This story is dedicated to Rori and Holly, who run the real Vaingirls. Thank you, ladies.

 

Vaingirls #1, Joyce's Story             by: Jezzi       © 2000

 

PROLOG

The ladies were there, as usual. Anytime the weather was halfway nice, the same three or four. They were on an ornately decorated balcony, two stories up, of an ornately decorated building - 1930’s Art Deco style with a smattering of incongruous ancient Egyptian influence, he guessed. Below the balcony were the windows and door of an establishment calling itself, by means of a gilt lettered sign and feminine script, simply "Vaingirls". An oval shield, approximately three feet in diameter, gold edged, containing a bright red lipstick in a gold case, flanked by the Red letters "V" and "G" hung in the middle of the balcony railing. There was a curved wrought iron staircase with a gilded railing from one end down to the sidewalk.

The ladies posed themselves, draped might be a better word, languidly, leaning on the railing or against the walls, watching the world go by. while they were all different and favored slightly different styles, all were extremely beautiful and leaned toward the chiffon and lace school of femininity, casual elegance. Hair all ribbons and tendrils, impeccably made up. They ran the gamut, blonde, redhead, brunette, and the most striking of all, a midnight-haired goddess, tall, a tall Elizabeth Taylor in her prime.

The young man looked at the ladies as he passed by, and only turned away when he could feel the twist in his neck that indicated he was past them. This time there was something different, something to indicate that his interest in the ladies over the past month had not gone unnoticed. The Goddess gave him what he later came to think of as "The Look". The Look pierced him, gave him the idea that this woman knew him intimately, to the depths. it was only a fleeting feeling, and then he was by them. Over the next 24 hours, he tried to convince himself that he’d been mistaken, but when he passed the balcony the next day, he found that he was the recipient of "The Look" from all of them, as they languidly turned and let their eyes rest on him. It was not a hurtful or particularly terrifying look, but a sizing-up look, an examining of potential; today it was followed by three lazy smiles and, almost in deliberate contrast, an almost feral smile of possessiveness from the black haired goddess. It was almost as though he had passed some kind of test, met some hidden set of criteria. He tentatively smiled back.

The four Vaingirls, Jessica, Elizabeth, Bethany, and Joyce, their black-haired leader, exchanged satisfied smiles. Another one, thought Joyce. Honey, have we got a dress for you!

Joyce pulled the red and gold front door of Vaingirls closed and locked it from the inside. Turning off all but the emergency lights, she turned and headed toward the back of the store. she felt a warm glow of satisfaction as she looked at the shimmer of satin and the glitter of rhinestones and sequins reflecting the emergency lights. passing through a romanesque arch into the back room, she grabbed her mug and filled it with steaming coffee from the ever-full pot. The mug was black with gold trim and had the Vaingirls VG lipstick logo on one side and "Joyce" in gold feminine script on the other. There was a rack on the wall holding perhaps twenty mugs just like it with different girls names on them. She plopped down in one of the two makeover chairs and took a sip of the coffee. Not very ladylike, I’m afraid, she thought, but then there’s nobody to see me and its been a long day. She sank further into the chair. Long and profitable! In more ways than one; she thought about the young man. He’ll be gorgeous. And he wants to be; she just doesn’t know it yet!

Vaingirls was a boutique and Transformation salon. To most of the citizens of Chicago, it catered to upscale ladies, selling prom, bridal, and other formal fashions, and providing makeovers for weddings and other events. To those in the know, it was a haven for the transgendered; a place for men who either wanted to look like or to actually become women. Everything needed to turn John into Jennifer, from stiletto heeled feet to tiara’d big hair, was available, along with Joyce, Elizabeth, Bethany, or the newest salon girl, Jessica to mother them through the transformation. Once transformed, the client could go "her" own way, take advantage of "field trips" organized by Vaingirls and led by one of the four to various TG friendly restaurants shops or clubs, or could simply relax in Vaingirls’ basement library/coffee bar/rec room. The truth was ninety percent of Vaingirls’ TG clients were male ninety-nine percent of the time and never left the store while enfemme. Only a very few intimates knew that of the four salon girls, only one, Joyce, was real.

What really made Vaingirls different from other Chicago area beauty establishments that offered transformations, was that Joyce, the owner, was a true believer. She believed that some men were indeed women trapped by an accident of the flesh. however, she believed that these, the true transsexuals, were relatively rare. Her passion was the belief that almost any man would become a better man if he could only be convinced - or, in some instances, made - to experience and enjoy the girl within himself. After the experience, a man might never dress enfemme again, or he might do so, as a crossdresser, from time to time, enjoying the best of both worlds, or he might become a she-male and live full time as a woman; the point was, he would be a much better person. While she tolerated the female to male transvestites, she could not understand them; why would a woman, who could have the best of both worlds, formal gown one day, jeans and a sweatshirt the next, for simple example, would want to limit herself so, she couldn’t say.

Pure masculinity was, she truly believed, evil. She had grown up in a household fueled by testosterone, the only girl among six men, her father and five brothers, her mother having died when she was four. Her mother had dressed her in lace and pretty dresses, but when she died, the lace and pretty dresses wore out or were outgrown and not replaced. she had, by necessity and her father’s wish, worn her brothers hand-me-downs. She had also, in self-defense, become a tomboy, as her father did not tolerate what he called "sissies" and made no distinctions between raising his sons and his daughter. To his credit, her father had never tried to abuse her, but she had seen and heard him abuse plenty of grown women, and had seen her brothers abuse their girlfriends. That she had been spared, she believed, was because she had become so successful at being "one of the boys." Every so often, though, as she did some particularly male task, dressed in male clothes, the memory of her mother, of them both in lace and dresses, would come upon her and a tear might trickle down her cheek. In the interest of self-preservation, such thoughts were shoved down and locked away, but they were never completely gone. As she reached her teens, it became increasingly hard to conceal the fact that she was definitely not one of the boys, and she was seriously considering running away, when the event that changed her life took place.

Joyce’s coffee grew cold in her cup on the table alongside the chair as she relived the memories.

It was her freshman year, and she was 14 years old. Her youngest brother, George, was an 18 year old senior. Of her other four brothers, one had graduated from high school, married a submissive little cheerleader, and was happily turning her into a baby factory in Akron, Ohio, where he sold insurance. The other three were in various universities on athletic scholarships. George had never been as big as his older brothers, nor as successful athletically; he made up for it in super-macho meanness, of which their father approved. It was her brothers’ meanness that had caused Joyce to accept the discipline needed to achieve a black belt. One throw across the room had been enough to keep George away from her.

As the winter holidays came on, though, Joyce began to notice changes, good changes from her point of view, in her brother’s behavior. He quit teasing her and actually behaved politely toward her. When, one evening, their father having left for his favorite tavern immediate following dinner, he actually, voluntarily, helped her clean up afterward, she knew she had to find out what was going on. As if it had been the most normal thing in the world, he had worn an apron the entire time!

Joyce determined to follow her brother to get to the bottom of his strange, but pleasant, behavior change, but, as it turned out, she didn’t have to. On Christmas Eve, several members of the cheerleading squad came by and dropped off gaily wrapped presents for George; again, their father was out. Peeking in from the other room, Joyce observed the girls standing in a circle around George, and her brother, her previously super-macho brother, was positively cringing! Charlene Whitney, the black haired leader of the squad, was speaking to him in what could only be interpreted as a commanding tone of voice. "Now Georgie" - No one EVER called her brother Georgie! Before, those would have been fighting words. - "remember, you must open these presents in front of your father and your sister. And..." threateningly "...we want them to know how very much you just adore them! Is that understood?"

Now her brother was whimpering, begging. "Oh, please, Miss Charlene, not my family, please!"

Charlene reached out and grabbed his chin, looking at him with a malicious grin "Hmm, defiance, is it? How would you like to take a little trip with us right now. My sister Jacqui’s salon is open, and there’s time for a perm. I know she’s just dying to get her hands on that gorgeous hair of yours. What do you think, girls? Curls in an updo with a rhinestone comb? And a blonde? Definitely a blonde!"

George looked terror stricken until one of the other girls, Sally Ann, came to his aid. "How about just his sister, Charlene? His dad is mean, and we don’t want that pretty face damaged, after all."

Charlene hesitated. "Would you agree to that, Georgie? Would that be acceptable? Would you be properly grateful?"

Totally fascinated, Joyce couldn’t tear her eyes away. George was like a condemned man suddenly granted a reprieve. "Oh yes, thank you, Miss Charlene, thank you, thank you!"

"Very well," Charlene couldn’t keep the note of triumph out of her voice, "BUT..." George cringed again "...your father’s going out of town in two days right? Wednesday evening?" George nodded "To show your gratitude, you will voluntarily accompany us to my sister’s salon for whatever gifts we may choose to bestow upon you. And you will be HAPPY to do so, won’t you? And you will ENJOY YOURSELF and act just like our little airhead sissy that you are, right, princess?"

SISSY!!!???

George nodded in abject submission, almost in tears.

"Now Sissy Georgie, is that any way to thank us? George’s "friend", Sally Ann, chimed in. "You’d think we were torturing you instead of planning nice things for you that any sissy would squeal in delight over. In fact, when you open these gifts in front of your sister, we want to hear some squeals of delight, don’t we girls?" The other pretty heads bobbed in agreement.

"Make sure you turn your little tape recorder on right at the start." said Charlene, taking charge again. Meredith is going upstairs right now to set up the mini-cam in your bedroom. Turning on the recorder will turn it on as well. Remember positioning, we want to see pretty you, dear, but we also want to see your sister’s reaction. We have bets going as to whether she’ll be horrified or delighted."

With Meredeth’s approach to the stairway, Joyce ducked back into the under-the-stairs closet and missed the closing act of the drama, but she had plenty to think about. Whatever the girls had on her brother ought to be dynamite, she thought. Christmas day should be very, very, VERY interesting.

The Christmas presents opened that Christmas morning had been expected. Their Dad had given George and Joyce identical Chicago Bulls jackets. Joyce had received a new pair of running shoes, boys style she noted, while George had received a new set of Thrush mufflers for his car. George and Joyce had gone together to buy him a bottle of Seagams top-of-the-line Crown Royal; he never questioned the fact that neither of them was old enough to buy liquor legally. There was a method to their madness, and things worked out as expected. Their dad moved into the TV room, turned on a ball game, and was snoring lustily by noon; the bottle was a quarter empty. Then things got interesting.

"George?" suggested Joyce brightly, after they had ascertained that their father was going to most likely sleep the day away, "Why don’t we clean up the house for Dad?" George had never so much as lifted a broom to do housework before the evening he helped her clean up after dinner.

Instead of the usual snarl such a request would have brought in the past, George looked thoughtfully (and a bit fearfully, she thought.) at her. "Uh, sure, sis." In an agreeable tone of voice "What would you like me to do?"

This was going to be even better than she had thought. He was voluntarily, without giving it a thought, putting her in charge! She decided to push the envelope a bit. "Why don’t you pick up in here and then dust and vacuum, while I do the kitchen." Then she threw out the line. "Be sure to wear your apron. You don’t want to get your nice clothes dirty." She brought it out from behind her back and held it out to him. He looked at her strangely but slipped his arms through the shoulder straps docilely enough. "Here, turn around and I’ll tie it for you." She tied it in a nice big bow. "There, now you’ll look sweet and stay clean too." Not a peep! she thought, interestinger and more interestinger! She turned and went into the kitchen to do her part.

It took her about an hour to clean up the kitchen, and as she worked she could hear George in the living room. At the half hour mark, she heard the sound of vacuuming, which lasted for about fifteen minutes. After five minutes of silence, she peeked out the door. Her brother was sitting on the couch, apron still on, head in his hands, shaking. As she watched, he lifted his head and looked at the front door, as if considering; then he gave it a "no" shake and dropped it back into his hands. Wondering how he’s going to go through with what he’s been ordered to do she thought. I could have some fun with this! But then she reflected that she liked the way her brother had been this last week. He’d actually acted human toward her - more than that, he’d acted nice! Maybe she ought to encourage him, she thought, not humiliate him. The cheerleaders certainly seemed to be doing enough of that. Making her decision, she walked into the livingroom. Let’s see what develops, she thought. she had a pretty good idea of what kind of things were in those packages he had to show her. "What’s up, bro?" she said.

George looked up nervously. "Whadayathink, sis?" he indicated the room with a sweep of his arm. It was tidy and spotless.

"Great job! Thanks for helping. Guess we can relax now; Dad’ll be out for hours yet."

"Uh, sis, uhm I uh have a few more presents I didn’t want to open in front of Dad. They’re up in my room. Wanna come up and open ‘em with me? You and I don’t do enough stuff together, and with Al, John, Mike, and Earl gone, and Dad the way he is, all we’ve got is each other."

He really sounded sincere on that last part! Nice is definitely the way to go. "Sure, George. Who gave them to you?"

"Oh, just some of the cheerleaders." he said, as he started for the stairs.

Following him, Joyce could sense the tension. At the top step he whirled around to face her, causing her to flinch back a bit and start into a defensive posture. "I deserve that." he said bitterly. "Look, sis, just sit down here for a minute." Joyce sat on the step below him. "What’s going to happen when we get to my room is going to be humiliating to me. I can’t tell you ahead of time what it is, because your reaction has to be genuine or they - " at her raised eyebrows he gave a bitter little laugh "Charlene Whitney and her crew - won’t buy it. Without going into details, what they’ve done to me and made me do has made me realize that I deserve what I’m going through. I’ve been a macho shithead jerk to you, just like my brothers, and I was to those girls too, which is why all this is happening to me. I just want to tell you I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you all these years, and I won’t blame you if you want to join them after you see what’s in the packages and how I behave; it’ll be how they told me to behave." With that, he got up and started for his door. as he went in, he reached behind the dresser and pressed on something. his whole demeanor changed - to exaggerated femmey swish!

"Oh, Joyce!", he squealed

Her brother actually squealed??? Well, they told him to She acted surprised and gave him a "What’s gotten into you?" look.

"I am SO glad you’re here to open these packages from my girlfriends with me, sis. I just know there are going to be some yummy things in them!

Hands on her hips. I can act, too, bro!. "What the HELL has gotten into you?"

He pouted. "Oh Joycie, you can be such a BITCH! Be nice; it’s Christmas...Please??

She plopped on the bed, quartered to where she knew the camera was so it could catch both her and George. One less thing for him to worry about - OK, bro; let’s give ‘em a good show! "Ok, Ok, open one, whydon’tcha."

George skipped over, closed his eyes and picked a package from the pile. With a smile on his face he returned to the bed with it and sat next to her, curling his legs under him in girl fashion. he carefully removed the paper. "This paper is so pretty I can’t bare to rip it up." He smoothed the paper out and laid it on the bed. Then he opened the box. Inside was a complete set of manicure tools, and some nail strengthener, ridge filler base coat, clear top coat polish, and, the piece de resistance, a bottle of "Love That Pink" polish. There was also an instruction book and a note on a piece of pink stationary. Joyce could see her brother’s smile falter for a second, but he managed to quickly put it back in place.

"Kind of a femmey gift, isn’t it? She asked with raised eyebrows. "What’s the note say?"

"Georgie, Sweetie," he started reading in an overly cheerful voice. "I noticed the other day that your nails are such a mess. I know it’s just because you didn’t have any good friends to point it out to you before. Can’t wait to see how they look when you’ve used the materials in this kit - ALL the materials. Maybe your sister can help you. Hugs, your friend, Meredith" His voice had faltered on the "ALL the materials" but he had finished back in character. He held his hands out in front of him , nails spread, the way a girl would do. "You know, sis, I really never did notice before, but they are just terrible. Meredith is such a sweetie; her nails are always so pretty. You will help me, won’t you? Please?"

Joyce responded in a shocked tone that was only partially acting. "You, my macho brother, you’re going to do your nails? And you want ME to help? Are they making you do this, got something on you?"

"Oh, no, sis. it’s just that, well, the girls have been so nice and they help me to see parts of myself I never knew were in me before. And..." here an actual giggle "...I’m having so much fun! Please say you’ll help?"

"Well, you know I’m not really into that stuff." Joyce looked at her own nails, but with her palm turned toward her, nails in palm, like a boy would. "Hell, my own nails aren’t much better than yours...."

"We could do them together; help each other!"

"And what’s dad gonna say? if he doesn’t like me doing stuff like this, he’s gonna kick YOUR butt into next Saturday." This was a real question, and one that Joyce thought needed a real answer, because their dad WOULD kill him...and probably beat her to a pulp also.

"We’ll do it right away, and then you can come with me over to Meredith’s house to show her. Before dad wakes up. We can take the polish off over there. Please?" George pleaded.

If she’ll let you thought Joyce. She said, "Well, OK; I kinda would like to see how my nails look too...but shouldn’t we open the other two packages first?"

"Ooh, I was so excited I almost forgot!" George picked up the two remaining packages and returned to the bed. just as carefully as he had the first one, he opened the larger of the two. Whatever was inside was wrapped in white tissue. When George pulled the tissue aside, Joyce caught a glimpse of pink, but that was all because George jumped up and then up and down in feigned excitement. "Ooh, I knew it; I knew it; I knew it!" another squeal "Isn’t it just darling?" IT was a short sleeved angora sweater, pink. He held it against his chest and shivered in apparent delight.

He’s delighted my ass! Joyce thought, but "Just adorable. ..." was her spoken sarcastic response. He oughta win the Academy Award for this! "...Is there a note with this one?"

George rummaged around in the box and pulled out another piece of the pink stationary. "Georgiekins," he read. "I saw you admiring my Angora sweater last week, and I knew you’d love to have one just like it for yourself. You will look so cute; I can’t wait to see you in it! I bet we look like twins. Meredith and I will be at Charlene’s Christmas day afternoon, do wear it over and model it for us. Huggies, Sally Ann." He jumped up and started to reach for the telephone. Oh, I must call Charlene right now; I can’t wait another minute!"

Shaking her head in wonder, Joyce indicated the remaining package. "One more, first."

"Ooh, yes," sighed George, returning to the bed, "I forgot, I was so excited. this one must be from Charlene!" Having some idea of what was in this package, it was hard for him to keep up the act, but he managed to keep the smile on his face as he opened the box. It had the Victoria’s Secret logo on it. Oh no! he thought cringing inwardly, not this; it can’t be this? It was. Inside was a pink Second Skin Satin bra, with the by now expected piece of pink stationary.

"Georgie, dear," he read. It took all his willpower to keep up the act. "Sally Ann showed me the adorable sweater she bought you. I know you will look just dreamy, but I knew it needed something extra. Now you’ll feel pretty underneath as well as look pretty outwardly. I added something so you’ll feel sexy bottom as well as top. can’t wait to see you, Kiss Kiss, Charlene." Sure enough, when he lifted up the bra, matching full cut satin panties with lace trim were underneath. both shimmered in the light as the satin slid through his hands.

This time Joyce’s reaction was not faked. "My Gawd, George! You’re not actually going to wear a bra are you? And panties?" Then she was back in the Act. "Why are you doing this? Are you really a sissy and enjoy this, or do those girls have something on you? Where is my jock brother?!" Then pensively, "Although, you HAVE been a lot nicer person these last couple of weeks; maybe what’s happening isn’t so bad." And then, as if coming to a decision, "Let’s not call Charlene; let’s surprise her. Come on, let’s go to my room and do our nails .... sis."

George got up and followed his sister out. Once in the hallway, out of camera and microphone range, He staggered and almost collapsed. Joyce caught him and led him into her room. She could tell he was on the verge of tears, so she went to get a couple of Cokes to give him time to haul himself back together. While getting the cokes, she shook her head in amazement. This certainly was a change in her macho asshole brother. And, as far as she could see, a change greatly for the better. How can I keep my new nice brother, and somehow keep him from being further humiliated? She wondered. Joyce didn’t think much of cheerleaders, and she doubted that the three would stop with punishment to fit whatever crime her brother had committed against them. While she hoped she was wrong, she believed they would simply continue to abuse and humiliate him till he was totally ruined in their town. As she entered her bedroom, she could see that George, while not by any means a happy camper, had gotten control of his emotions, and was sitting quietly on her bed. Silently she handed him a coke.

"Well, sis, are you thoroughly repulsed by your sissy brother?" He asked, head down, in a voice that expected a "Yes" answer.

"I think you’d better tell me exactly what you did to cause them to do this to you, and what they have over you to make you go along with this." she replied, sitting next to him.

"It’s not any one super bad thing. I didn’t rape any of them or hit any of them. Bad as Dad is in some respects, you know he taught us better than that." He shook his head. "I was dating Charlene, when Meredith hit on me. I was flattered so I started to date her too, lying to Charlene. Then it mushroomed on me. Pretty soon I was romancing the whole squad. Since I was spread so thin, I was pretty obnoxious to each one. It was only a matter of time till they found out. I can see that now, but at the time I thought myself stud muffin invincible. One night Charlene and I were at her house, and she handed me a beer. She’d never done that before, and I thought Hot Damn and chugged half the bottle. almost immediately, I started feeling dizzy. I knew the game was up when right before I passed out, I saw them all enter the room. I woke up in my car, with nothing apparently different. On the seat next to me was a note on top of a packet of photos. It read: ‘Georgie, darling. Your keys are on the park bench under the Oak tree about fifty feet from the car. When you feel well enough, go get them. Wouldn’t want you driving under the influence now, would we? Take a look at the fab pics we took last night. you were such a riot, and we had so much fun. Probably don’t remember it at all do you, though, poor dear. Come to my house tomorrow night at 6:00pm. I wouldn’t keep us waiting, if I were you; that, of course, is not the only set of pics. Love you, sweetie; we are going to have SO much fun ... well, we girls will anyway. Charlene.’ There were two sets of pics. The first set of pics showed me dressed as a girl, a French maid to be exact, in a number of revealing poses doing humiliating things. I was not wearing makeup or a wig, so it was clear it was me, they had seen to that. As humiliating as the first set was, the next set was dangerous, because it showed me, fully male, abusing the girls - stuff that could send me to jail. I looked at myself in the car mirror. I appeared normal, dressed in the clothes I had worn to Charlene’s the night before. I didn’t remember a thing, still don’t. It wasn’t till I got home and undressed that the reality of what happened hit me. When I removed my socks to take a shower, I saw my toes had been painted a bright red. I, of course, kept the appointment with Charlene and company, and they’ve been making me there ever more sissified slave boy ever since. With these presents, though, there’s no doubt they are escalating things. They wanted me to open them in front of you and DAD! To avoid that I had to agree to the little scene we just acted out, and I had to agree to go to Charlene’s sister’s beauty salon tomorrow and act happy about whatever they are going to have done to me. I think they are going to make sure that everyone thinks I’m a such a femmey sissy boy no girl will want to date me again. And you know what the worst thing is, sis? I deserve it!" He really did start to cry at that point.

Joyce considered her words carefully. "I don’t think you do; at least you don’t deserve any more of it, and, if you’re right, certainly not what they have planned. We need to find out more, and I think that can be done best if they think I’m in agreement with them. I’ve got sort of a plan. Let’s get started on our nails, and I’ll tell you, see what you think.

Surprised, George asked, "OUR nails? You’re really gonna do yours, too?

Joyce responded seriously. "George, look at me. I’m a girl who’s been forced to be butch, just like you’re being forced to be femme, only dad’s been doing it to me for TEN YEARS, ever since Mom died. For me, doing my nails WILL be fun! Now here’s the plan..."

Later that afternoon, cars that might have traveled down the street on which Charlene’s house was located found themselves detoured to other streets.

Joyce, with a very nervous and embarrassed George in the seat next to her, drove the three blocks to Charlene’s street, around the detour sign, zipped into an ally about a block from her house, and parked. "I can’t get any closer." she told him. "You have to look like you walked the whole way."

It was easy to see why George was embarrassed. His nails were done in "Love That Pink" AND extended 3/8 inch beyond his fingertips. He was wearing the panties, bra, and sweater, but the sweater made clear that the bra held ... something, not a lot, just a hint, but enough to be noticeable. As if that wasn’t enough, his hair was in the usual ponytail, but it was gathered high on the back of his head instead of at the nape, secured with a pink scrunchie matching the sweater, and had obviously seen the use of a curling iron. His face, though, was devoid of makeup and was clearly recognizable as HIS face. He was also wearing what were clearly boys slacks and shoes. They walked up the steps to Charlene’s front door and rang the bell.

The walk had had the desired effect, and George’s face was flushed, as if he were wearing blush. Charlene opened the door, looked at George, did a double take and looked again, then looked at Joyce, who had a big grin on her face. She turned her head and called into the house, "Girls, come here. You’ve got to see this. Right away!" She turned back to George. "Well, Georgie, I see your wearing our gifts, and have even added some extras. How nice. You look just adorable." By this time Meredith and Sally Ann had come up and were peering over Charlene’s shoulders, big grins appearing on their faces as well.

"Oh, Georgie, Charlene’s right; you look just yummy!" from Meredith

"And you liked my sweater so much that you didn’t wear a coat, wanted to show it off?" chimed in Sally Ann. "How sweet. But what’s happened to your chest?" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "You just can’t wait to grow up, is that it? Why how precious! Well, I think they look just scrumptious! Come give us a kiss."

"Yes, do." commanded Charlene in the mock friendly voice they were all using. And the tree girls all turned their cheeks toward him.

An embarrassed George hung his head and hesitated. "Georgie!" said Joyce sharply. "The girls have complimented you nicely and here you are acting embarrassed? They might think you don’t appreciate what they’ve done for you!

A look of fear flashed for a fraction of a second in George’s eyes, and a look of respect aimed at Joyce came from the three girls. George quickly smiled prettily and gave an air kiss kiss to each girls cheek as he entered Charlene’s house.

"Georgie, why don’t you go up to my bedroom. There’s the newest Cosmo up there, and feel free to experiment with any thing you find on my dressing table if you like." Said Charlene in a tone that indicated that he’d better like! "We want to get to know your sister; she seems like she’ll fit right into our little sorority."

"Oh, yes, Charlene." - Here a fearful glance at his sister - "Joyce is just the sweetest sister a boy like me could have. It was she who suggested that this beautiful sweater - Thank you ever so much, Sally Ann; I just adore it - just wasn’t being done justice by natural skinny me, and that perhaps we should help nature just a bit. and Oh, Charlene, the bra is gorgeous, but the cups just were aching to have a little something in them that I just couldn’t provide, so sis found some old foam pads of our mom’s and we stuffed just a bit, and now I feel ever so much prettier!" As George gushed on, he shot a nervous glance at Joyce and saw her giving just the barest smile and nod of approval, both of which were not lost on the three cheerleaders. "And do you like my hair? Sis suggested it would have such a nice sway to it when I walked if I gathered it up higher on the back of my head, and see how the ribbon just matches the sweater! And then the little minx snuck up on me with her curling iron!" And Meredith, Sis suggested that all the beautiful things in the manicure set you gave me would be wasted on my nubby nails, so she super-glued on some false ones and we did them with the kit. I hope you don’t mind - and you and Sally Ann must have had your heads together, or how else did you find polish that exactly matched the sweater? You can’t see, but we did my toes, too. Oh, thank you girls, for these wonderful presents!" Another quick am I doing this right glance at Joyce, and George actually squealed. "Oh, I love them.!" Oh, and Joyce helped me pick out presents for each of you! She has them. Please don’t open them without me!"

"Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it, Georgie. Off with you now." As George went up the stairs, Charlene turned to Joyce. "Well, Joyce," exclaimed Charlene in a guardedly friendly and respectful tone, "You certainly seem to have gotten into the spirit of helping our little Georgie here express this new side of "him"self. And with enchanting results! Hasn’t she girls?"

Meredith and Sally Ann couldn’t contain themselves any longer. They burst out in fits of laughter. "Oh, yes!" gasped Meredith "He’s even more swishy and femmy than we even considered!

"He actually let you stuff his bra?" giggled Sally Ann.

"Well, no, actually." remarked Joyce. "He balked somewhat at that, had to flip him over my knee and redden his bottom a bit. Then made him get the forms out of the drawer and insert them himself, smiling like he really was enjoying himself the whole time." Here she took a Polaroid of the just described scene out of her purse and handed it to Charlene who passed it around. "Got some real nice pics. Too bad I couldn’t figure how to get one of him over my knee."

There was no longer any pretense among the three cheerleaders of nonchalance. Even Charlene was looking at Joyce in awe.

"How...."

"I’m a black belt. self-defense. Came in handy"

Charlene visibly pulled herself together. "More to the point, why?"

" Watch me." Joyce turned, walked out the front door, down the steps and out to the curb, turned and came back. "If you didn’t know I was a girl, would you think I was one?"

"Well, since you bring it up, no." answered Sally Ann

"Yeah" said Meredith. "You walk and act like a boy. A regular guy, not femmy like Georgie is now either"

"My mother died when I was four. My Dad hates anything feminine. I was raised like a boy, but I’m girl-sized. I’ve had to learn the hard way how to survive. My five brothers were praised for being macho shithead assholes. The older four got away with murder because they were superjocks, and I was too young to fight back; I pretty much had to put up with it. They’re all gone now and I never got a chance to get even. George was the same way, but he’s smaller, more like me and my mom, and I had my black belt by the time he started getting really obnoxious, so he left me alone pretty much. But I heard stories about him and other girls, how he was treating them worse than the older four, maybe to prove he was as macho as his brothers despite the size difference. Then, about a month ago, his whole attitude changed. He started treating me nice and helping with the housework when dad wasn’t around. He even started wearing an apron, and when I teased him about it. He didn’t react nasty like usual, but blushed and said he just didn’t want to get his clothes dirty. I decided to push the envelope. I started talking girl talk to him, about how long and pretty his hair was getting, stuff like that. He took it, and didn’t try to get back at me. I wondered why the change. Then he showed me your Christmas presents. I decided you guys must really have the goods on him ‘cause there’s no way in hell he would act like he did normally! There was nothing I could do about my four older brothers, but I figured I could get in on your program. I "encouraged" him to go beyond what you asked for and take my "suggestions" to show you I’m serious. He’s family, but I’ve got a lot of pent up hostility to work out and making poor Georgie into the femmy Sissy of the Month would take care of a lot of it. I don’t know how far you girls want to carry this, but I’d like all the girls he’s acted like an asshole with to see the new Sissy Georgie!"

"Welcome to the club, sis!" exclaimed a completely taken in Charlene. "That’s just about what we had in mind. Have any suggestions?"

Bingo! thought Joyce. "I think so, but why don’t you tell me what you three have planned for him next. He gushed something about a salon visit?

Charlene told Joyce about the salon visit, which Joyce, of course, already knew about.

"Ok, here’s what I think." And Joyce launched into the story that she and George had agreed upon.

Later, in the car on the way home, Joyce explained to George who, sans sweater and bra, and with his hair in male tail mode was looking much more himself. "I’m sure they bought the whole ball of wax and think I’m really one of them. They are going to go along with the plan we set up. You’ll be allowed to go to the salon by yourself, and not this Wednesday, but on the day of the Valentines Dance, six weeks from now. You’ll be told only that you have to wear girls’ undergarments and clothes, and have your hair, makeup, and nails done. Then you’ll have to go to the dance. They will provide you with the undergarments, there will be a padded panty girdle, but the bra will be unstuffed. You will have to buy the outer clothes. I led them to believe that you would take advantage of every loophole they’ve left you to look as masculine as possible - androgynous hair, very pale pink polish and lipstick, slacks, girls loafers plain white blouse. I told them you would convince yourself you looked like a boy, that no one would really notice that they were girls clothes or that you were wearing makeup. In reality, with the perm curl to your hair and the walk resulting from the padded brief, everyone would notice and figure you had just become a femmy little sissy - and that’s what they want, so no girl will want to go out with you again. They are also going to bring in this huge gay guy to put the moves on you. They figure that any resistance you put up will be interpreted by the crowd as an act. I also got them to agree that you don’t have to act femmy at school, just be nice, polite and respectful, especially to the girls. And hang with the girls. Then everyone will wonder about your changed behavior. They are going to tell you this and pass it off as their being nice and letting up on you, but they really think everyone will wonder and then the femmy look and walk, etc. at the dance will cause them to think Oh, so that’s why! They plan to get a lot of pleasure out of watching you come to the realization of what’s been done to you - what you in fact have done to yourself. Unfortunately, you’ll still have to be their femme toy after school and I have to play along. I’ll be able to help you keep Dad from finding out, though; I think that’ll be the toughest thing."

"It’s a good thing I’m leaving town as soon as this is over; he WILL kill me if he finds out." sighed George. "I feel bad saying it, but I won’t miss Dad." He turned the discussion back to Joyce’s’ negotiations with Charlene. "Still, it seems things went about as good as we hoped. I would be polite and respectful to the girls anyway; if nothing else, what Charlene and company have done has made me see what an asshole I’ve been, and I won’t be one anymore. Still, I don’t see how all this will help me. Will you tell me now the part of your plan that’s going to get me out of this?"

Joyce girded herself mentally. Here goes! she thought. She really believed, no, she KNEW, that her plan would both save her brother and, in the long run, make a better person out of him. "There IS no way out for George", she said firmly, "but there may be for Georgie." And as she outlined the rest of her plan, she watched her brother’s body language first indicate shock, then defiance, followed by despair, and finally settle into acceptance.

On the morning of the dance, with Charlene’s last words of "...and you’d better follow our rules or else we distribute copies of the tapes and pics to everyone, including the district attorney!" ringing in his ears, George set out for Charlene’s sister Jacqui’s salon. He was George - his oldest boy’s jeans and a ragged Chicago Bulls sweatshirt ( He wouldn’t need those clothes after this morning.) no makeup or nails, hair in a male tail and carrying the undergarments given him by the girls in a paper bag. They also would be discarded, but in this case, for even prettier ones. A U-haul with all his personal belongings in it was waiting behind the school. Joyce had found an apartment and lined up a job in Cincinnati that started Monday.

He remembered what Joyce had found out about Jacqui. Jacqui, being five years older than George, had had no real contact with him and so had no personal score to settle with him, although she had gone to school with his brothers and thought They were assholes. When Joyce had approached Jacqui and told her the severity of what the girls planned and to what degree George had already rehabilitated himself, she was ready to listen. She confided to Joyce that when she had told Charlene that she couldn’t wait to get her hands on George’s hair and face, it wasn’t out of a desire for revenge, but because Jacqui loved a challenge. she wanted to see how feminine she could make George, an average male, look. Charlene had led her to believe that George was a crossdresser, and would be a willing participant. Joyce had outlined her plan, Jacqui had agreed, and the two girls, who became fast friends, had spent the ensuing weeks before George’s visit, planning and shopping for it. Jacqui told Joyce that while Charlene could be a real bitch, she thought that her sister and her friends were basically nice girls, and that she believed the plan would work. For her reformed brother’s sake, Joyce hoped she was right.

It was felt that it would be too dangerous for George and Jacqui to really meet ahead of time as Charlene might find out and smell a rat, but the two had communicated by e-mail and exchanged pictures. (Jacqui wanted a pic of the pre-Charlene George so she could plan ahead, and George had demanded one of her, so he could see in whose hands his future lay.) From their electronic communications, and with Joyce’s wholehearted reccomendation, George believed he could trust Jacqui. While was in the dark as to the specifics of what the two girls had prepared, he knew the general plan, and knew, as he walked through Jacqui’s salon door, that it would not be George who walked out.

"Hi Jacqui; I’m Georg ... ie. Do your worst!"

Jacqui looked at the nervous young man before her, but saw the beautiful young woman he -no, she - could become. I have to think of him as her if this is to work she thought, and so does he. That she had deliberately switched from George to Georgie when introducing herself was a positive sign, Jacqui thought, but the attitude that this makeover to young lady was the lesser of two evils would have to go. Georgie had to want this, to delight in it, or she’d never be able to pull off the rest of the plan. "Georgie, honey", she exclaimed cheerily, "we’ve got six hours to turn you into the belle of the ball, and I am going to give you the pampering of your life. When you leave here you are going to feel so good that the first thing you’ll do when you hit Cincinnati is make an appointment with a local salon for another makeover day!"

Georgie looked Jacqui right in the eyes. "Jacqui, I need the truth. Can you really make me look like a beautiful young lady and not just a femmy sissy boy. I have to know if this will be all worth it."

Jacqui tried to put all the sincerity she could muster into her voice and body language. "Truthfully, honey, You’re a little tall, and a little heavy for the norm, your never going to be able to shop in the junior stores and no one will ever refer to you as petite. But your feet aren’t too big, you have androgynous features, and most women would kill for beautiful hair and eyelashes like yours. Yes, I can make you LOOK like a beautiful young lady. Really, though, to do what needs to be done, to convince the crowd that this is what you want for yourself, that you’re grateful to Charlene and her crew for helping you toward that goal, YOU have to BE a beautiful young lady. If you can do that, if you can BE that lovely lady inside you, then Charlene and her friends really have done you a favor; what they’ve made you do has given you the feminine voice and mannerisms to be physically convincing. Use that lovely lady, that feminine spirit, to bring the body to life! Start now. This is going to be FUN. Revel in it, enjoy it! Are you ready?" And she turned toward the back of the salon, the inner sanctum of femininity, with her arm cocked at her side so "she" could link with it, and waited.

George felt it. Georgie was there inside him/her. All beautiful pastel colors, welling up, enveloping him. Oh, hell’ she thought, let’s get gorgeous! With a big smile on her face, Georgie linked arms with Jacqui: "Let’s go make me beautiful, Sweets" she said gaily, leading the way toward her new life. And George settled himself into his mental armchair and prepared to just go along for the ride!

With a big sigh of relief, Joyce stepped out of the supply closet from which, through the slightly open door, she had been watching with baited breath. This WAS going to work. She fished her car keys out of her purse and left the salon. She would wait at the school for her first glimpse of her new sister.

Georgie gazed at all the equipment and supplies filling every nook and cranny of Jacqui’s back room, all designed to pamper and beautify a girl, whether she was biologically one or not. Then Jacqui opened the next door, the door to the clothing boutique. All Georgie could think of was that this must be like what Howard Carter felt as he gazed for the first time into the tomb of Tutankhamen, and when asked what he saw, said "Things. Wonderful things!" Whe-e-e-e-e! she thought, as Jacqui descended upon her and the process began:

Bare minimum: Not too embarrassing; she’d had to strip before Charlene and crew. But tuck? Tuck was new; the girls had wanted his "bulge" to be visible. Jacqui knew what to do, and made it as painless as possible. Now where did she learn to do that she wondered. Now where did IT go? he wondered.

Shave and a wax job, two bits: ("Let’s get all the pain out of the way first, dear.") "OUCH!" But being smooth and hairless from the nose down felt kind of good, albeit a little chilly. Plucked, the eyebrows looked really nice, and, pierced, ear potential increased dramatically. She added earring shopping to her "to do" list.

Hair today ... gone tomorrow??: Washed, highlighted , rolled, permed, combed out, pinned up, sprayed, and highlighted by rhinestone combs. Wow, did having someone mess with your head ever feel good! Curls piled, ringlets softly framing: just like out of a Jane Austin novel! she thought, Cool!

Nailed! Toe and finger. She loved them. Deep shiny pink acrylic, with silver glitter. But she heard the tiny voice from the virtual armchair: How ya gonna change the oil in the Buick with those?

The eyes have it: The makeup felt good, smelt good, looked good... Lipstick last; she deliberately did that herself. (*Just like she’s been doing it all her life.* thought Jacqui) The lipstick tasted good, too! She looked in the mirror for the first time. Gorgeous! From the neck up. Still male downward, albeit hairless. Time for Phase Two.

Butt and Boobs and Hips, oh, my: ("No, dear, you can’t be a double "D" cup; that’s George thinking for you.") A CORSET???? "Jacqui, you BITCH!" Hmmmmmm, but I do look GOOD!

Dress for success: Length, cleavage CLEAVAGE! color, style, material, accessories. What’s a girl to do?? George, in his virtual armchair, picked up the virtual sports section and bowed out early; Georgie and Jacqui were having FUN!

Jacqui, having exhausted two whole rolls of film in a marathon photo opportunity and extracted promises of letters from Cincinnati, finally pronounced Georgie as ready as she ever would be. She watched from the door as she opened the door of her car, sat down sideways, tucking the skirt of her dress under her, and gracefully swiveled her legs into the interior, every inch a lady. Jacqui waved and turned back into the salon; Georgie would do just fine.

On the way to the school, as Georgie drove, George still in his mental armchair reviewed the plans for after the dance. Georgie would leave as soon as possible... (*Think again, drabbie; I’m going to have FUN!* interjected Georgie.) ...leave when she wanted to, amended George, bowing to the inevitable. The transition back to him would take place in the back of the U-haul while Joyce drove. Cincinatti here I come! (Georgie was on the point of interjecting another mental comment, when she thought better of it; she needed George calm and relaxed in his armchair for the rest of the evening.) When his father returned home later in the day, he would find the letter explaining that he, George, had gotten a great job offer to work on an oil rig off the Texas coast - a suitably masculine job - and he had to leave immediately, so as not to miss the opportunity. He would write. - He wouldn’t, but he doubted that it would bother his father much. None of his brothers ever wrote, and he knew his dad just made up stories about them to tell his beer buddies. If his dad felt bad because of the lack of contact, he never let on.

George put his thoughts on hold, because Georgie was pulling into the school parking lot, looking for Joyce and their dad’s car. Georgie needed to be 100% Georgie for the next several hours. Sliding lower into the virtual armchair, he decided to take a nap; she would wake him when it was time to leave and it was HIS turn.

Joyce was standing by her dad’s car anxiously waiting. She was dying to see the finished product! There was George’s car now, pulling up alongside. Through the open right side window came a soft feminine voice, "Close your eyes, sis." She did so, and listened as the car door opened and the owner of the voice got out. She could hear the sound of high heels clicking. by the enchanting smell of "Lady" perfume, she could tell that the person was very close to her. "Open ‘em up, sis."

"OHMYGAWD!" Joyce stared wide-eyed at the vision before her. "George?"

"No. It’s GEORGIE, honey. You like?" as she did a twirl.

Georgie’s hair was newly honey blonde with highlights and pulled up into a mass of curls at the back, secured by peral accented combs; wisps of bangs caressed her forehead, while curled tendrils brushed her cheeks and neck. Her makeup was flawless. The high arched brows gave her a wide-eyed innocent look enhanced by long fluttery lashes and the subtle shading of her eye shadow. Her cheeks had just a hint of blush. Her lips were pink to match her nails. pearl drops hung from her pierced ears. Her white dress had filmy chiffon cap sleeves and a deep V neck to show a hint of cleavage that was accented by a pearl necklace with a pearl drop poised right above it. It fit tightly from bodice (After negotiation, George and Georgie had compromised on "C" cup.) over nicely flaring hips to just above the knees, where a spray of white chiffon fell to a three foot diameter circle that just brushed the floor. Pink above-the-elbow length fingerless lace gloves with wrists circled by peral bracelets and three inch narrow heels of the same color completed the outfit. She was a vision of loveliness; innocence on the brink of womanhood, just the look Joyce and Jacqui had been going for. Joyce threw her arms around Georgie. "Oh, yes, sis. Oh, yes, I like very, very much!"

Arm in arm, both girls walked from the parking lot, up the stairs, and through the front doors of the school. George, in his virtual armchair, slumbered on. Georgie threw a virtual comforter over him and forgot about him.*This is it, girl, the Big Show, and the curtain’s going up.

Joyce opened the door to the gym. To the appropriate sound of The Kinks singing "Lola", they made there entrance.

Charlene, Meredith, and Sally Ann stood by the bandstand, and all three were dressed to kill. Charlene was wearing a red silk sleeveless sheath dress reaching to mid thigh. black glitter tights ended in four inch heeled "FM" red pumps. Rhinestones glittered at her ears, neck, and wrists. Her black hair cascaded in soft waves to the middle of her back. Meredith and Sally Ann, both brunettes, had chosen blue as their color; fortunately, their dresses were different enough in style that, while mildly annoyed at the similarity of color, they were not at each others throats.

"Where’s Georgie?" asked Sally Ann. "Shouldn’t ‘she’ be here by now?"

"Oh, I don’t think it’ll be ‘she’", chuckled Meredith, "or ‘he’. I really think ‘it’ will be the appropriate pronoun, don’t you think, Charlene?"

"Probably," answered Charlene. "I think we’ll know if he comes in thinking he’s really put one over on us. he’ll be walkin’ tall, won’t have a clue how femmy he really looks. That’s when we sic Ray, over there on him." She gestured in the direction of a huge 6’6" boy in a black leather sleeveless shirt and tight black leather pants. Ray had been "purchased" for the evening, and had been instructed as to what to do to the person pointed out by Charlene. "You know, I almost hope George does the unexpected. He’s done everything we’ve made him do, And from what Joyce says, he really has changed his ways. I know the plan was to really humiliate him tonight, but if he really has changed, I hate to do it."

"You know, at first I really despised him," mused Sally Ann, "both for the way he acted before, but also because he knuckled under to us when we told him we were going to sissify him. But then I watched a TV documentary on what happens to the lives of people branded as molesters. It’s pretty horrible, and prison is just the beginning. It’s even worse for child molesters, and we made ourselves look awfully young in those pics we took while he was drugged. I can see why he’d do almost anything to avoid being branded as one of them."

"And his dad!" interjected Meredith. "I’ve met him. I can see why he was like the way he was."

"Yeah," said Sally Ann. "Remember some of the stories Joyce told us!?"

"Actually," commented Charlene. "In the last six weeks. His reaction to what we’ve made him do has changed. He doesn’t act scared and humiliated any more, nor does he try to act really swishy and femmy to please us. He just acts feminine - like a nice girl."

"That’s it!" exclaimed Meredith. "That’s what’s been nagging at me! Georgie has been a really nice girl - like I’d like to have as a friend." The others nodded.

"That’s right; you’re right Meredith!" said Sally Ann. "A nice person." And with dawning realization: "And we haven’t been, have we?"

Charlene brought things back into perspective. "Well, we’ll know when ‘it’ arrives, won’t we. If ‘he’ uses the loopholes we left and reverts to his old self mentally, we’ll know it. And we’ll know we did the right thing, and will be doing the right thing in releasing the femme pictures. I have to tell you girls, though," she admitted sheepishly, "that I already destroyed the molester pics. We may be a bitch wolf pack, with me the lead bitch, but even I’m not that big a bitch. I saw the same documentary you did, Sally Ann."

"Oh, I’m so glad, Charlene!"

"Good for you, Charlene!" Both girls admitted they were having second thoughts.

"You know," mused Charlene, "maybe we should have taken Georgie all the way. I bet ‘she’ would have made a really cute girl. "

"And a nice girl." added Meredith. "I really think there were feminine qualities there."

"That’s right. Just waiting to get out." Sally Ann paused. "In fact, they did come out these last couple of weeks. maybe what we call feminine qualities are really just human qualities."

"Now that I think about it," summarized Charlene. "I believe you two are right. Georgie would make a lovely lady, inside and out, and George, a gentleman. I hope we’re wrong about the scenario we predicted for tonight!"

Unbeknownst to the three, Joyce had slipped into the shadows at the side of the bandstand and had overheard the conversation. Now she stepped out. "I’m glad to hear you say that," she said - they looked at her in surprise - "and you ARE wrong. take a look." Three heads turned as one to follow Joyce’s pointing arm. Georgie was on the bandstand, and the DJ was religuishing the microphone to her.

"WHO IS...?"

"THAT’S NOT...?"

"NO, IT CAN’T BE!"

"It is."

"OHMYGAWD!"

"OHMYGAWD!"

"OHMYGAWD!"

"Gorgeous, isn’t she. And it was her choice."

Jacqui just couldn’t stay away. She had closed up, driven to the school, and entered the gym in time to see Georgie climb the stairs to the stage. she had noticed her sister and the rest over on the side of the bandstand and made her way over to them just as Joyce revealed her self and the exclamations had been uttered. "That’s right, sis. I didn’t force her at all; in fact she and I had a ball! Listen; she’s speaking."

Georgie lifted the microphone to within an inch of her mouth and took a deep breath. The absence of music had caused most of the crowd to turn toward the bandstand. Most faces bore an expression of polite curiosity as to who the gorgeous young lady who had just taken the mic was. The growing consensus seemed to be that it was Joyce, all glamorized for the first time in her life. Here and there, there were a few "wait a minute..."s and "I don’t think..."s, but Georgie raised her hand for silence before anyone could blurt out the real truth and, amazingly, got it. George stirred in his virtual armchair, pulled the virtual comforter up around his ears, and cowardly retreated into the blissful ignorance of virtual sleep once again. this was a job for a WOMAN! Georgie began:

"Two and a half months ago, I was George Hall. Tonight I stand before you as Georgie Hall!" The room erupted in noise. Georgie used the time to greet some of George’s friends who were crowding the bandstand.

"Hi Steve. yeah I know. Hard to believe isn’t it?"

"No Mike, I haven’t had ‘the operation."

There weren’t too many friends. The type of guys George had liked to hang out with BC - before Charlene - had rapidly deserted him as his behavior had changed, and were now muttering to themselves things like, "Knew he was a faggot all along." Surprisingly, when one had the nerve to shout "Faggot!" at him, the girl next to him slapped his face, and a couple of guys indicated that he ought to shut up and listen to "the lady." The look of innocent vulnerability created by Jacqui plus the fact that almost everything masculine was asleep in the virtual armchair, were definitely affecting the crowd. The great majority wanted to hear what "the lady" had to say, and wanted to like her. As the crowd quieted down, Georgie continued.

"Biologically, this" she indicated her body "is still George, but up here" pointing to her head "and here", pointing to her heart, "I’m definitely Georgie Girl!" With a smile, she pointed to her head again. "I’m sure George is still in here somewhere. He’s probably hiding. As you know, this is not his until recently macho image." A few giggles and a couple "That’s for sure!"s as she paused. "George was an A-1 asshole! - Just like you, Miklowski!" she swiveled and pointed at the former friend that had shouted "faggot" at her. "A lot of you ladies know it, because a lot of his abominable misogynist behavior was directed at you, and I hereby publicly apologize to all of you who suffered because of his - my - bad behavior. Some of you decided to do something about it." Here she looked over at the group at the side of the bandstand. "And I’m so glad you did,... Here she smiled. "...although George wasn’t at the time. Charlene, Meredith, Sally Ann would you come up here please."

The three girls looked at each other. Was this some kind of trap? Surely George wasn’t so dumb as to believe that they hadn’t prepared for a trap.

Knowing what they were thinking, Joyce leaned over and whispered to them. "It’s not a trap, girls, she...he...well, they’re both really sincere. You three were really mean to George, but he realized he deserved it, and... Well, go on up and let him tell it. Trust me, the LADY that you see up there is real, is enjoying her femininity, and thanks you for the opportunity to realize it." There was a confirming nod from Jacqui. Deciding to trust Joyce and Georgie, and, of course, having the means to deal with it if it was some kind of trap, the three made their way to the stage. As each one reached the bandstand, Georgie gave her a big hug, and when they were all arrived, she picked up the mic again.

"I want all of you out there to take a good look at these three women. They are beautiful, feminine, women, but they are not wimps; they are strong women who won’t put up with any of the macho bullshit crap that George and those of you assholes out there like George used to be dish out. Look at me; look at what George has become. We like what I am, but the process was acutely embarrassing and humiliating. You know; you all saw George, watched as he went through it. Be afraid; be very afraid! Ladies, if you’re in a shit relationship with one of those macho assholes, pay these three a visit. You don’t have to put up with it; they didn’t." She turned toward the three. "Charlene, Sally Ann, Meredith, You made George see himself as others, particularly girls, saw him, and he didn’t like what he saw." She mentally approached the virtual armchair and gave George a shake. Wake up, sleepyhead, you’re on " I’m going to let George tell the rest of this in his words." She smiled. "Cut him a little slack, as he’ll probably be somewhat embarrassed to be looking like this"

Thanks, lady. I was supposed to sleep through this, you know. - Good Lord, how do you stand these shoes! George took over. "At first, I went along with what they told me to do because..." (The three girls tensed up. Was Georgie going to spill the beans on them, accuse them of false blackmail now, when she had the crowd on her side?) "...Well, I won’t tell you how they got me to do it because they may have to do it again, to someone else who deserves it!" (The three, in unison, gave a sigh of relief.) "Christmas was a particularly low and humiliating point for me. I had to pretend I was femmy boy and loving every minute of it to my sister, Joyce. Joyce!" she called. "Will you come up here also?" She beckoned. "Oh, and you, too, Jacqui. Might as well get the whole gang up here." As Jacqui stepped up on the bandstand, Georgie mentally pushed George aside for a moment and gave her a curtsy. "This is Jacqui, Charlene’s sister. she owns a beauty salon, and if you like what you see..." She curtsied to the crowd. "...and I certainly do! ..." another curtsy to Jacqui "...this is the woman responsible. George went in; I came out. Jacqui, this incredible woman, spent six hours today creating me!"

There was a smattering of applause that, to the surprise of the six on the bandstand, turned into a thundering applause, then a standing ovation. Reluctant boyfriends were given "The Look" by their newly empowered girlfriends and hurriedly joined in. Jacqui grabbed the mic and shouted into it, "You - and George - created you, honey. I just helped!"

Charlene pulled Meredith and Sally Ann aside and into a quick huddle while the applause continued. "Listen, girls, she whispered hurriedly, "This can be nothing but good for us. Can you visualize it: ‘The Three Ladies Boyfriend Reformation Service’. I say we call ourselves even with George and give up all the pics and tape; it looks like we’ve actually done some good here."

"Oh, Charlene," came thankfully from Meredith, "I’m so glad you said that because it’s what I’ve been thinking."

"Me, too." added Sally Ann, "But don’t you wonder, girls, WHO we’ll be giving the pictures and tapes to? All three giggled, and broke apart embarrassedly as they realized that the applause had died down and everyone could hear them.

George forcefully took back command Sheesh, what a pushy broad. YOU woke ME up, you know! "I was talking about Christmas. My sister saw through my act, and I had to tell her everything. We concocted a plan to get even with these three." She indicated the three cheerleaders. They looked shocked; this was news to them. "Yes, ladies, that Christmas tape and visit were an act to get you overconfident, and it worked!" She/he turned back to the crowd. "But as the time of this dance approached, I came to realize that many of the feminine things they were teaching their reluctant pupil" she/he indicated her/himself "were really human things. And I began to really try to learn them, so that I could use them, in modified form, to remake myself as a better man when the ordeal was over. Then they made an error. (He didn’t want the girls to know that he knew that this was no error but a part of their plan.) The final phase of their plan for me was for me to go in and enthusiastically ask for a makeover from Jacqui here at her salon, and then attend the dance tonight. If I did this, they said, they would consider us even, and they gave me written instructions for what I had to ask for from Jacqui. The thing was, those instructions were worded so loosely that I could have come here tonight looking almost like my old self. I had come to know that these ladies are basically honorable women,nice women. They would keep her word, and I could gloat about how I’d outsmarted them in the long run. (Charlene blushed; this was exactly what they’d expected, knowing he wouldn’t realize how femmy he really looked.) And that’s what I intended to do. But then something strange occurred. The closer it got to the dance, the more I felt that it would be really mean to do that to them, for in reality they’d done me a good turn in the long run. When the word ‘mean’ changed to ‘bitchy’ in my mind. I knew this new person, Georgie would be going to the dance. I wanted to show you three that you’d succeeded, that, whether George or Georgie, I was going to be a better human being. And what better way to do that, then to be the best woman I could be." The applause started up again, but he put up a hand for silence. "And here we are Georgie AND George. We don’t know which of us will stay and which will go. I like Georgie; she likes me. maybe we’ll both stay and switch back and forth. We don’t know. But now, I’m through. This is Georgie’s night! Charlene, Meredith, Sally Ann, strange as it may sound, thank you. Thank you so much for the rest of my life! You’re on, babe; it’s back to the armchair for me. Wake me up when we’re ready to be Cincinnati bound. ENJOY!

There was no overt change, but the fact that it was Georgie and not George who turned and hugged all five other women on the bandstand was undisptable. Right before returning the mike to the bandleader, she yelled into it, "LET’S PARTY!" The bandleader took the mic and put it back into the stand. He picked up his guitar, and thought for a moment; then he called his band mates into a quick conference. He turned to the crowd. "We don’t usually play this kind of music, but we know this one because we learned it for my sister’s bat mitzvah. given the circumstances, I think it’s appropriate. This one’s for our new girl, Georgie!" He gave a quick riff leading into a rock band version of West Side Story’s "I Feel Pretty."

Georgie did feel pretty. She was riding on a high of "I love it when a plan comes together.", but more than that, the high of a pretty girl who knows she’s pretty and feels really good about herself, secure in her femininity and ready to have a good time.

Ray watched the proceedings waiting to see if Charlene would still signal. His mind drifted. The thing was, from a disinterested employee ready to embarrass a femmy boy to make a few bucks, he had, during the course of Georgie’s speech, become a sympathizer. In fact, Ray wasn’t a bad sort down deep. Being bigger than most guys, and gay, he had grown up an outsider. Considered different by his peers, he had compensated by becoming a bad ass brawler that nobody wanted to mess with. Very few people knew he spent his free time enjoying classical music and reading and writing poetry. He really hoped Charlene would not give the signal. Also, it didn’t hurt that Georgie was his fantasy dream date made real, a gorgeous young woman who had his preferred kind of equipment between her legs!

"Hi, there..." Ray jerked his head up and stared into the eyes of his dream date. "...wanna dance?" Ray couldn’t believe it. He glanced toward Charlene. She didn’t give the signal, just waved and mouthed "Enjoy!" to him. "You’ll have to be patient; ..." Georgie smiled at him. "... I’ve never danced the girl’s parts before."

"I’d love to." Ray took her in his arms and they danced. Thank you, God!

Georgie and Ray had a wonderful time. George pulled the virtual comforter over his head during the slow dances. Ray was disappointed when she told him she was leaving for Cincinnati directly after the dance, but gave her his business card so they could keep in touch.

As the dance wound down, it seemed like every girl had to come and give Georgie a hug, and many of the guys, too, but finally she was standing outside by the U-Haul. Joyce had already gotten in and was behind the wheel. Charlene, Meredith, and Sally Ann were there.

"I know what you said on the bandstand, Georgie", said a contrite

Sally Ann, "but we were so mean to you...to George. can you...he... really forgive us?

Georgie put her hands on Sally Ann’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. The voice was George’s. "Sally Ann" she/he made eye contact on either side "and you two also. I meant every word I said. Thank you for the rest of my life! You three made me see what I was, and I realized that I had been following a role model, my dad! My dad ... you all know him ... my dad was me thirty years ago and look at him now. Joyce has told you. He bowls once a week and swaps drunken stories with his buddies, and I don’t think he really even likes them. No decent woman will have anything to do with him. Joyce IS a girl, and she can’t even dress or act like one at home. He made my four older brothers into Neanderthals. Now ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’ is coming true for him; they never come home or call him. I think about how Al, my oldest brother, treats his wife, and I begin to understand why our mother died young. Now he’s just a bitter, aging, lonely old man. Thank God for you three!, because now, no matter whether George or Georgie, I will NEVER turn out like him!" Georgie took over and swept the three into a group hug; Jacqui joined in and even Joyce got out of the U-haul. There wasn’t a dry eye in the group

Charlene was the first to sniff back tears and back out of the hug. She pulled an envelope out of her purse and held it up as the rest of the group broke apart. "Here’s the damning evidence. I destroyed all the molestation stuff weeks ago; I’m not totally a bitch."

"Just ninty-five percent one." said Jacqui, as she swatted her sister on the side of the head. But she was smiling affectionately as she said it. Their relationship had taken a turn for the better tonight, and that would continue.

"Anyway," continued Charlene, smiling, "before I hand it over, I think I and my friends here would like to know WHO we’re handing it over to. who’s going to Cincinnati, Georgie or George?"

"You know," said Meredith teasingly "if you were staying here, we’d MAKE you stay Georgie. We wouldn’t want to lose our new girlfriend!" And she gave Georgie’s arm a squeeze.

Georgie laughed. "Well, I know Roy wouldn’t be too happy..."

"You sure made his night, honey!" interjected Jacqui. "You know, he turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Proves the old ‘can’t tell a book by it’s cover’ thing."

"...but you’ll be turning it over to George. He’ll take over mentally and physically as soon as the U-haul gets underway. I’ll change in the back while my underage co-conspirator here..." She indicated Joyce. "...drives. - we’ve gotta get you a fake license, sis - I’ve got a job waiting for me, and I don’t think my employers are expecting someone in a dress." (At that, Joyce’s face broke out in a somewhat guilty grin. Fortunately Georgie/George didn’t see. It wasn’t time yet.) "But you guy’s come visit sometime. Joyce’ll have my address and phone number. And maybe, when you come, it’ll be your girlfriend Georgie that you hang with"

With that, Georgie climbed into the passengers seat, while Joyce got in on the drivers’ side. Charlene came up to Joyce’s window and spoke to both of them. "You know we’re going to continue this, don’t you." And she related her "Three Ladies..." concept.

"I figured you would." said Joyce, with an enigmatic smile on the lips. "We’ll be in touch."

"You go, girls!" came enthusiastically from Georgie. "George will be living proof that your methods work!"

Charlene stepped back and through a few sniffles terminated the goodbyes. "you take care, hon. You, too, Joyce; Really do keep in touch." Jacqui came to the window and, reaching past Joyce, hurriedly shoved an envelope into George’s hand. Joyce put the U-haul in gear, backed out of the space, and pulled out of the parking lot. She could see Jacqui and the three cheerleaders waving in the rearview mirror. She thought Jacqui had a rather guilty look on her face, but then they were around the corner. A very masculine voice aired a very female complaint, followed by an audible sigh of relief. "These heels are murder; my feet are killing me! OH, yes, yes, that’s better. Well, sis, we did it. Thank you, sis, from the bottom of my heart. You could have really taken Charlene and Company’s part, and you had every right to, given the jerk I’d been. But you didn’t, and you’ve saved my life; I’m convinced i would have ended up just like Dad. You probably saved those three from turning out life-long bitches, too. And now I’ve got three friends I can remember fondly rather than three enemies to resent and plot revenge on."

Unconsciously, George laid his hand on Joyce’s arm in a very feminine Georgie-like manner. Joyce noticed it. Good. She’s not gone. It confirmed in her mind that what she was about to do was the right thing.

George continued. "I second every word Georgie said back there, and BOTH of us had a wonderful time tonight, but it’s time for her to retire and George to come back. I’ll just duck in the back and change."

He started to get up, but Joyce put her free hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the seat. "I don’t think you’d better do that just yet."

"Huh! Why not, sis?"

"George, pull down the sunvisor and look in the vanity mirror. Look at your face. Whose face is it? Really look before you answer.

"OHMYGAWD!"

"That’s right. It’s Georgie’s face. You can take off the makeup, but those eyebrows are a dead giveaway. Your hair? Jacqui gave Georgie a permanent, didn’t she? And she added highlights, didn’t she? Look at YOUR nails; those are acrylic, they don’t come off! And I bet Georgie insisted on them, didn’t she? I’ll bet under that beautiful dress, that body’s completely hairless. Waxed?" In shock, George nodded. "I thought so. My poor, dear, brother, when you walked into Jacqui’s, you surrendered the whole playing field didn’t you? It’s a good thing there wasn’t time, or YOU’d be sitting here now with breast implants, right?" Another nod. "As it is, I bet those breast forms are glued on with surgical adhesive, aren’t they. Even with the solvent, they’re gonna be hell to get off. That kind of adhesive is meant to biodegrade over a period of time as a wound heals. Plan on a "C" Cup month, bro; at least. Anything else?" By this time, George had his head in his hands. When he raised his head to look at Joyce, it was turning bright red. Now it was her turn. "OHMYGAWD! She even went for the fake vagina, didn’t she? Glued on? Same adhesive?" Two nods. "Oh...My...Gawd, SIS, plan on a month of peeing sitting down, too!" Joyce pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, turned off the engine, and put on the hazard flashers. The sister and brother/sister looked at each other. Gradually George’s look of dismay was replaced by a slight smile. Thank you, God! thought Joyce and she allowed a smile to grow on her face. Soon the sisters were laughing in each others arms.

"Well, sis, guess I’m stuck... as her... for at least a month." gulped George, fighting down residual giggles. Georgie, get your butt outta that armchair. "Can’t say I’m too upset. After all, she is me, and vice-versa I guess we just merge." Right? Right! "But what am I gonna do about Cincinnati? About the job Monday? Georgie doesn’t have a drivers license, a social security card, credit cards, anything."

"Well", said Joyce, "hang on to your seatbelt, ‘cause there’s been some changes in the plan."

Heavy sigh: "I figured. By the way, The name’s Georgie Ann now; we merged. It’ll just be G.A. when I’m in male mode."

"Wow!" exclaimed Joyce, genuinely surprised. "Jacqui is taking care of all your new records. And since you were George Andrew Hall, She did put Georgie Ann Hall down on everything. This has got to be a sign! Did you read her note."

"No."

Georgie Ann took out the envelope and opened it. The note, on pink stationary, read: "Dearest Georgie, my new girlfriend, if you’re reading this, please turn things back to George. I think it’ll only be for a few minutes. George, I hope when you look in the mirror and realize what’s been done, you’re not too angry with me. Everything about you is what Georgie wanted, and, frankly, we were having so much fun I got carried away and completely forgot about George - even when attaching the boobs and vagina! I hope you and Georgie can just get together and enjoy. I think it’ll work. Why? If Joyce hasn’t explained it yet, she will. Love ya, hon, whether George or Georgie. Your friend (I hope) Jacqui."

Georgie Ann looked from the note to her sister. Resignedly: "OK, sis. Explain."

"Well, sis, there WAS a job in Cincinnati for George, but it fell through weeks ago. I knew we still had to get out of here tonight, but I didn’t want to bother you with this little glitch because you were doing so well carrying out the plan. Then I got to thinking. You WERE doing well. Your emerging feminine side WAS making you into a better person. Were there other Boys and men out there who would benefit from the same ‘treatment’? I did a little research and found, at least according to women nationwide, that there were probably thousands. I thought to myself, that I could help those women get rid of the obnoxious men in their lives, and help the obnoxious men - men like you used to be, Sis - to become better persons. I could use, in modified and expanded forms, the methods used by Charlene and Company. They had the market at home, so I needed to go elsewhere. Also, I couldn’t bear the thought of staying at home, with you gone, alone with dad. I can’t be his pseudo-son anymore, Georgie Ann. I’m a girl; I want to act like one, look like one, BE one! You’ve experienced your feminine side for what, two months, tops; I’ve experienced my masculine side for TEN YEARS. Now’s my girl time!" Here Joyce paused, gulped, and girded herself for what she now had to admit. "I decided to go with you - we’re going to Chicago, by the way - but I knew George, masculine protective George, even the NEW George, would never agree. I’m only fourteen. I needed... need ... help, and you’re eighteen, legally an adult." Here it came. OK, Joyce, girl; get it over with and see if you’re on the way to Chicago or hitching a ride back home.* "But, I set you up! I needed Georgie, not George. From the way George was changing during the weeks before the dance tonight, I was pretty sure that what actually did happen at Jacqui’s would happen; that he would ‘go girl’. Although," here, she chuckled, "I did NOT expect the vagina!" She looked straight at her brother/sister. "I wanted Georgie not to be able to turn back to George tonight!" She waited. The face across from her was a mask. She couldn’t tell if George, Georgie, or Georgie Ann was in control.

All she got was, "Keep going" in a gender-neutral monotone.

That was scarier than rage or tears, she thought. Oh, well, he - she assumed George was the one listening - hasn’t pushed me out of the car yet. "And it worked. You’re stuck, BROTHER dear. You will at least look like Georgie for a month. And, if you’re wondering, Jacqui wasn’t in on this. She just responded to Georgie’s natural enthusiasm, like I knew she would." Again an involuntary chuckle, "But, I repeat, I did NOT expect the vagina!" Serious again "But you do have choices. You can take me back, go to a medical clinic for help, and leave alone as George, although I think you’d still be an effeminate George. You can make me get out here and continue on, and try to survive as Georgie on your own; here are the documents she needs that Jacqui had prepared." She took an envelope out of her purse and handed it to George. When he made no move to take it, she laid it in his lap. "OR, and here’s what I hope you’ll do, you can be Georgie Ann for a month and help me get Vaingirls started. I admit,I can’t do what I’ve planned without her - or..." reluctantly "...George - I need an adult but..." and here she pleaded, "...I also need a girlfriend! God, Georgie Ann, you’re more feminine than I am! I’ve been a boy, for all practical purposes, thanks to Dad, for the last 10 years. Charlene and Company may have had you as the target of their ‘girl campaign’, but they made me see too, and to remember mom, and being a little GIRL. I want to be a girl! You, You’re ready to pass anywhere, but I don’t think you think you are. I think Georgie Ann wants my help. Be Georgie Ann for a month. We’ll help each other. If you do, and if at the end of that time, you want to be George and go you’re own way, I swear, I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Please, Georgie Ann, we can help so many people, and help each other, and it’ll be FUN; I know it will!" She’d given it her best shot. She waited.

"Vaingirls?" definitely in George’s voice.

" A transformation salon. A place for boys who want to be girls - or who maybe don’t want to be but need to be, like you." Do you know what crossdressers, transvestites, transsexuals, all the transgendered go through? I didn’t, but I learned, I researched. Sometimes their lives are a living hell. Undeserved feelings of shame, self-loathing from violating society’s standards of what’s proper." ‘Society’s standards’ brought scorn to Joyce’s voice. "Femininity should be enjoyed, treasured for the nurturing and compassionate qualities it brings to humanity! You know. You know you’re a much better person, male or female, for experiencing your feminine side. No matter what you do in the future, aren’t you glad NOW that you were forced to do it? But what if Charlene and Company really had been bitches and not basically nice girls? What if you had always wanted to be a girl, or just to dress like one, and had no one to help you, particularly living with someone like dad? While most dads aren’t as bad as ours, they’re not exactly TG friendly! Those boys and men who want or need to experience their feminine side need a place where that can happen in a friendly nurturing environment. All right, sometimes a not-so-friendly environment, too, but one developed by people who care about the Person and aren’t out to humiliate him only for their own amusement! I - we - can do that! Jacqui believes I can, so much so that she will advance me $25,000 to rent space and build the physical plant. Then she’ll move to Chicago and front the place, do the actual makeovers, teach me. But only if you, if Georgie Ann, will help! A fourteen year old can’t do everything - not even me!" She allowed herself some self-pride here. Again she waited.

The silence stretched. No change of expression. George’s voice: "Sis, you’re crazy! ..."

Her heart sank, and she lowered her head. I won’t cry! she thought. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. Oh, the hell I won’t! But just as she was about to let the tears flow, she felt fingertips softly brush her cheek. She looked up to see a radiant smile.

"... But I love you!" Georgie Ann’s voice, as she swept Joyce into a big hug. "You want a business partner, girlfriend, and older sister for a month, sis, you got her!"

"Oh, oh, oh....." for once, Joyce was at a loss for words, and the two sisters concentrated on just hugging each other.

After the emotional tide had waned, Georgie Ann did go into the back of the U-haul and change, but into girls jeans and a halter top that showed off her silicon induced cleavage quite nicely. "For all the truckers watching!" she explained to her sister, who smacked her

"Tramp!" but in a loving tone of voice.

Georgie Ann, the one legal driver, changed places with her sister, started up the U-haul, and pulled back onto the interstate. 300 miles to Chicago, and a whole new life - for a month, anyway! Silence reigned as each apparently was lost in her own thoughts.

"Sis," said Georgie Ann after awhile, staring straight ahead at the road, "just don’t paint my office pink!"

Joyce had the grace to blush. That was exactly what she’d been planning to do.

Twenty-eight year old Joyce shook her head. I oughta write a book she thought. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips. The coffee was cold. Time for bed, but just a little clean up first. She got up, washed her cup out and hung it back on the rack. Then she headed up the stairs to the apartment she shared with the other three "girls". Fourteen years she thought, fourteen years!

As she ascended the stairs, her thoughts returned to the present and the young man who was going to be gorgeous, whether "she" liked it or not!

Epilogue

Georgie Ann had stayed more than a month, six months in fact, and she and Joyce and Jacqui, who did join them after the first month, had built Vaingirls. They had used $10,000. of Jacqui’s money as a down payment on an old art deco looking building on Halsted Street, where they still remain. Built in the 1930’s, it needed some repairs, but nothing the remaining money couldn’t handle. Jacqui’s makeovers quickly became famous throughout Chicago’s TG community, and she trained Joyce well. Joyce found, however, that she had a real talent for sewing and design, and, while always the "bosslady", she became Vaingirls’ seamstress. Over the years the other three Vaingirls, all originally clients, were brought on board, and Jessica is now the seamstress. Vaingirls’ is currently on the verge of launching a new line of ladies’ clothing designed with the figure problems faced by its clientele in mind - all designed by Joyce.

Charlene, Meredith, and Sally Ann’s transformation service, Three Ladies, prospered, and the girls stayed in contact with Vaingirls. When Joyce decided it was time, Three Ladies became the first Vaingirls franchise.

Ray ended up working for Three Ladies, and married a nice man he met through them. All the Vaingirls attended the ceremony, and G.A. was going to act as best man; however, when it was learned that Ray would be the one wearing the wedding gown, a 6’6" bride, Georgie Ann attended as maid of honor.

Georgie Ann had finally decided that going back to school was necessary, and that that could be accomplished more efficiently as G.A. True to her word, although reluctantly, Joyce had helped her sister Georgie Ann successfully transition to her brother, G.A. There were some tearful moments on both parts as they packed away Georgie Ann’s things, those not suitable for G.A., and stored them in Vaingirls’ attic. G.A. completed his undergraduate work at the University of Illinois so successfully that he received a full scholarship to Harvard Law School. Upon completion, magna cum laude, he returned to Chicago and set up his own law practice specializing, to Joyce’s delight, in gender issue cases. He was, of course, Vaingirls’ lawyer as well as the personal lawyer of his sister and the three other "girls". When, seven years ago, he became engaged, he made sure his fiancee got to meet Georgie Ann. Knowing her brother, her new brother that she had helped create, Joyce was not surprised that the fiancee he had chosen found Georgie Ann "adorable". While G.A. is around most of the time, Georgie Ann - and wife - come out to play with the Vaingirls a couple of times a year.

Five years ago, word reached G.A. that his father had died. There had been no contact since he and Joyce had left. His father had, it turned out, taken the time to find out where they were though, and had informed his lawyer to contact them, along with G.A.’s four brothers, upon his death. When the Hall clan gathered for the funeral, four because of hope of financial gain, two for old time’s sake, because they knew better, it was Georgie Ann who attended; she thought that was fitting, and Joyce concurred. The brothers asked where "George" was, and Joyce told them he was dead and that Georgie Ann was his widow. In a way it was true. None of them recognized George in Georgie Ann.

During the funeral visit, Georgie Ann saw Al, her oldest brother, the one from Akron who had married the cheerleader, smack his wife several times. Georgie Ann managed to get her, Sharon, aside and told her she knew just the greatest lawyer. Sharon, definitely not the airhead bimbo Al had told everyone she was, confessed that she was on the point of leaving Al, but that she was afraid for herself and the children. How could she protect them and hersef from an ever more violent Al? Knowing the limitations of the law in matters like this, Georgie Ann called Joyce over. Last Thanksgiving, the whole Vaingirls crew was invited by Sharon to Akron for the long Thanksgiving weekend. They were met at the door by a rather large but pretty maid named Alice. This time G.A. came, and he swore it was the best Thanksgiving he’d ever had!

END ?

 

 

If you liked this story and would like to see other stories from the Vaingirls archives, or if you have story ideas you’d like to share, please e-mail me, Jezzi, at: jezzi@tgforum.com

I modeled Vaingirls after a real place, Transformations by Rori, in the Chicago area. E-mail me if you would like more information.

 

 

© 2000
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this story must contact the author for permission.