Thanks to Prissy

by Jennifer White

  

Here I was a back at school working on my Ph.D. in psychology. In high school, I had been at the head of my class. But when I went to college, it was strange because many of the other girls who were smart like me didn't continue on. And when I went for my masters, there were fewer of us yet. And now, at the highest level of education, I found that I was the only woman in the class. But that wasn't going to stop me.

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Faye Baylor, and soon you'll be able to call me Dr. Faye Baylor! But anyway, back to my story.

When you are in higher education, you need to work on research as part of your degree. You choose some idea, design studies to test it, and publish a paper. You have a professor as a mentor to help you along the way. I was lucky enough to have found a caring woman as my mentor. Unlike the man I had to work with when I went for my masters degree, she was a better listener, and seemed to actually *care* about me. So I was very happy with the arrangement.

I was trying to come up with the idea for my paper, but I wasn't having any luck. So I took a break, and went to the student center. I ordered a coffee, then drifted into the room where they had guest speakers. The one they had selected for today was an advocate for equal rights. They were having a lively discussion of the treatment of gays, lesbians, and transgendered individuals. At the moment, the speaker was talking about cross dressers.

Most of the crowd, as you would expect at a college campus, was on the liberal side. But there was one guy who was violently opposed to treating 'them' equally. Now I had several lesbians, and they were people, just like anyone else. And I suspected that my hair dresser Jack was gay. But he was very nice, and I saw no reason that he should be threatening to this jerk. In fact, it was cool to know a man who knew more about fashion and romance movies than I did. Okay, 'suspected him to be gay' is too mild.

But as I was saying, this guy just wouldn't let up on the speaker. He kept at him, and even the boos from the crowd didn't stop him from harassing the speaker. That's when it hit me. The idea for my paper.

You see, one day I had been waiting for my hair appointment at the salon, and I had been chatting with this guy who was waiting too. His mannerisms and speech made me think he was gay. So I introduced him to Jack, thinking that I was doing a good thing. But this guy had this violent reaction to Jack, and he stormed out of there!

And looking at the heckler in the audience, I just caught something in his posture or something. He just had something about him which made me think of gay men I had met before. So he was one of the, but he was so staunchly against them.

The theory just popped into my head: the people who hate 'alternative' lifestyles the most, are ones who have urges for that lifestyle themselves! They hate themselves for it, so they transfer their hate onto others who live that way. They blame the others for 'making' them feel that way!

If my theory was true, then it would explain so much! Now all I needed to do was to test it out. This guy was perfect to test my theory on. But I needed to figure out a way to do it. I couldn't just go up to him and tell him I wanted to test if he was really in the closet, and denying his inner urges. I needed to prove it, but without telling him.

I thought of a way, but rejected it immediately. It sickened me. But try as I might, I couldn't think of anything else. So I was forced to go with my original thought. I waited until the meeting broke up, and tracked down Mr. Jerk in the hallway.

"Hello" I said.

"Well hello there yourself" he said to me.

"I was impressed in there. You were the only one with enough guts to speak up and tell the truth" I said. Inside I cringed, but I reminded myself that I was playing a role, to do my research.

I flirted with him a bit, and he responded, but only mildly. I hate to seem egotistical, but I have always been pretty. One of my girlfriends in high school called me a 'golden girl'. I could have gotten by on my looks alone, but I wanted to make it because of my brains. I didn't have a boyfriend, because I didn't have the time right now. But I was a good flirt, and I could get any guy interested in me any time I wanted to. When this guy didn't respond right away, I knew either he was married, didn't have a sex drive, or wasn't interested in women!

I determined that his name was Henry Brown, and that he was single, never married, and was a grad student in math. And that the ones he hated the most were cross dressers.

If my theory was right, then inside, he had the desire to cross dress. And he hated those who did, because they were 'making him' want to do it. In his mind, if he eliminated them, he would eliminate the thing making him want to do it.

So all I had to do was to get him to cross dress, and admit his desires to me.

* * *

 

I started out by hinting that I wanted to go out on a date. And of course, he offered to take me out. I love how you can make a man think that it was his idea. He was probably boasting to his buddies how this blonde was all hot for him. I was, but not in the way he thought. I just wanted to see him in a skirt.

So we went out a few times, and it turned out that when he wasn't bashing people who's sexual preferences he didn't approve of, he was actually pretty nice. And cute, and smart too. If he didn't have this inner hatred, I might have actually liked the guy enough to have feelings for him.

But I had to keep myself cool and distant I was doing a study, not falling in love.

 

We went out 5 or 6 times before I did anything out of the ordinary to start testing my theory. It was that 6th time, that I told him I was too tired, and asked if I could stay over at his place. He had an apartment, and he didn't share it with anyone. So it was perfect for my plan: when I left in the morning, I 'accidentally' left my panties and bra behind for him to find.

All day long, I wondered how he was doing, being alone there with my intimate female apparel. If he had urges to cross dress, then he might have tried them on. I had made sure to use new ones, so if he put them on, I would be able to tell if the fabric had stretched or not.

When I came over the next day, I didn't mention them. Neither did he. So he wasn't too anxious to unload them. A good sign for me! It was then that I started to move in with him, bit by bit. I would leave makeup behind, or ask if I could keep a few changes of clothes at his place, in case I had to put on something else when I was hanging out there.

Now his closet had a skirt in it, a couple of cute tops, and a few bras & panties. If I was right about him, then my clothes would be getting worn while I was away. I made sure to arrange my things in such a manner that if they were disturbed, I would be able to tell.

And in fact, when I checked a few days later, I could tell that my bra had at least been out of the drawer. He had either worn it, or had taken it out to feel it. Either way, it was a good sign for me. I had given him plenty of opportunity now, to dress in my clothes. I suspected that he was doing it. Now all I had to do was to catch him.

* * *

 

I pondered how I could catch Henry in the act. I could just pop in some time, and hope my timing was right. But if I picked the wrong time, then I would be worse off, because I would have lost the element of surprise. I had made sure that I always called hours before I came over. That gave him a sense that he had plenty of time before seeing me.

I had found his spare key on the counter, and made a copy of it before I returned it to the proper place. He never noticed. So I could just barge in any time I wanted to. I just had to be sure.

I decided to use an old psychological technique I had learned. Something to increase my odds: I went out and rented a movie where one of the main themes was cross dressing, and brought it over on a Saturday afternoon. I knew he wouldn't like it, but I made up a cover story.

"My friend Laurie is writing a paper. She's the one who is a theater major. She gave me this film, and I promised her that I'd watch it so I could give an objective opinion on her criticism. Do you mind if we watch it together?"

"No problem" he said. He didn't suspect what the film contained.

We watched the first 45 minutes, without a problem. But when the cross dressing part of the movie kicked in, Henry predictably became violently upset.

"Get that crap off! You know I hate that! Its sick and wrong!"

"I'm sorry honey, I didn't know it was that kind of film. Laurie didn't tell me anything about that! I'm so sorry. I know how much you hate men who go around wearing dresses."

"Damn right!" he said, storming out of the room.

I smiled. I had him now. You see, for the next few hours, while I hung out with him, he would have cross dressing on the mind. And I would be sure to drop a few words here and there about the movie, to make sure it wasn't far from his attention.

Then after I left, he would have been thinking about it for hours. And he had the opportunity, with plenty of my pretty clothes for him to choose from. If he did in fact have the urge to crosiers, that evening would be it.

I drove back to his place after sunset, and waited in my car, where I had a view of his room. He had the shades pulled down, so I couldn't see in. But I could see a silhouette on the shades as he moved around.

Then I saw the light in the bedroom get dimmer, as he pulled the curtains closed. Shades and curtains? He wouldn't do that unless he *really* didn't want anyone to see in. I waited a while longer, and noticed a silhouette against the shade in the living room now. When he turned to the side, I noticed something. Breasts. Jutting out from the shape of the body was the distinct shape of female breasts. Now was the time to make my move.

I went to the stairway, up to the third floor where he lived. I went to his room, put the key in the door, and quietly unlocked it. I quietly turned the knob, and swung the door open. Then I knocked loudly, and walked in.

"Henry? Are you here? I forgot to grab that stupid video that I...."

I cut myself off in mid-sentence when I caught a glimpse of him wearing my clothes. My bra had been stuffed full with something, making it look like he had breasts. He even had my pantyhose on, and had poorly applied makeup on his face!

"Henry?"

"What are you doing here?" he said, almost in a whisper.

"I forgot the video. The door was unlocked, so I came in" I lied.

"This isn't what you think" he said. Even under the coat of makeup, he was blushing.

"What is it then?" I said, pretending to be angry. "I leave my clothes here so that I can change if I need to, and I find that my boyfriend is wearing them! I'm falling in love with a man who wishes he was a woman! You're not gay are you? You lied to me..."

"No! Stop! Please, it's not like that!" he insisted.

 

I had him now. Trapped. I was victorious! My theory was proven beyond a doubt. I would write this all up, and graduate with honors. But I decided to have some fun with him now, to teach him a lesson. He was so hateful and closed minded. I would show him a thing or two.

"I feel so violated! You're wearing my clothes!" I said, almost yelling.

"Faye! Keep it down! People will hear you!"

"Hear me saying that you're dressed up like a woman? Do you want to be me Henry? Is that it? Perhaps I should call you Hazel instead."

"No!" he replied.

"Yes. Hazel Brown. Has a nice ring to it, like a Dickens character."

"I'm not Hazel!" he insisted.

"Oh, do you have another name for yourself? Most cross dressers do. When they dress up, they become someone else in their mind. So are you Michelle? Wendy? Katie?"

"No!" he insisted.

"Then who? Tell me now!" I said, threateningly.

"Priscilla" he said, defeated.

"Oh, a lovely female name. I can call you 'Prissy' for short!"

He stood mute. That must have been his private nickname for himself too.

"Okay Prissy, I'll give you two choices right now, since you've just crushed me by having pretended to be someone who you're really not."

"What?" he said weakly.

"Choice one: I can go tell *everyone* about you. Tell the whole school that you are the biggest cross dresser of them all!"

"Please don't do that!" he said.

"Choice two: let me doll you up some more, and you go out with me tonight to the bar."

"I can't do that! People will recognize me!" he said.

"Not when I'm through with you. And not only that, we're going to the lesbian bar. It will only be other women. You claim to hate them, so you won't know any of them. Or do you have lots of gay friends you hang out with, and you just don't tell me?"

"No! It's not like that! Please!"

"One or two? Should I call the school newspaper?"

I pulled a camera out of my purse while he went to get a drink to calm his nerves. When he got back, I snapped a picture of him.

"Hey!" he said, "What's that for?"

"Insurance. If you're a good girl tonight, I'll give you the film. But if you so much as do *anything* against what I say, then this goes to the school paper. Got it, Prissy?"

"Yes" he said.

"Yes what?"

He gave me a blank look.

"Yes *Mistress*. Tonight, I control you. And you had better hope you please me."

"Yes Mistress, I will" he said.

He had the look in his eyes like a puppy dog does, the first time that he learns to heel when being walked. He was broken. He was *mine*.

* * *

 

I helped 'Prissy' with her makeup, making 'her' as pretty as possible. 'She' didn't protest very much through it all. It wasn't until I took her by the hand and started out the door that it dawned on her that I was actually serious. Then she whined a bit, but I twisted her arm with threats until she shut up.

I drove us to a local bar which was quiet and dimly lit. It was full of women of all shapes, sizes, and types. The only thing: they were all lesbians (or lesbo-curious). I had to admit having visited there myself a few times.

I made Prissy sit with me at a table in the middle of the place. That meant that we had constant traffic going by us. She looked like a either a man in drag, or a very butch girl. So there were lots of women eyeing her up and down. I saw a friend of mine over at another table.

"I'll be right back Prissy. Don't leave this table, do you understand?!!"

"Yes Mistress" she whispered.

I went and chatted with my friend, who I had met at school years ago. We caught up on what was going on with each other, and had a lovely chat. I kept an eye on Prissy. At least three women hit on her, and one of them was sitting at the table with her now.

Imagine how Henry must have felt! He hated people with alternate lifestyles, but here he was, as one of them, in public! He claimed to only be interested in women, and here he was being hit on by women, but unable to respond to them. It was wonderful to watch him squirm.

When I returned to the table, there was a very feminine looking blonde girl flirting with Prissy. He must have been so excited to have a knockout like that going at him! But to keep her interest up, Prissy had to be a girl.

"Oh, were you with her?" asked the blonde.

"No, she's just a friend. I'm leaving. She's all yours" I said.

I walked out the door, and caught a helpless glance from Henry as the blonde moved in for the kill on him.

* * *

 

I didn't ever see Henry again. In a way that is. Because, I did see Prissy from time to time. You see, Henry decided that he had found himself when he was Prissy, and that he had fallen in love with the little blonde babe he met in the bar. He would become a full time woman in order to have a chance with her. And when she found out that he was a man trying to become a woman, it made her fall in love with him.

We all had a happy ending. Especially me, because my paper got an A+, and I graduated with honors. All thanks to Prissy.

  

  

  

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