Too Far                                   by Rachel Ann Cooper             © 1998

 

Charles had been a good enough figure skater in high school to land a scholarship. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a great scholar and had a very definite chip on his shoulder. He figured the world owed him a living because his father was well off. He did manage to get through his freshman year but had been arrested once for being drunk in town. Benton college didn’t take kindly to their athletes being arrested and coupled with his arrogant attitude, they invited him not to return in the fall.

His father was furious and they pretty well had it all out one summer night in the library, out of earshot of his mother. His dad told him that he had one more chance to make good in school, both as a student and a skater, not to mention as a human being. It was time for him to grow up or ship out. Well, Charles was used to his comfortable life style and he loved to skate and was pretty good so he promised to be good. He would promise anything not to be thrust into the work force or military school, which was his dad’s ultimate threat for another three years. This time, his father picked the school. It was in Ohio. He’d never heard of it before, the New Britton College. They had a ski team and a figure skating and ice hockey teams though, and he thought, "(what the hell, as long as Dad’s paying and I’m playing)."

Charlies’’ father got him some brochures from the school and it looked like a nice campus, well cared for and lots of flowers around the buildings. He had to go in for pre-registration a week early and although it wasn’t usual, he had to meet with the registrar. Mr. Holbrook was a tall, dark and good looking man in his fifties and the conversation was a bit one sided. "Sit down Mr. Adams. We are aware of your previous records both scholastically and athletically and you will find that, unlike Benton, we will neither ask you not to come back nor will we suspend you. We have other means of dealing with disciplinary problems here and your father has signed the usual waiver giving us carte blanche in using whatever methods necessary to see that you graduate. If you are asked to leave a class, you will report to your counselor, Miss Stevens the first time. Should it happen a second time, you will report to her and be grounded for a month. The third time you will report to the infirmary." "The infirmary?" "Yes, and I really don’t recommend it, but we have turned out many fine graduates who have initially been that much of a problem." "I see. Well, thank you for the warning, Mr Holbrook." (Who does he think he is? This is my life and I’ll live it on my terms!)

It was October, skating practice was in full swing but the coach was always on his tail about lack of style and grace. His jumps were fair but if he was going to win, he was going to have to learn how to make his routines more fluid. As many male skaters, like Paul Wiley, he was on the small side, only wearing a size 6 ½ skate and weighing about 130. His legs were strong and he got good height in his jumps though. Skating was going better than his classes.

November 5^th, Mrs. Gooding kicked him out of psychology class and he had to report to the counselor who, as expected, gave him the same old line he’d been hearing for years. He was very agreeable and went on to his next class again with a rebellious attitude as he left the office.

Just before Thanksgiving, he was caught with beer in the dorm and grounded which meant he could not leave the campus, except for a week of Thanksgiving vacation, before Christmas. Charlie was really pissed. With all his Dad’s money and influence, he had to put up with this crap? The school, quite naturally advised his dad of his misbehavior and told him that Charlie had only one more chance before they would have to put him in ‘virtual therapy.’ So, over the Christmas holiday, Charlie not only got a new Cavalier convertible but also a very stern lecture from his father. "Charles, you have stretched my patience and the school’s to the limit. You are the one who will decide the course of the rest of your life. I just hope you can adjust." "Yes sir, I’ll try." (I don’t know what he means by ‘adjust’ but they said they wouldn’t kick me out, so why should I worry about it?)

Charlie hadn’t been back to school two weeks when he mouthed off to the coach and was suspended from the skating team until his ‘therapy’ was over or made sufficient changes in his attitude that he would be welcome again, whatever that meant. OK fine. Whatever. He was sent to the infirmary where the doctor told him to lie down and began attaching electrodes to his temples and chest and one on each thigh at the hip and one on each side of his waist. The doctor told him to just relax as he was just going to take some readings and that he would probably fall asleep.

Not only did he fall asleep, he dreamed in vivid color and 3D and he was skating a short program doing double and triple axles, spins and extensions with all the style and graceful movements the coach had been hounding him about. Hey, this was great. If this was punishment, he liked it. Now if he could only skate that way for real. As he was coming down off his double axle he caught a glimpse of his pleated skirt. My SKIRT? As he woke up, the doctor was giving him an injection of a clear fluid. "Alright Mr. Adams, we are done for today. See if you can stay out of trouble and report back here day after tomorrow." "Yes sir." (Hey, that wasn’t so bad. I’d rather come here than have to listen to a lecture any day. A skirt?)

He went down and watched practice, visualizing himself as in his dream doing things gracefully the way coach wanted, ending in applause from the audience. On Wednesday, he reported again to the doctor and they went though the same routine except the dream wasn’t about skating this time. He was downtown shopping for clothes, window shopping actually. It was a mild day and he looked in many of the windows and went into the mall. Why was he looking in the women’s wear and lingerie and shoe shops? He had a flash of a girl that appeared to look something like him walking out to her car in her tight mid thigh skirt and slender mid heeled pumps and she had a really sexy walk. That was nuts. In his dream, he didn’t go in and actually buy anything and who would he be buying it for anyway? Again he awoke while he was getting a shot. He went on to his next class. His next session was Friday. This time he was in class and paying attention and learning something and then he was skating again but he felt strange, lighter and more graceful yet and he looked down and found he had a leotard on and an outer garment that looked like a panty.

Over the weekend, he had all those dreams again without the aid of the electrodes. Interesting. On Monday during a free period, he had to go in again. He was now scheduled to report there every other day until his conduct warranted being allowed back with the team. In his next dream while on the table, he was having lunch in the coffee shop with a group of girls. Man, I’m surrounded by chicks. This is alright! They were talking and laughing and having a great time. The conversation was centered around boys, clothes and makeup as if there wasn’t a boy within earshot and he joined right in feeling right at home. ‘I guess if I want to get next to chicks, I’d better learn girl talk,’ he reassured himself.

Before his next appointment for his virtual therapy, he got in an argument with his math teacher. When next he saw the doctor, he was told, "Mr. Adams, we just cannot have the kind of behavior you show at this school. You have simply gone too far this time. We only graduate well educated, polite and well groomed students. For the next 30 days, you will report here not every other day but every day. Is that clear. "Sure. I don’t mind." "Also, at the end of that time you will be assigned to a different dorm and get a new room mate." "No problem doc. Let’s get on with it."

In his dreams that followed that week, he found himself in his usual environment, the dorm, skating, the cafeteria, coffee shop and classrooms or out shopping. He was now aware, however, that while he was in his dream state, he was receiving tiny electrical shocks from the electrodes placed near his groin, chest and especially, his waist and the doctor had added one to each biceps and thigh. They didn’t really hurt but they came about every six seconds and at the end of the session, he felt rather ‘tight’ in those areas, especially his waist. One peculiar thing about his dreams was, he never saw himself in a mirror, ever. He noticed one other thing when he woke up Tuesday. There seemed to be a small capsule under his skin near his pectoral muscles. It also felt like there were two in his groin too. Actually, these were not capsules at this point but merely injection sites. There wasn’t a mark on him, just some redness. Over this second weekend of intensive therapy, he dreamed all the dreams he had before. But, there was a new dream added. He was going with the girl’s team to ballet class where he put on his leotard and ballet slippers and went through the standard exercises and beginning instruction. "I guess this is part of that ‘graceful’ stuff coach wanted me to learn. Well, I suppose it’s not too bad. I never knew I could stretch this far."

Monday morning, there was a note under his door to report to ballet class during gym period where he did indeed don a leotard, very tight panty and ballet slippers, TOE slippers, just like the girls. He felt pretty silly, but did as he was told. At the bar, it was hard to tell him from the rest of the girls except for his lack of a girlish figure. He was informed that he had to report there every other day. That afternoon, he reported to the doctor and the routine followed. That day he dreamed of skating. He was there before practice lacing up his beige skates (beige skates? he thought).

A second after he finished that dream revelation, one of the girls on the team came up to him in the dream and told him, "Charlie, from now on, things are going to begin to change rapidly in your virtual dreams. This reality will become your true reality. However you feel or look or act here, you will do in real life and you will want to because it will feel right to you. Besides, you will have no control over it. None. If you resist, it will only be worse for you and you will have horrible headaches. Do you understand?" "Yes, Donna, I think so but I don’t see how that is possible." Oh, believe me, it is possible. I am a shining example. You will do as they wish and think nothing of it. It will all seem perfectly natural. Your mind and body will become in tune with each other. And don’t be surprised at changes that you see in your room or in the way people are treating you. It’s all for your own good. Just enjoy it. It’s felt good so far hasn’t it." "Yeah, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be." Just then he woke up. He mentioned to the doctor that his earrings were making his lobes a little tender and the doctor told him to dab some hydrogen peroxide on them from time to time and twist them every so often. His memories told him he had them done a year ago. Wonder why they were sore now?

Monday after class he returned to the dorm where he found that some changes had taken place. His desk had been replaced with a tall legged one with a bench seat and four small drawers. There was a white chenille bedspread on his bed. When he opened his closet, he noticed that his ballet slippers had company on the floor. There was now a pair of girl’s high heeled bedroom slippers next to them and in place of his pajamas hung a full length set of pure silk ones. All of his night wear had been replaced. He looked in his skate bag and sure enough, there were his beige skates. ‘Didn’t I used to have black ones?’

That’s right. Donna told me my virtual reality would become my true reality. There was now a mirror behind the desk on the wall. There was now also a full length one on the room side of the bathroom door. He sat down and unleashed his mane from the beret that was holding it at the back and threw it in the drawer with the rest of the hair accessories. He then took a cloth covered Scunci, brushed his hair on top of his head and put his pony tail up at the crown. All of this seemed only a little strange to him but nothing he got upset about. After dinner in the cafeteria, he got into his pjs and slippers and settled down to some studying.

He did think it a little odd that almost all of his dreams now involved being with a bunch of girls or maybe just one or two when he was off campus. He never seemed to be hanging with the guys anymore.

Tuesday’s virtual dream contained skating practice again but his skates were white this time. He looked down at his practice costume and noticed that it had a very short, full skirt and his chest had noticeable ‘A’ sized bumps. Cute, he thought. They must have me practicing with the girl’s team now as punishment except it didn’t feel like punishment. After practice, he went to his ballet class with the rest of the girl’s team. He was learning his ‘positions’ and learning his spins and hand movements and all in very graceful, slow movements in his toe shoes just like the rest of the girls. All the girls complained about their toe shoes.

When he looked at himself at the bar in the full wall mirror, he saw himself with his dangle earrings, braided hair and bosom. He seemed to be getting smaller in the waist, and shorter, which made his hips look bigger and with that tight panty on, you really would have a hard time telling he wasn’t one of the girl’s team. This he all took in stride. He was almost able to do a split now. After class, he removed his sports bra and put on his regular one along with a fresh pair of panties, his knee highs, slacks, blouse and navy blue flats and put on a dab of lipstick from his fanny pack and left with his team mates for the cafeteria. The pulsations from the probes were a little stronger now and before he woke up, he noticed that he had sat down to pee. He awoke to the usual shot, just a mild prick in the arm. It didn’t even hurt. "Thanks, doctor, he said, picking up his bag and heading back to his room.

He hadn’t thought to look in the skate bag until then but sure enough, there were his white, size 8 skates and the skirt. Wait a minute. I only take a six ½ , he thought so he put them on but sure enough, they fit perfectly. He hung up the skirt without thinking about it. What am I doing, growing? He decided to measure himself and marked with a pencil on the bathroom wall and measured with his ruler. 5"4". That’s right, isn’t it? Then he sat down at his desk, took off the scunci his hair was tied back with and chose a clip with a white flower to replace it. He looked in the closet again and sure enough, all the clothing that he had left ballet class with in his dream was there as well as the sequined and skirted skating costume.

He decided to clean up before dinner, climbed in the shower, washed his hair and shaved under his arms and shaved his legs putting on some body lotion afterward and dusting himself with powder. He reached into the medicine cabinet and put on some Loreal Colorstay lipstick and the clothes he had worn back from ballet practice in his dream, then went to dinner. All of a sudden, the realization of what he looked like and what he was doing did come to him but he had lost control. Just like he’d been told, he couldn’t stop himself. He was dressing and acting like a girl, was even on the girl’s skating team. Why couldn’t he stop this?

There was not so much as an eyebrow raised in the halls or at dinner. The girl’s from the team invited him over to their table and they had the usual giggly conversation about boys and clothes and shopping and boys. He just mainly sat back taking this all in. After dinner, he got his lipstick out of his fanny pack along with his blusher compact and fixed his lips just like the rest of them. Colorstay my foot, he thought! He realized now that this was the new reality that his dream Donna had told him about. The things he was doing and wearing were girl things and they did indeed, seem rather natural. He was beginning to feel good about himself again.

During the walk back to the dorm, he had a conversation with himself that boiled down to, "hey, Charlie, what’s going on? You’re wearing dangle earrings and lipstick and girl’s clothes. It looks like you are growing boobs, your waist is shrinking, you’re wearing flowers in your hair. There’s bras, which you need, and panties in your top drawer and you’re learning to be a ballerina and seem to be practicing with the girls team and you only hang out with girls. You’re sitting down to pee and your weeny seems to be shrinking and your chest is beginning to look more than a little flabby without a bra and your nipples are really big and tender. What’s going on? Doesn’t all of this make you... uncomfortable? And then he answered himself: Uh...well, it did at first but now I’m not getting in trouble any more and I have more friends and it feels, I don’t know, kinda natural. Life sure is more peaceful and I am having a lot of fun now. Actually, my life is a LOT more fun now. I LIKE having girlfriends and flirting with boys. I LIKE flirting with BOYS?"

Wednesday’s dream had him skating in a white sequined outfit and a white pleated skirt down to his knees with his hair in a French braid from the crown back and tied in a bow. He was turning in much more stylish performances now. His ballerina training was paying off. After practice, he and four of the girls piled into his convertible and went down to the mall for shopping and dinner. They had a great time. He went into all the shops with them and they held up various items against him and made suggestions on what would look nice on him. He did end up picking out a new bra, a blouse and a skirt. One of his friends suggested he might want to get a bigger bra, so he did buy just one in a B cup.

At Belks he pickup up a pair of black leather mid heeled pumps in his hands and just looked them over. The salesman came over and asked, "would you like to try on a pair of those Miss? What size do you take?" Without thinking about it, Charlie replied, "eight." The salesman brought out the shoes and Charlie tried them on. They fit and felt good and his friends all liked them so he bought them. Then he noticed a pair of red flats and a darling pair of black patent 3" spike heels. He just had to have them too. ‘I LIKE shopping,’ he thought.

When he dropped them off at their dorm, Norma gave him a package. She said, "Charlie, this is a present. You really need this and you are going to be needing it SOON. "Thanks, Norma. Whatever it is, I promise I’ll use it." When he got back to his room he opened the package and found a box of Tampons and another other of super pads. He thought, "what is she thinking. Boys don’t menstruate!

And then he thought, ‘true, but they don’t wear girls skates or shoes or lipstick either, do they, but you do and you don’t seem to mind it at all now, do you?" So he took off his blouse and put on his new bra, blouse, skirt and patent heels. He looked in the mirror. Hmmm. Nice. I love the pumps and ‘she’ took a little walk down to the pop machine to try out ‘her’ new shoes. Her feminine swivel hipped gait betrayed her several years of (virtual)practice.

Then he looked in his closet again and found all his slacks and jeans had been replaced with the feminine equivalent and hanging next to his satin pjs was a lovely silk full length peignoir set. His shirts had been replaced with blouses and there was no more male underwear in his chest of drawers, just panties, bras and pantyhose. In fact, there was no longer a single stitch of masculine clothing to be found. When he sat down at the vanity, ‘yes that’s what this is a vanity’, there was a makeup mirror there along with various other items of feminine cosmetics, a full array.

He wondered what his eyes would look like with mascara and a little shadow, so he tried it and seemed to know instinctively how to use it. He then put on a different blouse, some knee highs and a pair of slacks, noticing that his waist and behind seemed to be rather impressive. He slipped into his flats and went to dinner. The other girls complimented him on her appearance (no, that was not a typo) and one of them said, "honey you are going to be a heartbreaker before you are finished." "Thanks Bonnie." (What the heck is she talking about, before I’m finished?)

He went back to the dorm to study, got into his new gown noticing how nicely it fit her figure, put on his nylon robe and slippers and settled in for the night after creaming off her makeup. The next morning, he redid all her makeup, put in some gold hoops, put on some pantyhose, slacks, a blouse and a bracelet and her new flats and went off to class as usual. Now there is no doubt that the Charlie that enrolled in this school looked and acted a great deal differently than the present one and he was only half baked, so to speak. The entire faculty and student body, however, knew exactly what was causing this. He had been a discipline problem. He had stepped over the edge, gone TOO FAR, and he was being given a more civilized lifestyle, one which would be with him the rest of his days on earth. They never even acknowledged that anything had changed. They treated him just like any other girl!

Over the weekend, he again had all his dreams come back each night. Each time he saw his new self, he became more accepting and calmer and his new self became more female, his body becoming rounder and his bosom blossoming to proportions of a very mature young lady. He was becoming a good student, an obedient student, and getting along with all his classmates. He had an extra dream that weekend too. He dreamed he was at one of the regular monthly dances and he was out on the dance floor twirling and dancing up a storm. Was that really him in the rust colored knit dress with the brown suede pumps and little shoulder bag dancing with a boy? Was that his cute figure? He was having a great time, though, whoever he was. Wait a minute. He was in the girl’s lavatory in a stall pulling down his panties and there was nothing to see in his crotch except a patch of hair. No matter. It’s only a dream. [Wait a minute Charlie. Your virtual dreams are showing you as a young woman and Donna said that your virtual reality was now becoming the true reality. Maybe it’s not a dream?]

Monday’s routine followed the end of last weeks’ with Charlie dressing and acting more the girl than boy. He barely noticed the difference. He got to skating practice and his coach told him that from now on, she was going to have to practice with the girls. His routines just weren’t strong enough for the men’s team. So his new coach was Mrs. Peyton and she treated him just like one of her other girls never skipping a beat. It was getting hard to tell the difference anyway with the breasts and makeup, hair and hips. Hips! When he looked in the mirror in the locker room, he thought, "man, these hips are wide enough to birth a baby! He also had therapy and ballet that day so his schedule was really full on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

At his therapy session, he looked at himself when he got undressed to get into the hospital gown. He was getting just a bit hip heavy and could swear he was getting a little tummy between his hips while his waist continued to diminish rapidly and his chest continued to increase just as rapidly, especially noticeable were his areola, now a couple inches across. His nipples were erect all the time now. Yes, it was a good thing he had a bra to wear. The doctor interrupted his reverie with, "OK Charlie, time to stop admiring yourself and get up on the table."

"His dreams were getting more vivid and more real, if that were possible. And he was now reaching back into the ‘real’ world and drawing on it for some of the things that went on in his virtual dreams. This was somewhat confusing.

For instance, he had seen an ad in the paper on Sunday that there was a sale on skirts, suits and dresses going on at Penney’s and he dreamt in the dorm that he and his girl friends went down to the mall and pigged out on expanding their wardrobes. Penney’s handled very good women’s clothing.

He saw himself being waited on, ushered into the ladies try on rooms and buying three skirts and two dresses and a skirted suit and two pairs of dress pumps. He was having a great time with his friends and loved shopping. He noticed that the doctor was attaching more electrodes today; he put them on Charlies’, shoulders, rib cage and buttocks as well. The doctor weighed him after the session. He was down to 118 pounds but he liked the way he looked. After ballet class, he and his girl friends did indeed go down to the mall and fulfill his dream in the dorm with ‘real’ reality. He came home wearing a new skirt and a pair of pumps with about a 2 ½" heel like he had worn them all ‘her’ life.

He noticed how differently he was walking. He had a definite wiggle going. He felt...attractive, desirable. His face had changed a lot since beginning therapy too. It was now a quite feminine version of Charlie’s which was very acceptable, he thought. Nobody had ever given him any peculiar looks when out in the world. And his peach fuzz beard had all but disappeared.

He took great care hanging up his new clothes. He had pickup up a pair of 2" hoop earrings and 3" dangles, too, not trashy, elegant. Tuesday, he wore one of his new skirts with a ruffled blouse, a couple bracelets and his new hoops to breakfast with the girls and then on to classes. They were all complimenting each other on their new clothes. Charlie was now quite adept at doing her hair and makeup but played it down for class. He didn’t want to get in any more trouble.

During that day’s dream therapy, one of his team mates came to him and they had a little chat. She said, "Charlie, we all love you and you have come along really well in your skating and we want you to be completely comfortable with yourself, your new self, that is. You do understand that there is very little of the old Charlie left, don’t you?" "Yes Gina, I have seen and felt it and I’m actually beginning to really enjoy it. The girl’s costumes certainly are prettier than the boys and my body doesn’t fit in very well on the boys team anymore. I just love the feeling of my clothes and heels, the hair and makeup, all of it. I guess they are changing my behavior by changing me into a girl, aren’t they?"

"Yes. That is their ultimate weapon. You are losing muscle mass , even your skeletal structure has changed and very soon, all that was Charlie will have disappeared, replaced with a 100% all American completely feminine girl." "100%?" "That’s right, hon. The shots, the capsules under your breasts and in your genitals, what you perceive to be tiny shocks; all of this along with your changing virtual dreams combined to change you completely into a female. This school has state of the art technology." "That’s why she gave me the tampons and napkins! I’m going to start menstruating. Oh, my! I could get PREGNANT!"

"In a short while, you will even be able to have a baby and nurse it and you will want to. Your milk glands are growing like weeds. You will be attracted only to boys and they to you and it will all be very natural, just like you were born to it." "You know, Gina, I had a dream over the weekend and I was at a dance and I think I was wearing a rust colored dress and pumps. I was a girl and having a good time." "When is my reproductive system going to change, Gina?" "It’s about ½ way there now. When you wake up today, check yourself out. You will find your thighs have filled in and your penis is the size of your thumb with soft folds of skin beginning to wrap around it.

Other things are going on inside. Your testicles have withdrawn and have become your ovaries. Your uterus, fallopian tubes and vagina are already forming as we speak. I am so happy you are accepting this so well." "Me too, Gina. I about freaked at first but now it all feels so nice, so peaceful and I’m beginning to feel a new kind of power as a girl." "Yes, but you have to be carefull with that part. It can get you pregnant, OK?"

"And Charlie?" "Yes." "Think of a new name you like. Another one beginning with ‘Ch’ if you prefer. You aren’t really Charlie anymore and we’d rather you had a really feminine name, OK?" "That’s easy, Gina. I think Cheryl is a pretty name. How about that?" "Fine. Cheryl it is. When you wake up you will be Cheryl Lynn Adams. This and all your dreams have been monitored by the doctor. He knows exactly what we are talking about and when you wake up today, he will refer to you in your new name and advise the staff of the school. Your records will be changed. I think you are a week ahead of schedule. When you awake, you will only be 5'3 ½" tall and 110 pounds, your full adult height and weight. Enjoy your progress, Cheryl and welcome to the girls skating team." "Thanks, Gina. I hope I can make you all proud of me." And then I woke up to my shot, feeling much like I’d just done a half hour with an ab cruncher and yet somewhat euphoric.

"Well, how do we feel today, Cheryl?" "Just fine doctor." "Alright. Get your dress (I thought I had been wearing slacks!)on and what Gina told you?" "Yes?" "I planted that thought. You really are a week ahead of schedule. You have responded very well. I’m going to give you your permanent implants this Friday, which will dissolve after their work is done. That should be about another two weeks. By that time, your labia should be finished and your vagina should be fully functional." "Your new ovaries will produce all the estrogen you need. Does any of this alarm you?" "Why should it doctor. I’m a girl now aren’t I and I’m ever so much happier." "Almost Cheryl, almost."

Bonnie met me outside the office. She told me I had been moved into the girl’s dorm which certainly seemed appropriate and frankly, a relief. I knew the other boys realized what was happening to me and because of my therapy, I didn’t really care that much, but I still felt like they were staring at me, ogling even lately. "Well, here we are, room 106." "Who’s my new room mate, Bonnie?" "Gina." "Oh, that’s great. We get along really well." "You should. You were caste from the same mold." "Gina too?"

"Sure!" "And you are about the same size, so I’m sure we’re going to see you two in each other’s clothes. She has a couple really pretty long gowns I’m sure you are going to want to try on." "Yes Ma’am. I’ve been thinking about what I might look like at the prom with my hair piled high on my head, long dangle earrings, pearls, cleavage and pumps that actually make me 5'7" tall, & dancing with a hunk." "Be patient, Cheryl. That will all come. Don’t worry. By Friday, you will know everything we do about being a girl. Enjoy your new life, sister friend."

"You know Bonnie, I’m glad Charlie was a bad boy and a spoiled brat. He was such an arrogant bum. This is so much more fun. He never gave any thought to being a boy but I certainly do enjoy being a girl. Well, I have to set my hair and give myself a manicure. See you at dinner?" "Same old table. See you later, Cheryl."

Sure enough, in 15 days, Charlie was history and Cheryl was a fully developed young woman and loving every minute of it. She was now fertile. They left a vague memory of Charlie with her but implanted a true joy in being a woman. Parent’s weekend was coming up next week and her Dad would be visiting for sure. Early that Friday, she had an appointment at a beauty parlor for ‘the works.’ She was delighted with the soft and feminine style of her hair and they did a great job on her nails, now ½ inch beyond her finger tips. He had been given her room number and when he knocked, her heart skipped a beat. She had chosen a blue sheath dress with a tight scooped bodice, dangle earrings and matching high heels for their first meeting.

She opened the door and her father just stood there spellbound for a moment before uttering, "is that you Cheryl?" His heart also skipped a beat. "Yes Daddy, please come in and meet my roommate Gina." "Honey, you are a knockout and you have good taste in clothes too. I suppose you understand now why I had to sign a release to get you in here." "Oh, yes, Daddy and I am simply thrilled that you did. Charlie was a jerk and spoiled rotten. I love the car. Thank you. You’re welcome sweetheart."

To be continued?

 

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