was easy, just a look-up table.
The hard part was to get the girl phonemes to sound right. The designer of the original code was happy with a kind of mechanical woman sound, but that just wouldn’t do. I had to go into the source code and do some low level tweaking.
It’s still up to me to pick the right words, phrases, and timing. That takes concentration. I sometimes feel like I’m trying to learn to think like a girl."
"I don’t know about the thinking part, chum, but you sound good enough to get me hot. One thing though, when I was watching your lips, and listening at the same time, the voice was a little out of sync with you. It was behind."
"Of course. It takes the computer about a quarter of a second to process the speech. It doesn’t make any difference on the radio. The far end operator just has to wait an extra quarter of a second when he turns the conversation over to me."
My folks went out on New Years eve. Even my year-older sister, Cheryl, had a party to attend. I stayed home alone. The new millennium began at midnight, and with it the race to be the first Worked All States in 2001
Steve dropped in at about 11:00.
"See your spending New Years Eve at the rig. Ah the dedication of the true nerd."
"I don’t see you in a tux, with a blonde on one arm and a redhead on the other, either OM"
"Mom left us a small bottle of Champagne to toast the New Year. Hell, we’re well under age, but the millennium only comes once in a thousand years, and she figures we’re safe, because neither of us has access to a car tonight."
The big moment came. We shook hands, drank 2 or 3 toasts and turned on the rig. We hung around the basement for about two hours that night, while I churned up a storm, first on 40 meters, and then on 80 meters. My voice was tired, but I had knocked off 14 states, mostly in the Midwest and South. States with sparse populations had fewer hams, of course. That made places like New Mexico and Idaho tough catches.
I finally gave up about 2:15 AM, and went up stairs and right to sleep. Steve walked the few blocks home through the dead calm, icy cold of the New England winter night.
No one in the family woke before noon the next day. We had a light brunch and Mom settled down with a novel. Cheryl went to her room and got on the phone. Dad headed for the TV in the living room, and I went down to the basement and warmed up the rig.
I hadn’t been there for fifteen minutes, when Steve dropped in.
"Back at it, I see. How goes it?"
"I just got started. Wanna’ watch?"
"Sure do, buddy. After all, I’ve got a big $25 riding on this. I want to make sure you really make the contacts."
Steve sat and watched as one ham after another called and spoke with me. They sounded like a pack of love starved middle aged men.
I enjoyed fooling them into thinking I was a girl. I’ll bet they had visions of a younger version of Drew Barrymore. In reality....well never mind. I often wondered what it felt like to be a girl, to have guys make a fuss over you, just because it was what their hormones made them do. Pretty girls sure got a rise out of me. Not that it had ever done me any good. I was 17 and still a virgin. Sure, I lied like a lot of guys do, but the fact was that between my shyness, my size, and my general nerdness, may experience had never gone beyond some innocent necking. That was with Megan O’Toole, and she was literally the girl who lived next door.
I picked up another 10 states. New England and the eastern seaboard were easy on 80 meters, and 15 yielded Nevada, California, Oregon and Washington. I was almost halfway there, by state count at least. I knew Alaska and Hawaii would be more difficult, as would some of the rarer of the "lower 48"
I tuned further up the band and tried again. This spot on the band seemed very quiet.
"CQ CQ CQ 15 This is WB1RUI calling from eastern Vermont."
I had to repeat the call twice more before a pleasant female voice answered.
"WBIRUI, this is K7JYL. How do you copy?"
She sounded about 18 years old. There was a perky, cheerful smile in her voice.
"K7JYL You are a bit weak, but very readable here in Vermont. Happy New Year to you. I guess it is just us girls in here this afternoon. The guys must all be busy watching football."
She said her name was Jill. We chatted for about 5 minutes. This was a switch. I was really fooling an expert now. This girl thought I was a girl. I wondered if I could keep her believing I was a girl, long enough to finish the contact. After all, she was the real thing. I imagined her as being quite pretty. She certainly sounded charming. I found myself hoping that I sounded pretty and charming to her as well. Somehow, it wasn’t just a matter of sounding like a girl anymore. I was actually excited by the fact that she might think of me, as I thought of her. She said she thought Drew was a pretty name, and that she wished she had a less "ordinary" name. I looked up her call sign in the database and found out she was in Idaho. I was getting ready to sign off with her.
"Thanks, Jill I needed the Idaho contact for a new Year 2001 Worked All States."
"Sorry to disappoint you. We moved about 5 weeks ago. I plan to keep the call though. It was the closest to Jill I could get."
She looked up my address, and it turned out we lived only 8 miles apart! Her weak signal was due to her temporary antenna, not to almost 3000 miles of distance.
"WB1RUI, Sorry, I know how rare Idaho contacts are. I didn’t mean to deceive you. Let me buy you a cup of coffee to make amends."
Steve’s face turned into a huge grin as he listened.
Drew forgot for a second that he was using the Sultrifier, as he called the voice changer program.
"Sure Jill, I’d love to get together for coffee."
He accepted the invitation in an instant, and regretted it an instant later. Jill was offering to meet for a cup of coffee, and Drew was thinking with his gonads!
"Damn it, Steve, I’m in deep shit now. Jill is expecting to meet a girl. What am I going to do?"
"I don’t know about you Drew, but I know what I’m going to do. I’ll pay you off double, if you make WAS, and meet Jill for coffee."
I couldn’t reveal the deception. I’d be exposed as a kinky fraud to my local ham friends within weeks, that was sure. Steve was bound by the terms of the bet to keep my methods secret, if they weren’t actually illegal, and they weren’t. Jill wasn’t bound in any way.
I swallowed hard and continued.
"Where would you like to meet?"
"There is this neat looking little roadside place about a mile up route 7 from here. It’s called the "Coffee Room"
Her voice sounded like liquid love.
I knew the place. It was a "literary" kind of place. None of my friends went there, it seemed it was more popular with artsy college kids.
I was trying to figure a way out, as Jill continued with her transmission.
"Unfortunately, I can’t meet you tonight, I have to leave for the airport. I’m flying back to Idaho tonight to help Mom close the house and pack up a few final items. Then we both fly back here in 2 weeks to rejoin Dad. Back to you WB1RUI, K7JYL.’
"K7JYL, WB1RUI OK I guess I’ll have to wait until then for that coffee."
Damn gonads talking again. I should have said that I’d be off to college in Minnesota in a week, or maybe in the Foreign Legion. But I didn’t say that. I said that I would meet Jill for coffee when she got back East. And, I said it in a sweet, sexy, girl’s voice.
I signed off with Jill and turned to Steve. As soon as I released the microphone button, Steve began to laugh. I never heard him laugh so hard before. When he caught his breath he said
"If you show up, she’ll know you’re a guy and blow your cover. If you don’t show up, she may come looking for you. She has your address you know, and it’s only 8 miles. That’s what you get for getting hot over a pretty voice."
"Let’s go up to the kitchen and get a couple of cokes. I don’t even feel like looking at the rig right now."
We kept talking as we climbed the stairs.
"Don’t make me feel more miserable than I am. If only I could look like the Sultrifier makes me sound."
"Yeah, right, scrawny Drew becomes a hot babe."
"Well, I’m just saying that if I could look like a girl.."
Cheryl walked through the kitchen and stopped for a second, gave me a look, and continued up the stairs to her room.
Steve hung around for another half hour, until mom shooed us out of the kitchen so she could prepare dinner. He was still kind of chuckling to himself as he left.
At dinner, Dad and Mom had an announcement. It seemed dad’s company was sending him to London for 3 weeks and that he was leaving at the beginning of next week. He was taking Mom with him.
"Do you think you two can get to school each day and keep from burning down the house or getting arrested for three weeks?"
"Daddy, I’m a very mature young lady. I understand responsibility."
"Yeah Dad, I’m not a kid anymore either. We can take care of ourselves. Have fun."
After dinner, Cheryl and I went to the den to watch TV. We talked a little about our parent’s trip. Then Cheryl asked me about what she had overheard.
"Little brother, is there something you should tell me? Like are you gay or something?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said something to your friend Steve about wanting to look like a girl."
"Oh that, it was not what you think."
"What do you think, I think?"
"You know, that I may be gay."
"I was kidding about that, but I’m dying to know why my brother is considering drag."
My sister and I were pretty close. We really didn’t have any secrets from each other; we just weren’t usually interested in the same things. I told her the whole story. About the bet, the Sultrifier, Jill, the coffee shop meeting, everything. She laughed a bit.
"So my brother finally gets a date with a great sounding girl, but he has to show up in drag, to preserve his reputation with his radio buddies."
She just sat there chuckling to herself for a while.
"Do you really want to do it?"
"Do what"
"Show up dressed as a girl, for coffee with Jill."
"That’s ridiculous. It wouldn’t work anyway.’
"Since when are you the expert?"
"And I suppose you are?"
"I’ll bet you could be a convincing girl, if you try."
I should have seen the red light, right there, but male ego being what it is...
"You’re on. I’ll try my best, but if Jill sees through it, you owe me fifty bucks."
"OK, but you really have to try, and that means doing everything I say to prepare. Are you still game?"
"Like I have a choice."
"When do you meet Jill?"
"In about two weeks"
"That should suffice. I can shop for you this week, and you can practice next week, after Mom and Dad leave for London. Can you put, say, $35 into the project? That much will go a long way at the thrift store."
The day after New Years Day was back to school. Cheryl was already home from her classes at Community College when I got off the school bus. She took my $35 and disappeared with her friend Lois. I saw them come back in, with two stuffed shopping bags and head for her room. Nothing more was said about the whole business until our folks were on the plane to London, and we were back home. It was Saturday afternoon.
"Ok brother Drew, welcome to Miss Cheryl’s Beauty and Charm School. Classes start immediately."
Cheryl handed me a small shopping bag and told me to strip naked and put on what was inside. I went into my room. After I got undressed, I looked in the bag. There was only one item. It was a bright pink, flowered, girl’s one-piece bathing suit. It looked much too small.
I fought with it until I got it on. It was really very stretchy, and I was able to wear it without too much discomfort. It did pull my member up tight against my crotch, leaving only a small bulge.
The smooth stretchy fabric felt good against my skin. The whole suit was made of some kind of elastic material and it felt like I was being squeezed all over at the same time. It was very tight, but somehow it felt good.
"Ready for inspection?"
"I don’t know"
"Come on, let me see."
Cheryl came into my room.
"Not half bad. I thought that suit was about your size."
She had two wads of balled up stockings in her hands. She stuffed them into the bra-cups of the bathing suit.
"That’s better. You don’t have to be Dolly Parton, but no boobs at all just won’t do. Here, use this. Get rid of every hair that shows, except on your head, eyebrows and eyelashes."
She handed me her pink electric shaver.
"Don’t forget your pits. I’ll be back in 10 minutes"
I shaved very carefully. I didn’t have much body hair to begin with, and it took less than 10 minutes.
I was standing in front of my mirror, feeling my newly smooth skin, when she returned. My skin felt great without hair. There was never much hair on my legs to begin with, but without any, they looked and felt like girl’s legs. I was getting hot touching them. My penis was straining at the fabric of the bathing suit, enlarging the bulge at the crotch.
"Oh you are a sexy thing. You need to learn some modesty. I thought this might happen. I’ll leave while you change into this stuff."
She dropped another package on the bed and left again. I looked in the bag and found a pair of panty hose, a very small jock strap looking thing, a pair of very frilly panties, a bra, a long sleeved gray dress with a black belt, and black shoes, with a medium heel. Anyway, it looked like a medium heel.
Other than the bra, the dress and the shoes, I had no ides what order this stuff went on in.
"Cheryl, do I have to wear all this?"
"Yes you do, I think it will be much easier to learn to appear like a girl, if you feel like a girl."
"OK, What’s first?"
She told me the "dancer’s belt," that tiny jock strap, went on first. It really flattened my cock and balls. It wasn’t all that comfortable. As I was trying to fit my scrotum into it, I accidentally pushed one of my balls up into my body. There was a shot of pain as it passed through the opening, but it made the "dancers belt" more comfortable. I did the same thing on the other side. Now the belt fit well, and made my crotch very flat. I put on the panty hose, with the panties under them. Going to the bathroom would be quite a production.
I had thought my bare shaved legs looked sexy. With panty hose, I thought they were dynamite. I slid one smooth leg against the other. I ran my hand down the taut nylon. Instantly, my penis began to strain against its confinement. I added the bra, and used the stockings that had been stuffing the bathing suit cups, to fill it. I slipped the dress over my head and struggled with the back zipper. I got it almost all the way up. Finally I put on the shoes. They were tight, but I got my feet into them.
"Come into my room when you’re dressed"
I started down the hall. I knew these heels were low, compared to what I’d seen girls wear, but I felt like I was about to break an ankle. I saw myself in the mirror as I left my room. I saw a boy in a dress. I looked weird.
I could see Cheryl holding back a grin as I entered her room.
"These shoes are tough to walk in"
"Oh poor guy, walking 20 feet in inch and a half heels. How would you like to spend an evening dancing in 4 inch pumps?"
"No thank you. Anyway, you lose the bet. I look like a boy in a dress. I wouldn’t fool Mr. Magoo."
"Do you think that’s all there is to it? My charm and beauty school hasn’t really begun yet. So far, you have just gotten your uniform. Sit here and be quiet"
I sat at her vanity table, my back to the mirror, as she indicated. Cheryl took a step back and studied my face.
"You are really prettier than you think. You just need a little help here and there."
Cheryl applied about ten different kinds of makeup to my face. She explained each step. She told me I was going to learn how to do this myself to prove I was really trying, before she would even think of honoring the bet.
I learned the purpose and effect of foundation, concealer, blush, powder, lip liner, lipstick, eye liner, eye shadow, mascara, and eyebrow pencil. The lesson on this last item was preceded by a plucking session that left me feeling like featherless bird. Cheryl assured me that no one would notice; that she only pulled out a few "stray hairs" Finally, Cheryl took the rubber band off my ponytail and rolled my hair onto hot rollers. She told me these would have to stay in my hair for a half-hour, to really work well. They felt tight and heavy. Somehow, it was a very pleasant feeling.
We spent that half-hour doing my nails with clear polish.
"Cheryl, I have to go to school Monday. What if someone notices my nails."
"You can get it off you know. But you will have to dress completely, for practice, as soon as you get home each afternoon."
When Cheryl finished working on my nails she made me face away from the mirror while she removed the rollers from my hair. I felt her working with a brush and felt her put my hair back into a ponytail, but somehow it felt different. She then used some hairspray on my hair.
"Don’t move"
She left the room and came right back. She made me close my eyes and sit very still.
I felt the pinprick and knew exactly what had happened.
"Hey I didn’t agree to ear piercing."
"Only old ladies wear clip-ons. Be happy I’m only giving you one hole in each ear...for now."
She asked me to stand up while keeping eyes still closed. She led me a few steps. I felt Cheryl fix the zipper on my dress.
"Open your eyes, Drew"
I was standing in front of her full-length mirror. The person looking back at me looked like my twin sister, but I don’t have a twin sister. It was me, but I looked like a very pretty girl. I would definitely want to go out with me! The sight and smell of myself was getting me hot! The taste of lipstick, the smell of makeup and hairspray all screamed girl! My red lips, arched eyebrows, softly teased hair held with a gray bow that matched my dress, all looked like the kind of girl I would like to ask for a date, but would be too timid!
"Wouldn’t fool Mr. Magoo huh?"
"I can hardly believe it"
"Believe it. I got you started. Now you need practice, lots of it."
Sunday was pretty intense. Cheryl got me up early and told me to take a hot shower and shampoo and condition my hair. She gave me her shampoo and conditioner to use. I think she picked the smelliest ones she had around. I used her soap too. When I got out of that shower, I smelled like a lilac.
"Drew, the more you feel like a girl, the better your chances of pulling this off. From now until you wake up tomorrow morning, you are a girl."
I stood there in my bathrobe while Cheryl handed me fresh underwear, a black, pleated skirt and blouse that she said was "mauve."
I would have described it as "dark pink." I put everything on. I was a little more confident this time. I was able to get myself "tucked in" more quickly. Soon I was fully dressed. The feel of the hose and the smooth fabric of the skirt against my legs, was as exciting now, as it was yesterday. Actually, this skirt was a bit longer and more flowing than the dress had been. The soft fabric swished around my legs in a way I found very pleasant.
I checked myself out in the mirror. I saw myself standing there in a skirt and blouse, with my wet hair hanging loose on my shoulders and a pinkish, fresh scrubbed, look to my cheeks.
Maybe it was the plucked eyebrows, or maybe it was from "inside," but I saw myself as a girl. I looked like a very plain, unadorned girl. The weirdest part was, that what I wanted to do most just then, was to make myself prettier!
"Drew, come in here and sit down at the vanity."
She handed me a comb, a bottle of something called "setting lotion" and a bag of hair rollers and told me to roll up my hair. I had remembered seeing women with their hair rolled up before. I picked up one of the blue plastic cylinders and wondered aloud if it would make a good coil form for an antenna trap or a loading coil.
"That is a magnetic roller. Now don’t tell me that plastic isn’t magnetic, or speculate about using it in some radio project. Just put about an ounce of that lotion into your hair, comb it through and start rolling."
"Yes ma’am"
I had built a lot of electronic circuits over the last few years. I could easily deal with tiny components and a hot soldering iron. I thought my manual dexterity was pretty good. But dealing with wet, slippery hair and a smooth plastic roller was quite a challenge. I struggled with each roller until I had eight of them in my hair. Cheryl helped me and rolled up the rest of them. When we were done, I had about two dozen rollers in my hair.
"Your hair is all one length, so it would probably work best in a bob or an updo, but I set it for a flip just to see how it comes out. Would you like to try a flip?"
I remembered to answer like a girl.
"Oh that would be fun. I’ve never worn a flip before."
Cheryl sat me under her hair dryer. She gave me a fashion magazine and told me to look through it carefully and think about which of the fashions I thought I could wear and why some just wouldn’t work for me. She said I should be ready to discuss it with her later.
I spent almost an hour under the dryer with that magazine. I had never really paid much attention to girl’s clothes before. I hadn’t had the interest. Now, sitting here, with my hair in rollers, with the warm air carrying the mixed sweet scents of shampoo, conditioner, and setting lotion to my nose, and seeing my hands, tipped with shiny, polished nails, flipping the pages, it seemed like the most interesting stuff in the world.
I looked at all the styles, from what they called "casual" to "business wear," to outfits they called "date dresses." I think I liked the ones that were called "day-into-evening" best. You were supposed to be able to wear them to work, in an office, of course, and go right out after work to a nice restaurant or something. The magazine even showed how to adjust your makeup for the evening. They recommended subtle changes, aimed at looking more "dramatic."
When my hair was dry, Cheryl took out the rollers and went to work with a brush and a can of hairspray. I wasn’t sure what a "flip" really was, but I think I had one. My hair was parted on one side and worked up into a fluffy mass on top. The sides had a shape like a big S. The bottom was turned up in a wide curl all around my head.
I tentatively touched the curl, while looking in the mirror.
"I guess this is where the name ‘flip’ comes from. This hairdo is kind of dressy, isn’t it?"
"Yes, perhaps a bit much for coffee with Jill, but I wanted to see how it would look on you. Now for the makeup."
Cheryl made me put on some of the makeup myself. I found that it was less annoying to do my eyes myself than to let Cheryl do them. She did my brows and lip liner though. I did the lipstick.
I studied myself in the mirror. This hairdo was very feminine, but somehow, I liked it. The makeup looked a little heavy.
"Cheryl, is my makeup a bit too.. too dramatic.. for a day around the house?"
"Well, maybe.. Oh Drew, stop kidding around."
Then we both had a good laugh.
For the rest of the week, I practiced every day. I got home from school and changed into female clothes, including hair and makeup. Cheryl helped me with the makeup a lot on Monday, less on Tuesday, and left me on my own on Wednesday. I managed to do my makeup completely, even the eyeliner, without inuring myself. I think Cheryl was impressed with how I was catching on.
While dressed, I had to practice walking, talking, sitting, even gesturing like a girl. Talking was the only thing that came easily. After all, learning to talk like a girl had gotten me into this mess to begin with. Cheryl recorded my voice and played it back to me. I found that by softening my voice and raising the pitch only a little, I could sound like a girl. I didn’t have a high, sweet voice, but I did sounded more female than male.
Cheryl made me practice walking around the house in the "heels" she had bought for me. I had to learn a new way to balance my weight as I walked. I began using more hip motion and less shoulder motion. By Tuesday, I was starting to feel comfortable in them. I hoped that I would remember to only use this walk when wearing heels.
Tuesday was also the day that she showed me exactly how to sit in a chair. I had to show her that I could sit down slowly, always in control of my posture.
"A girl doesn’t just plop into a chair. Sitting down can be an art. It can be as demure, or as sexy, as you wish. But never clumsy."
It was just about impossible to sit with my knees pressed together. My anatomy wouldn’t cooperate. We settled on a seated position with both my legs off to one side.
On Wednesday, after I had finished with my hair and makeup, Cheryl and I just sat and talked over coffee. She asked me about school and made sure I answered like a girl. I remembered to be "chatty" and to remain ladylike.
"When two women meet for the first time, they kind of test each other, like guys do. Only with women, it isn’t about being tough and macho, it can be about being refined without being snobby. You’ll impress Jill most if you converse like a lady."
"I’m not sure I can do that. Can’t I just talk to her about radio, after all, we’re both hams."
"Drew, don’t take this the wrong way, but so far, you’re taking to girlhood like a duck to water. Just follow my lead in the conversation, then adapt it to Jill."
Cheryl acted like she was Jill. I followed the conversation. We talked about getting used to a new area, about school, shopping, even about boys. That made me very uncomfortable.
"Cheryl, It makes me feel weird, to talk about guys, like you know, like I’m interested in them."
"You’ll just have to make believe, that’s all. Actually, I doubt it will come up in conversation with Jill, girls don’t usually talk about personal stuff right off the bat anyway."
After dark, Cheryl made me walk out to the car and get in. I was afraid of being seen by a neighbor, so I hurried to the car and tried to get in as fast as I could.
"That won’t do at all. You looked like a bull in a china shop. You’re lucky you didn’t tear the skirt of your dress."
"I didn’t want to be out there any longer than I had to be."
"A lady takes her time. I’m going to drive somewhere, so we can practice."
We drove about 12 miles to a small strip mall. I think Cheryl picked it because it was a place we hardly ever visited. We got out of the car, bought coffee, which we took back and drank in the car. Then we got out again and went into a small gift shop. Cheryl asked if they had any glass miniatures. We looked at a few delicate knick-knacks and discussed them. It was strangely exciting to see my polished fingernails as I held and examined the little glass animals.
In the convenience store where we got the coffee, and in the gift shop, the clerks thought I was a woman, or if they thought otherwise, they didn’t show it.
Thursday we stayed home again. After school, I had to get dressed up and stay as a girl until bedtime. I was getting used to it. Cheryl had taken to dressing up a bit more than usual too. She changed into a skirt and blouse or a simple dress every afternoon that week.
"I won’t have my little brother looking prettier than I look, for a whole week."
That’s what she said, but I think she was doing it to make me feel more comfortable.
Over Thursday dinner, I noticed that our water glasses both had lipstick marks. I guess this had been the case all week, but I hadn’t seen it like this before. It was exciting, intriguing. I could imagine we were two very sophisticated, creative women, like fashion magazine editors, having a business dinner together.
Friday was a big rehearsal. Mom and dad had left us enough money to eat out a few times and this was going to be one of those times. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to a restaurant as a girl.
"A deal is a deal Drew, besides, what better place to rehearse for an appearance at a diner, than at a diner?"
I wore my skirt and blouse again. Cheryl made sure I had hand washed the blouse just before going to sleep on Thursday, and hung it to drip-dry overnight. I had been doing the same with my hose all week.
"When you wash your things by hand, they last longer, or so mom says. Sometimes, I put a couple of drops of cologne in the rinse water. I feel so feminine when I put on a scented blouse."
"I’m not sure I want to feel that feminine."
After a last check on hair, makeup and clothing, we left for the diner. It was one of those places that is somehow more than a diner, though it still has the roadside location and the general shape. This place was called The Neptune, and of course, it specialized in seafood.
We were greeted a young man.
"Good evening ladies, smoking or non-smoking?"
"Two, non smoking please."
So far, so good, We’ve been greeted by a handsome young man, and I could swear he checked my legs as well as Cheryl’s. We were shown to a booth and seated. I remembered to lower myself gently into the seat, smoothing my skirt under me. I sat near the outer end of the bench seat and placed both my legs off to the side, toward the wall. I was being deliberately modest. It was both reassuring and very uncomfortable to have a guy check out my legs!
On Saturday, Jill called to say she was back from Idaho. We agreed to meet at the Coffee Room at 6PM. She said she would be wearing a purple blouse and black slacks. I told her that I would be coming directly from my mother’s choral group performance, so I would be wearing a gray dress. I just did it because wearing the dress made me feel much more feminine than the slacks and blouse Cheryl had also gotten for me.
My junior license let me drive, as long as I got back by 10. I didn’t think about how my appearance wouldn’t match the license photo.
I dressed carefully. Cheryl lent me a strand of fake pearls and matching earrings. She also lent me a black purse. She thought the hair bow wasn’t quite right, and put my hair into s smooth French roll. The feeling of bobby pins and the smell of hairspray just added to my excitement. I liked being dressed as a girl.
Jill was waiting for me at the Coffee Room. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I could barely get up the nerve to approach her. Her face was flawless. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, probably less than I had on. Her hair was elbow length, black and wavy. She wasn’t a skinny girl, rather, she looked quite athletic. She was about my height. She greeted me first.
"Drew, I’m so glad you could make it. How was the chorale?"
"Oh Jill, I couldn’t wait for it to end. You know how those things can be."
"That is a lovely dress, and I love your hair. You look so comfortable dressed up. You must do it often. I always feel a bit out of place when I have to put on a dress and hose."
"Thank you, I really don’t dress all that often. You look fantastic too, you know."
We sat there for about an hour over coffee and sweet rolls, discussing the local area, the attractions, the shopping. I guess this is what they call "girl talk, or at least part of it. The practice session with Cheryl had been valuable. I think I was able to fake it. Jill said that if I wasn’t in a hurry we could see her family’s new place. She said her folks were out for the evening.
Just the suggestion of being in a private, quiet setting with this beautiful woman got my manhood aroused. I was afraid the growing bulge under my dress would be a problem, but the "dancer’s belt" wouldn’t let anything show. I followed her as we drove the mile or so to the house.
Her folks had bought an old farm house. There were still boxes all around. I wondered why she had invited me here while everything was in disarray.
Jill cleared off a small couch and motioned me to sit down.
"Would you like a soda"
"Oh yes, thank you."
Soon she was next to me on the couch. We talked some more. Soon Jill had slipped off her shoes and encouraged me to do the same. It felt good to get out of those tight pumps, no matter how low Cheryl said the heels were. We were sitting so close that it was impossible to keep our legs from touching, even though we both sat with our legs close together. The soft fabric of Jill’s slacks moved smoothly across the nylon of my hose. I had never felt something so exciting on my calf.
"May I look at how you did that hairdo? I would so love to learn how to put my hair up like that."
I turned my head so Jill could inspect how Cheryl had pinned up my hair.
"My sister helped me, I’m not sure I could do it alone either."
Jill gently molded her hand around the roll of hair. I could feel her touching the ends of the pins. My member was straining against the fabric of the belt in an increasingly urgent way.
I could see her nipple through the fabric of her blouse and placed my hand on it. Jill responded with a soft moan.
I had rarely gotten this close to a woman before.
Jill had her arms around me now and was kissing my ear. Her tongue flicked my earring. The piercing was still fresh enough to be sore. Her touch was electrifying. She worked around to my mouth. We were locked mouth to mouth. My lipstick was smeared on her face and hers on mine. I could smell the blended aromas of the both of us. I could feel her hand between my legs. I tried to stop her.
"Don’t worry, I know" she whispered.
"I’m mostly lesbian, but I enjoy a guy now and then. You are the best of both."
Now our clothes were in a pile on the floor.
Over the next hour, I experienced things I had never even imagined. Jill was a warm and patient teacher, and I was a willing student.
Later, as we got dressed and fixed our hair and makeup, Jill began to talk about what we could do next week.
"Drew, you are the most exciting guy I’ve ever met. I can’t wait to have you show me around the area. How about dinner next Saturday, my treat?"
I could hardly believe my ears.
"Sure, I know a very pretty little place, kind of out of the way. I’ll pick you up here at 6:30."
"Great, and Drew, please.."
She threw her arms around me and whispered.
"Look as lovely as you look tonight."
© 2000
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this
story must contact the author for permission.