A Very Pretty Boy

A Very Pretty Boy

By Bea

December 2000



"Dammit!" I said furiously, dangerously close to tears as I kicked the wheel of the lawn mower, then let out a muffled yowl as my toe hurt in reaction. I then jumped in total surprise as an attractive female voice spoke behind me saying, "Something wrong? Need a hand?"

I turned to snap a nasty response at whoever it was, but just gawped in astonished silence at the gorgeous young woman who was standing beside me. Her hair was a tawny brown - with a lot of red highlights. Calm blue eyes and a fantastic even tan. A little taller than me I noted because, even standing on our sloping lawn her eyes were on a level with mine. Lithe and athletic looking, she was wearing a short pleated white skirt and a yellow polo type shirt. White socks and kinda grubby tennis shoes. No makeup worth talking about. No jewelry.

She smiled. "Do I pass?"

"Pass what?" I replied, dazed.

"Your inspection." she laughed.

I blushed beet red. "I'm sorry. Wasn't meaning to be rude. You just surprised me is all. Didn't hear you come up."

"That's okay," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Karen. Looks like we're going to be neighbors."

I took her hand, surprised at the strength in it. "Hi. I'm Mark. When did you move in? I haven't seen any moving vans or anything."

"Me? I just got in today. Was staying with friends while the house got straightened away. Mom gets paralyzed with aggravation because I like to do heavy work - so keeps me away from it when she can. But she moved in last weekend. Didn't you see any of the fuss? She's very particular, and I can't imagine that with a move going on, she didn't attract some attention."

I thought, then solved the problem. "Last weekend? That explains it. Mummy had me away overnight attending one of her stupid hockey games and we spent the night with one of her old team mates. Didn't get back until late Sunday evening."

"Hockey games? Ice hockey?" she asked, a sudden gleam in her eye.

"Naw. She used to be a big time field hockey player and is still big on supporting her old college team . ."

"Field hockey? Wow!" Karen broke in. That looks like a real tough game. Always wanted to play it myself - but mom raises hell with me if want to play any of those 'rough' games . ." She said the last with an aggrieved expression on her face.

"Mine too. It's okay for me to watch, but play? No way Jose!" I complained.

"Well, I suppose I could see where she's coming from," Karen said. "You do like well - kinda small and fragile. You really want to play a game like that?"

"No. Not really. But don't tell mummy, huh?"

She smiled, showing really nice white teeth. "Gotcha!"

I smiled in turn, and said. "You can let go now?"

It was her turn to blush. "I'm sorry" she said, letting my hand go. "It's just that you're quite unusual for a boy."

"Unusual? In what way?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, you're very pre.. attractive," she replied, stumbling over the words a little, then made an obvious attempt to change the subject. "But anyway. Are you having problems with the mower?"

"You got that right." I said. "Stupid thing! Our gardener quit and I got the idea that I should start doing the mowing now. Build up some muscles. - But it's really hard work! " I could feel my eyes fill with frustrated tears as I continued. "Maybe mummy's right after all. It's really not good for you to do heavy manual work dear." I tried to growl in a poor imitation of my mother's deep voice.

Karen laughed sympathetically and, to my surprise, gave me a quick hug, then let go. . "Yeah. Parents! My mom is just as bad! But let me look at your mower for a minute. I heard the way that it was running before it quit on you." With that she squatted down and started poking about at the engine. Then she looked up at me, a smile on her face. "Yeah. Think I know what it is. Could you get me a number two Phillips head screwdriver?"

"Let me see if I can find one," I replied with absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

Quite pleased with myself, I returned from our garage a few minutes later and handed her the screwdriver I'd found. She gave me a kind look. "Sorry Mark. This is a standard blade screwdriver. I need a . ."

She paused. "Don't know what a Phillips looks like, do you?"

"No Karen. " I admitted. "Haven't a clue"

"C'mon then you sweet thing. Take me to your tool chest and we'll see what we can find, huh?" She stood up and put an arm about my shoulder as I led her back to our garage. I knew I should be insulted, but it was if she was drawing me into, and under, her protection, and I felt warmed and gratified by it.

In the garage, she found the screwdriver she wanted in minutes. I giggled as she identified some of the tools there and made me repeat their names. I felt quite masculine reeling off names like 'Crescent wrench' 'Vicegrips' , 'Round Files', 'Flat files'. I giggled even more when she patted me gently on the backside and said how clever I was. "Not just a pretty face." She commented, grinning widely. Then she added "You probably don't need to know the name of tools, but maybe some other time when you're giving me a hand, it'll come in handy if you know what I'm asking you to get."

Back at the mower, she made some magical adjustments and after some vigorous pulls on the starter cord, had it roaring with power in minutes. Awestruck, I watched her then take the brute machine under her control and mow the remaining bits of the lawn in minutes - then go and touch up bits that I hadn't done properly. With a flourish, she headed it into the garage, smiling at me over her shoulder as she did so, and cut the power. "That was fun!" she said coming back to me, her face slightly flushed with the exercise.

"Let's sit down for a minute, okay?"

Normally, I don't think too much of sitting on newly mown grass. But I could deny this goddess nothing. She found us a spot out of view from the street and pulled me down to sit beside her. Put an arm around my shoulder, then pulled me into her embrace. I felt very weak and compliant.

Somehow, I'm not sure how, I found myself on my back with her leaning over me. "Close your eyes Mark." she said softly.! "What for?" I asked.

"Just for me? Please? And keep them shut until I tell you?"

"Okay" I grumbled, but happily did as she suggested.

"Wow!" I heard her say softly.

"Eh? What's wrong?" I asked, opening my eyes to find her face close to mine.

"Mark! you're being naughty! Keep your eyes shut!"

"You're awful bossy!" I complained. "Just about as bad as mummy!" But I was happy and probably had difficulty in hiding it..

"Darn tootin I'm bossy!" she said. "Did your mom ever spank you when you were a kid?" she asked confidentially.

"A couple of times, I guess." I answered.

"Well if you don't behave, I just might have to take you over my knee as well!" she said, but softly and seductively.

At that point I knew that I had a raging erection, but hoped desperately that she wouldn't notice. After all, what would a girl like her think of a guy that got an erection when she threatened to spank him?

But she seemed to be concentrating on another part of me anyway. I felt a fingernail trace itself lightly down my cheek. "I think you've got what they call a 'peaches and cream' complexion Mark. It's pretty.. Know that?"

"Aw Karen! C'mon!" I protested, but weakly as she kept talking.

"And your skin's SO soft! And these long eyelashes! They're lovely! My cousins would give their right arms for them! They're always nattering about things like eyelashes and complexions and makeup. I've never thought about it before - but they were right. You're complexion is lovely - and your long lustrous eyelashes? So full, and curling! They just help to complement it. Your cheeks are nice and round and soft - and you don't even wear blusher, do you?"

"Aw Karen . . "

"But you know? You really need to do something with that hair of yours!" she said, mockingly chiding.

"Aw Karen! Please knock it off. You sound just like mummy. ' I wish you'd do something with your hair! It's far too long . ."

She surprised me. Pulled the rubber band that held my pony tale in place and I felt her frame my face with the loose hair. ""Listen to your mother!" she said sternly. "Women KNOW about things like that! Needs some styling and arranging - and maybe a nice loose perm? It'd be lovely!"

Then, before I could respond, her fingers touched my lips lightly. "And those LIPS! Nice and full - and a lovely shade of red. Can I steal a kiss?"

"Please stop Karen. You're treating me like a . ."

But my protests were cut off by her lips descending on mine, and her tongue - gently probing but insistent - forcing its way into my mouth where it probed and felt its way around until I was sure that she had completely memorized my total oral cavity. She pulled it back out and lifted her lips from mine. Then she said "You can open your eyes now sweetie."

I could feel my eyes glazed with longing and a trace of sweat on my upper lip as I looked up at this beautiful girl gazing down on me as if she owned me. "You were saying?" She asked.

"Eh?"

"That I was treating you like . . .?"

Too dazed to lie, I answered her honestly. "Like. . Like a girl." I said.

She laughed musically. "Oh Mark ! Think I'm blind? Think I can't see this . ." And, as she leaned over to kiss me forcibly on the lips, her hand came to rest on my shorts, directly over my erection. I started to squirm under her, but her hand just remained there, strong and forceful, starting to caress me - and, before I could do anything about it, I started to ejaculate, my penis pumping out an incredible amount of semen in agonizing thrusts.

"Oh dear, Mark! You've made quite a bit of a mess of yourself, don't you think?" she said , once she felt my shorts wetting - but sympathetically. I could only stare up at her, my organ still incredibly pumping, but at a much lower rate now. My head lolled back into the grass.

"I think you need to change your shorts Mark. They look kinda yucky" she said, a tone of amusement in her voice.

With a struggle, I raised my head and looked down at myself. "Oh Christ!" I said, seeing the huge wet stain that spread all over my front. "What am I gonna do?"

"Depends!" she giggled. "If you're intending to mingle in polite society, I'd suggest that you change - and change real quick."

I nodded, listening to the sounds coming from my house. Sighed. "Easier said than done. That's Maria, our part time maid vacuuming upstairs right now. That's where my bedroom is. "

"Can't you wait until she's finished?" Karen asked. "Then sneak in and change?"

"Might be possible. But by that time it'll probably be lunchtime and mummy will be on the lookout for me."

"You always call your mom 'mummy'?" she asked.

I thought about this. "I guess so. Why? Something wrong?"

"Of course not! I think it's cute. Not too many young men respect their mother like that."

"Hadn't thought of it that way," I said carelessly. "But we still haven't figured out how to get me into the house."

Karen nodded. "Might be difficult, huh. There's too much open space around your house, so that they might see you coming. You might run, but that would only draw more attention to yourself. Then there's that bit where anybody passing in a car could see you. But I'm starting to have an idea. Want to try it out?"

"What is it?" I asked hopefully.

"We'll go to MY house. Sneak past my mother and go to my bedroom. I'll give you a pair of shorts of mine and a blouse. They'll be girls' clothes but probably look better than those wet things you're wearing. That way, if anyone does see you, it won't be such a shock - that stain really does stand out you know. Then we can go to your house - and maybe I can divert attention to myself so that you can get in by your back door, then up to your bedroom and change?"

"Doesn't seem like a much better plan to me." I said weakly.

She shrugged. "Up to you. But there's only one person in my house to get past. Not two. And, for sure? Mom won't be in MY bedroom - we have a deal on that!. C'mon, let's go."

I didn't want to argue, and anyway, she had left me and was walking toward her house. Quickly, very conscious of my sticky, soaking wet clothes, I followed her.

We crept in through the front door as quiet as mice. I could hear someone in the parlor humming quietly to herself, but found myself climbing the stairs stealthily and up into Karen's bedroom.

"Quick!" she said. "Into my bathroom and get those things off. Throw them out to me and wash yourself. I'll look you out shorts to wear."

"Thanks Karen" I whispered, blushing anew at the thought of this gorgeous girl having to handle my stained clothes, but going into the bathroom as directed.

There, I took my shoes off first, then opened up my shorts and pulled them off, then stepped out of my jockey shorts. Undid my shirt buttons and pulled it off. Blushing still, I opened the bedroom door just a smidgin and tossed the offensive garments out, then shut the door again. For some reason, I tiptoed over to the wash hand basin and, using a wash cloth and some prettily scented soap, washed myself as quickly as I could. After making sure that I was totally clean, I rinsed the cloth out, washed myself with plain water, then used a hand towel to dry myself off. Just as I finished, a quiet knock came to the door.

"Decent?" I heard Karen giggle.

"Don't come in!" I said, panicked that she was going to do that and catch me naked except for my socks.

"Oh! You're no fun!" She giggled again, as she opened the door and tossed a few articles of clothing in to me.

I picked them up from the floor and gazed at them with horror. A pair of nylon, light blue panties with lace edgings - and worse - a pair of peach colored, satin shorts and a pale blue blouse. "I can't wear these things!" I whispered hoarsely, after opening the door a little.

"Why on earth not?" she answered.

"They're . . . They're girl's things!" I protested.

"What did you expect?" she answered brusquely. "I seem to remember telling you they'd be girl's shorts. Think I wear boy's clothes?"

"But don't you have anything less . . feminine. Please Karen?"

"Mark? I'm losing patience with you! Now put your panties and your shorts on! If you don't I'll come in there in ten seconds and put them on you myself! Ten. . Nine . ."

Erotically charged by the feel of the elasticized legs and this girl with the no-nonsense approach, I hurriedly stepped into the panties and pulled them up into place. Then, it only took a few seconds to realize that the shorts were even worse than I'd thought - they zipped up the back! Panting in a kind of fear, I'd just got into them, when Karen stopped her counting and opened the door!

"Don't know what you're complaining about," she said, coming over and matter-of-factly zipping up the back of my shorts. "They look cute on you. But here, let me do your blouse for you."

And, as I felt my whole body shrink in shame and embarrassment, she proceeded to tie the front tails of the shirt across my tummy, leaving me a bare midriff! "There!" she said with a smile. "Much prettier! Get your shoes on now sweetie, and I'll take you home."

I looked at the shorts in a mirror. The tight peach satin enhanced my naturally round buttocks and I could see that the short legs were flared out and accentuated my hips. My mouth went absolutely dry when I moved and the lace hems of my panties showed momentarily under the wide legs.

"Come on then sweetie! Time to get you home!" Karen repeated.

"Not like this! Please?"

You'd like something else? A dress maybe?"

"No!" I said desperately. Don't you have anything more masculine? I feel all wrong!"

She made a disapproving tutting noise. " Oh! I can see where you're coming from. You DO look more like a boy in girl's clothes than anything else." Then she bit her lip. "But I really don't . . ." Then she brightened. "I know! Sit down here at the dressing table. Come on now! And just shut up until I finish, Okay?"

Mystified, I did as she told me. Watched in a fascinated horror as she re-arranged my hair, taking away my bad, then pulling some forward about my face, then brushing the rest out - then tying it with a peach satin ribbon to match my shorts!

Then off came my socks, to be replaced by a pair of white silky girl's ankle socks with pink edging. Helplessly, but fascinated at the transformation she was making to me, I sat and let her apply lipstick, blusher, and a touch of mascara.

"Knew it!" She exclaimed. "Knew you'd make a dainty little girl! Oh my!"

She'd referred to me as a GIRL! But what was I to do? In my pretty clothes and makeup. Argue with her? So I said nothing, and allowed myself to be led out of her bedroom a few minutes later - after I'd got my shoes on. I still had her arm around my shoulder as we went back down the stairs. A few steps from the bottom a door opened and an attractive woman walked into the hallway below us. She didn't see us for a second, then stopped in surprise as she did.

She was extremely attractive. Tall and slim, dark lustrous hair pulled straight back and held with sterling silver barrettes. A sleeveless dress, in a cool yellow linen. A single strand of pearls around a smooth neck. Elegant hands. White, high heeled sandals. Immaculate makeup - a beautiful woman!

"Well? Hello!" she said with a quiet assurance. "Who's this, Karen?"

"Mom? This is Mark. I've just been showing him my CD collection. He lives next door".

"Ah! How wonderful to see you with a boy for a change! I was beginning to think that the only people you hang out with are your cousins!" the woman said, coming forward and reaching up the stairs a little to shake my hand. "Nice to meet you Mark. But do you mind me asking why you're dressed in my daughters clothes?"

I could only gaze at her in consternation, totally incapable of speech. Karen spoke for me. "It's just a joke mom. His mother won't let him play any boy's games, so he thought he'd surprise her. Sort of make a point that if she's going to treat hiom like one . . you know?"

It sounded lame to me, but as it was better than anything I could come up with, I nodded in agreement.

"I see" the woman said calmly. "My name is Mrs. Stoddard" she said. "After a while? We'll figure out what you can call me." She looked at me, a smile playing about her lips. "You're blushing a lot Mark. But just in case you don't know? I'm not altogether against boys demonstrating their feminine tendencies. And with some more time spent on making you attractive? I bet you'd make a lovely girl."

Just then, the phone rang. She looked at her daughter. "As I said Karen? A very nice change to see you with a boy for a change!." Then she turned to me. "Nice to meet you Mark. Come by any time. Excuse me." With that, she turned and went back into the room she had just left. As she did so, she looked back over her shoulder with a smile, talking to no one in particular. "You might want to try a lighter shade of lipstick next time Mark. That shade is a little old for you."

I was still open mouthed with astonishment at the whole episode as Karen led me out of the house, her arm about my shoulder again.

As we walked across the lawn, her hand fell down my back and, before I knew what was happening, she'd unzipped my shorts a little and her hand had slid inside and was resting on my panties at the back. "This feels very nice to me," she said conversationally. "Like it?" And her hand cupped my buttocks gently, and gave them a slight caress. I didn't need to answer, but I did. "It's lovely, Karen!" I breathed, and came to a full stop, incapable of moving another step.

She pulled me around to face her and gave me a nice soft, long, kiss. "You're so yummy!" she whispered. "Now? After this, when we have a date? I want you to wear these panties. Got it?"

"What panties?" I asked, dazed.

"These, you little silly. Here!"

And she was putting a bunch of frilly, lacy little things into my hand. Panties that she'd had in her pocket. "Mom's always buying me panties like this, hoping I'll wear them. Fat chance!" she said.

Dry mouthed, I took them from her and put them in my pocket.

"Attagirl!" she smiled and gave me another kiss. "Now let's get you into your house . . ."

While Karen rang the front door bell attracting both the maid and mummy's attention, I snuck in the back way and ran quietly upstairs. Never changed and washed my face so fast in my life, then panting a little, sauntered back down the stairs to an astonished Maria who was arguing quite vehemently that I wasn't at home.

I could tell immediately that mummy was quite taken with Karen - and vice versa - so had no problem in getting Karen admitted to the house. Within minutes they had become staunch friends, and soon Karen was eating lunch with us, she and mother swapping all sorts of stories.

I sort of felt left out. Both were jocks - no question about it, with the subject soon swinging around to field hockey, the local (male) football team and various equally boring items of discussion. I sort of drifted off into a daydream, to find out that they had changed the subject onto something much closer to home, namely me!

"He's pretty good about the house - at least as far as doing the beds and dusting - that kind of stuff," mummy was saying - "but as far as getting him to anything like anything heavy or yard work?" She shook her head. "Would have been better if he'd been born a girl!"

"That's what My mom says about ME!" Karen laughed. "Only it's I should have been born a boy! Mom's always bitchin' that she can always hire a gardener, getting help for inside the house is hard to find."

At that point, a peculiar look came into mummy's eyes, and she stared pointedly at me, and spoke in a ruminating tone. "Though? Now that I think of it? Mark is a great little cook - and he's even helped Maria out with the housework now and then . . ."

"It's only when she isn't feeling well, mummy," I responded.

"Yeah. But didn't you put on one of her aprons? And didn't I catch her trying to put one of her little maid's caps on you that one time?"

"I was dusting for heaven's sake mother! And she was only fooling about the cap!" My face was on fire as I answered, frightened to look at Karen to see what she was thinking, as my mother intimated that I was a sissy. As I was perfectly aware that I still had Karen's panties on, I began to think that she wasn't far wrong either!

Karen laughed. "It MUST be mothers! They have a conspiracy to find fault with their kids. Just look at this. You need someone to do some heavy duty yardwork - and he isn't good at doing that kind of stuff. My mom's mad at me because that's the kind of stuff I like to do. She's starting up regular get-togethers to teach my cousins how to look after a house and, just because I don't want to do it. . . I'm in trouble! See? It's a conspiracy between mothers. Let's find what our kids don't want to do - and MAKE them do it!"

"Hah!" My mother laughed argumentatively. "It's the other way around! I wanted Mark to be interested in sports. The minute he learns this? No interest! None at all!" She paused. " I'm fairly good with tools - but I don't have much time at weekends - so do you think Mark wants to learn? No way!" She paused again, thinking. "And? I don't know your mother - but it seems that she's trying to bring you up properly. Train you in important stuff - and you want to go the opposite way altogether. It's NOT mothers - it's you awful teenagers!"

But all of a sudden, both women were staring at me intently.

"Karen? You thinking what I'm thinking?" mother said.

Karen nodded slowly, a grin starting to form about her lips . ."We haven't hired a mowing service yet . ."

"And I sure as hell need one!" mother added.

"And the two lawns are right up against each other!" Karen said excitedly. "It'd be a cakewalk!"

"What are the two of you talking about?" I asked peevishly.

"But? Didn't you say that your mom objected to you doing heavy work?" Mother asked, finally taking her eyes from me and looking directly at Karen.

"She really doesn't mind. Just would much prefer to have somebody help her around the house.." Karen said. "But I really think she's getting fed up with me fighting her at every turn. If Mark would sign up?" She looked pensive.

I was starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Sign up for what? That training your mother is starting up? No way! No way, Jose!"

"Hush dear!" Mummy said. "Wouldn't do you any harm. Learn to cook - do laundry. That kind of stuff."

She turned her attention back to Karen. "Is that the kind of things your mother will be teaching?" "I guess so." Karen laughed. "I've never really listened to what she was talking about. But the more I think about it? She'd probably get on much better with Mark - and it gives her a way out, having a replacement for me."

"I am NOT signing up for any course in housekeeping! That's FINAL!" I said indignantly.



* * *



"Girls?" Mrs. Stoddard said. "I'd like you to meet Mark. He's our new next door neighbor, and he's very interested in learning how to look after a house, so he's going to be attending our meetings for a while."



We were standing in her kitchen. She was just as immaculately dressed as always in a pleated brown skirt and yellow silk blouse. Over them, she wore a pretty lightweight apron, with large loose frills around the wide straps and hem. As would be expected it was tied at the back with an immaculate bow.

She had a possessive arm around my shoulder - as if she thought I might run away. Looking at the two girls in front of me barely able to hide contemptuous smiles, I actually felt like it - though I knew that mummy would probably kill me - and god knows what punishment Karen would wreak on me if I did.

I was totally intimidated by the forces surrounding me as well. The girls were cousins of Karen's but they could have been taken for twins. Their names were Liz and Mary and they were both extremely feminine. Almost identical bouncy blonde hairdo's, similar builds - sorta cute and cuddly - and they played on their similarities with dresses that closely resembled each other - flimsy, floating, pastel chiffons - even identical shades of lipstick. Over their dresses they wore almost identical aprons to the one that Mrs. Stoddard wore - light, colorful, and frilled. I felt as if I was drowning in a sea of women. To make matters worse, Liz spoke up.

"I thought we were all supposed to wear aprons Mrs. Stoddard? How come Mark isn't?"

"That's a very good question Liz. To be quite honest? I hadn't thought if that, "Mrs. Stoddard answered. "I suppose it's because he's a boy . . and. .well . . you know." she trailed off weakly, then recovered. "But fair's fair, wouldn't you say Mark? For the next few weeks, I'll lend you one of mine. Then? During our sewing lessons we'll make you some more. Sound okay?"

"Sewing lessons? I didn't know . ." I started.

"Well you really haven't had much time to find out what lessons I have in mind, but come along dear and we'll get you a nice apron. You other girls can come along too. Help me choose one that goes along with his outfit."

And the first of my humiliations entailed trying on different flounced, frilly, aprons to see which one suited me, by a woman who seemed to have nothing else but that on her mind, and two taunting girls who only wanted to humiliate me. Finally, blushing and feminine I was dressed in an apron of a sort of pink muslin - tied into it with a full bow at the back.. To make matters worse, the tie I normally use for my hair had mysteriously vanished and my hair was falling softly about my face, further enhancing the girlish picture I made. I asked Mrs. Stoddard if she had a rubber band and made the mistake of telling her what it was for. A few minutes later, much to the poorly hidden mirth of the girls, I was wearing one of those lacy, elasticized 'ties' that girls use to hold their hair back. Everyone assured me that it was a perfect match for my apron.

Mrs. Stoddard apologized the first few times she used the term 'girls' to include me, then seemed to forget all about it. The others didn't though, constantly referring to the total group as 'us girls' and 'we girls' at every opportunity. Finally though, once I stopped reacting, they gave up - as I was assimilated into the group.

To tell the truth, it was quite interesting. She explained how it was necessary to have the correct mind set for housework. "I know it sounds sexist" she commented "But there's nothing wrong with saying that a woman should take care of her house. Should want herself to be attractive - and want her house to be attractive. Women have gladly taken on these responsibilities for years simply because we're the best suited for it. Now, I'll be covering a lot of topics over the next few months, but all of them will relate to these subjects - keeping yourself, and your house, well groomed."

Under her guidance we paired up to make beds, then laundry - the best temperatures for the wash and rinse and how to use a machine for certain drying and when, if possible, to use the old fashioned method of hanging items outside to dry. We each had to wash some old lingerie she'd bought for traing purposes from a thrift store. "It's clean girls - but you should get the feel for washing delicates by hand. After they've dried? I'll show you how to iron them. Once you start doing your own? You'll learn how nice it is to wear undies that have been washed and ironed with care." As she said this, Mary blinked her eyelashes rapidly at me.

We took a break at nine forty five. Mary and I were shown how to set the table and arrange cut flowers, while Liz was instructed on the arts of coffee and tea brewing - plus how to make dainty little sandwiches. Actually? I enjoyed the break. Everything tasted nice and the girls and I got into quite a discussion about who had the best technique regarding bed making while Mrs. Stoddard looked on fondly.

We'd all taken our aprons off as it was not considered ladylike to sit around in them. In putting them back on, it was discovered that I had no talent for making a correct bow. I was embarrassed at my clumsiness, so Mrs. Stoddard saw this and took me off privately to show me how to do it properly.

It took me a while - and I was aghast at my own ineptitude. I shook my head angrily once and muttered about my demonstration of fumble fingers. Mrs. Stoddard came over and gave me a hug. "Feel all wrong in working with girls, Mark?" she asked.

I blushed furiously. "I feel so clumsy. So out of things." I muttered into her shoulder.

She patted by back gently. "No dear. You're a natural if ever I saw one. Trust me on this."

With her help and support, I learned how to do it properly. (It was just as well, because the other two girls got a big kick out of untying my bow as they'd pass behind me, whispering "Hey there little missy - your apron bow is untied. Better tie it up nice and pretty again!")

About ten forty five, Mrs. Stoddard looked at her watch. "Sorry girls," she said, "But I've got some telephone calls to make. Can you keep yourselves occupied for say, a half hour? There's some magazines you might like? Or maybe you can just talk? See if you have any questions about what I've been showing you this morning?"

We all agreed that finding something to keep us occupied would pose no problems for us.

I was still getting quite upset with the two girls but didn't want to make a fuss, then Mary undid my apron again, immediately after Mrs. Stoddard went to make her phone call.

"Knock it off!" I growled at her, retying the bow quickly.

"Oooh Liz! Help me!" Mary squealed in mock terror. "Little miss Prissy is getting mad!"

Liz laughed. "Miss Prissy? No! She never gets mad. A dainty little thing like her? Such a sweet little girl. Learning how to make a good housewife. I'll bet that some day . . ."

I was getting scared. These two girls from hell would make my life a misery if I didn't stop them, I knew. I'd never been much good at fighting, but surely I should be able to intimidate a couple of feminine girls like these two! I started to walk confidently towards Mary. "I've just about had enough . ." I was starting to say, when she straightened her shoulders and started walking aggressively towards ME!

"Missy? You haven't had enough of anything. Now say that you're sorry, or I'm going to have to chastise you. You naughty little sissy in your pretty frilly apron. Now say that you're sorry!"

I stopped advancing and without meaning to, started to back away. "Let's not fight, Mary." I said, placatingly, "We're all guests here and there's no need to get quarrelsome. Let's be ..."

"You telling me what I can be and what I can't be, sissy? Say you're sorry!"

She was becoming more and more confident, strutting towards me now, and though her actions were essentially masculine, femininity seemed to emanate from her every pore, her lightweight dress floating about her body as she approached me. She smiled at Liz. "Just look at this little sissy. I think we should take him upstairs and put him in a dress. Don't you? Karen's got a couple of frilly party dresses and some other clothes she's grown out of. I helped Mrs. Stoddard hang them up separately the day that mom and I came over for a visit to see the new house. Betcha our little sissy here would look cute in any one of them. Don't you think so?" The she turned her attention back to me. "Michelle? I think that's a good name for you. Don't you agree - Michelle?"

I blanched. Things had gotten out of hand. How they had, I'd no idea but at the same time any masculinity I had was under assault. Decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

"Mary? I'm sorry! Honest! Let's not fight?"

She continued to advance. "Michelle? Say this. I'm a sissy and my name is Michelle I think that you girls are beautiful and I'd like to be just like you. Hurry up. Say it!"

"Please don't do this?" I pleaded.

"MICHELLE!"

I paused, helpless before her confident onslaught.

"Michelle? Tell you what. If you hurry up and say what I just told you to say? We'll just make you wear a skirt and a blouse. If you argue any more? It's a party dress for you. A really FRILLY party dress! Now? What are you going to do?" She took another step towards me.

I sighed. "I'm a sissy, and my name should be Michelle. Both you girls are beautiful . . " I forgot what else I had to say, but started to weep, just a little. "Please Mary, I'll do anything you ask, but please don't do this."

She pretended to consider, but the glint in her eyes belied any thoughts of mercy she was pretending to have. Pursed her lips. Shook her head regretfully. "Michelle? Now you know you want to be pretty, so please stop making such a fuss. Come upstairs with your new friends - your new BEST friends, Mary and Liz, and we'll play dress up. Now? I want you to smile and be happy about this. If you're not happy? I'll think it's because you want to be prettier, and I'll give you a pretty party dress to wear. Going to smile for me?"

This tormentor was not only going to force me into dressing like a girl, but demanding that I make a show of enjoying it as she did so! I don't know how I managed it, but I did manage a weak semblance of a smile as with one girl on each side, I found myself being led upstairs to Karen's room.

"Isn't Michelle so much prettier when she smiles?" Mary asked Liz.

We had just reached the top of the stairs and a fairly long hallway stretched before us to Karen's room. "Yes," Liz answered. "I'd bet that she's so happy about dressing up that she could just skip down the hallway, to let us see how happy she is. Couldn't you Michelle? Just like a little girl? "

"What a lovely idea! Don't you agree Michelle?" Mary asked me. "Know what, Liz?" she continued. "Seeing her do that would make me feel SO much better!"

"How come?" Liz asked.

"I keep getting this awful feeling that Michelle doesn't really want to play dress up with us. If I saw her skipping happily down the hall? I'm positive I'd feel much happier."

"And you'd really like that, wouldn't you Michelle? Making Mary happy? Wouldn't you? Please say yes!" Liz said.

Totally subjugated, I nodded, knowing that to argue with them now would just lead to further degradation and humiliation.

"That's a good girl!" Liz said. "So take the sides of your pants in your hands and skip down the hall then back - and don't forget to show us what a happy little girl you are by smiling prettily. Off with you now!" And she gave me a light pat on the backside.

And with the sniggering, mocking, laughter of two young girls following me down the hall, I skipped all the way down and back. I was admonished to keep my head up and smile at them as I returned - then they added a new straw of humiliation by singing "Mary has a little lamb, little lamb . ." and making me hum along with them as I skipped. Eyes full, but not quite spilling over, I re-joined them to enthusiastic clapping. It was almost a pleasure to enter Karen's room.

Both girls ran over and sat down on the bed, bouncing with glee, hugging each other and commenting how much fun it was to bully a little sissy - and how pretty they were going to make me. They made me go through all of the clothes that had been hung up for donation to the Red Cross, put them up against myself, and look at my reflection in the mirror. I shrunk inside when it came to the pink party dress that had been mentioned earlier - it truly was the epitome of femininity - all ruffles and flounces - and scads of lace - with built-in petticoats no less. To make matters worse, it was clear that it would fit me perfectly. To loud and disappointed ooohs and aaahs, I hung it back up again.

There were some fairly masculine clothes - a couple of short pleated skirts and shirt blouses, but it was obvious that I was not going to be allowed to wear anything like that. Finally, I opted for a long full, tiered, skirt in a pale lavender lightweight cotton and a buttery white peasant blouse, gathered all the way around the neckline and having short puffy sleeves, that tied with narrow lavender ribbons and matched the skirt.

I was terrified that they'd make me change in front of them for two reasons. The first was that I'd had a major erection the whole time they'd been bossing me around, but the fullness of my apron hid it well. The second - and most important? I hadn't known if I'd have a chance to meet Karen after the training was over - and just in case, was wearing panties. I knew, that if those girls ever found that out, my life would have been made even more miserable!

They did, however, let me change in the bathroom - and it was strange. Even by myself, I felt my own persona become more feminine once I put the skirt and blouse on. Found myself unconsciously pirouetting in front of the mirror - actually pouting girlishly at my reflection. Naturally, I reverted to a more masculine projection when I returned to face the girls, but it didn't impress them very much. Mary shook her head. "You need a petticoat under that skirt - and a bra under the blouse. Liz? Think Karen would object if Michelle borrowed some of her lingerie?"

Liz considered this for a minute. "Don't think so. Karen's not into the frilly stuff too much, so If we get really pretty ones? Probably a sign that she hasn't worn them. Can't see her objecting." With that, she got up from the bed and went to a chest of drawers, started looking through the stuff there.

"Perfect!" she said triumphantly, holding up a frothy petticoat and matching bra. "Here Michelle. Get these on. Mrs. Stoddard will be looking for us soon."

Totally a girl in dress now, I went downstairs with the others. Petticoats swirling against thigh-high stockings, my feet encased in pink ballet slippers, my breasts (facial tissue stuffed into my bra cups) soft mounds under my blouse - and my blouse sleeves tied demurely with the lavender ribbons emphasizing my soft girlish arms. That had been a humiliating experience in itself, one girl on each side commenting on how lovely and girlish my arms were as they each tied one of the bows.

And, to my own horror, I found myself playing the role demanded by the clothes perfectly. Short ladylike steps, arms straight down at my sides, with soft wrists allowing my hands to flare out properly. As my lace hair tie had not matched my skirt, it had been removed. The girls had then experimented for a few moments, then decided on a center part - with both sides of my hair now being held in place by pretty barrettes. To make things even worse, I was actually beginning to enjoy the feel of the clothes and the sensory impact they were having on me.

"My goodness!" Mrs. Stoddard said brightly when she returned and found me chattering with my friends. "What have you naughty girls been up to?"

Not having an answer, I blushed furiously, but Mary spoke up. "It's like this Mrs. Stoddard. Me and Liz were saying how disappointed we were about you not showing us the makeup techniques you mentioned. And Mark - though we call him Michelle now - felt very bad about it. Thought you might not be doing it because of him - so thought that if he dressed up, you'd see that he really wouldn't mind being taught things like makeup and hair care - that sort of thing."

"What a lovely idea!" Mrs. Stoddard said, coming and giving me an affectionate hug. "You look so nice! And now that I'm back - and you ARE amenable? Lets start to make ourselves pretty, shall we?"

I think I surprised the girls - and know I surprised myself when my new persona spoke up. "That would be lovely Mrs. Stoddard" I said brightly before I could stop myself.

Naturally, I was the perfect model, my face being totally clear of any cosmetics, unlike Mary and Liz. Mrs. Stoddard had me remove my apron, but had me replace it with a light blue sateen smock that buttoned fairly tightly around my neck. Then we all retired to her bedroom and I was told to sit in front of her dressing room mirror. Then turned around to face her.

"Well girls?," she said. "I consider the eyebrows to be the anchor, so to speak, of one's facial expression. Now Michelle? If you don't mind, I'll just tweeze a few of your eyebrow hairs to show you what I mean. Would that be alright?"

Again, I was confused. One part of me was internally screaming 'No No No!' while the other - now much stronger part - was blushing shyly and saying. "Of course Mrs. Stoddard."

She was deft and quick with the tweezers. After a few minutes, even the new feminine part of me was starting to worry - she seemed to be removing a lot of hairs. Finally, she stopped, just before I was going to ask if she wasn't nearly finished.

"See what I've done ladies?" she said. "Removed any hairs between directly above the bridge of the nose. This gives each eyebrow a distinct separation from the other. Then, I removed any underneath the ridge of the brow from here to here - that helps flare the eye area and gives an attractive base for eyeshadow. Want to see, Michelle?"

"Oooh Michelle!" Liz said. "You're going to love it!" Strangely, I didn't hear any mockery in her voice, as I nodded to Mrs. Stoddard.

"Well? Turn around and see yourself in the mirror." She said.

I turned totally around and inspected my face. To tell the truth, I was a little disappointed at first, not seeing much of a change, but then it struck me. I looked different - older somehow. More assured looking than I felt - then realized what had transpired. All of my life I'd been referred to as 'cute' or 'so pretty for a boy'. Now? Now I looked like a girl - and an attractive one at that! I turned my head to get a better idea of my profile - and my original impression was reinforced.

I spoke to Mrs. Stoddard's reflection in the mirror. "Thank you very much" I said quietly.

She gave me a quick kiss on the back of my neck. "This is SO exciting! Just wait until we've made you up! You'll be even more adorable!"

I had a vague sense that things were not quite as they should have been as Mrs. Stoddard, Mary and Liz floated around me and various sweet smelling lotions and unguents were applied to my face. I hadn't thought to ask when the training session was supposed to end, but lunchtime was coming up and I'd figured that Karen might be coming home around then. I was curiously ambivalent at the thought of her catching me looking the way I did: excited sexually, but extremely frightened at the same time.

But, nervous though I was, I still picked up on various cosmetics :foundation, concealer, powder, blusher, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lip-liner, and lipstick - what their functions were - and how to apply them. Saw the effeminate young man in the mirror gradually transform into an attractive, confident, young woman.

"Finishing touches Michelle," Mrs. Stoddard said. "First. A little perfume. It's Estee Lauder Dazzling Silver. A little young for me - but should be just about right for you. Like it?"

She handed me a little bottle, taking the cap off as she did so. Automatically, I took a quick sniff. "It's lovely Mrs. Stoddard." I said. "But . .?"

"What's wrong Michelle?" she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"I think he's scared Mrs. Stoddard." Liz said. "Don't forget . ."

"Silly me!" Mrs. Stoddard said, slapping her forehead lightly with her palm. "Of course! I'd forgotten that you were a boy, Michelle! Glad you thought of that!"

I felt a surge of relief go through me, but then she continued.

"Okay! Just put a little behind your ears then. Fragrance always rises, and it'll disappear quite soon. Here, let me show you."

And, to my horror, she placed my forefinger over the tiny hole in the bottle, shook my hand a little then took my finger away. "Good! Now dab just a tiny smidgin behind each ear! There! Doesn't that smell nice?"

Dazed, I took my smock off, then let her put a necklace of white smooth stones around my neck - a matching bracelet - and, naturally, matching clip-on earrings.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Stoddard said. "Let's go and make lunch, shall we girls?"

I'd been thinking that she'd want me to change back immediately the lesson was over, but it was obvious now that this was not her intention. At the same time, by now talking about lunch, it was an indication that the session was nearly over. I could get changed back then - though the idea of perfume bothered me a little. How was I going to hide it from mummy?

But my concerns disappeared in the hustle and bustle of getting our aprons back on, the table set, and lunch ready. Mrs. Stoddard showed us the correct way of making a light savory omelette, while Liz was put in charge of making toast. I made the iced tea and Mary prepared flowers for the centerpiece. It was fun, bustling around, everyone telling silly jokes and giggling.

We were only half way through the meal when Karen came bouncing in with a cheerful 'Hi' for everyone. Suddenly, I felt very shy, because she obviously didn't recognize me. Then it struck her. "Mark? Is that you?" She turned to her mother. "Good grief mom, what have you DONE?"

Mrs. Stoddard smiled gently and possessively at me. "Mark wants to be called Michelle now, isn't that so Michelle?"

I saw the warning glances on Liz and Mary's faces. "Well. Yes. Kinda." I admitted.

"Isn't she pretty?" Mrs. Stoddard said, "Stand up Michelle and let Karen see you."

Blushing furiously, I pushed my chair back from the table and stood.

Karen cocked her head and viewed me. "Gotta admit it, " she said finally. "That outfit looks a helluva lot better on you than it did on me."

"Karen Stoddard! Language! Now go and shower! You REEK of grass. Have you had lunch yet?" her mother said sternly, though laughing at the same time.

"Okay mom. Yeah. Mark's . . Michelle's . . mom fed me okay." With that, she left the room. "Be back in a while, See you gals shortly."

I joined the 'girls' in saying 'Bye' then sat down again to finish my lunch.

We all finished shortly after that and quickly got everything cleaned up. Liz and Mary said their goodbyes after agreeing to meet the following week for the next session, giving me girlish kisses, though their eyes glinted with laughter as they did so. As they left, arm and arm, it struck me.

"Oh Mrs. Stoddard? I need to get into Karen's room."

"Whatever for dear?" she asked.

"Well, my clothes are up there. That's where I changed."

"Oh, that?" she said. "Michelle? I've been thinking."

I started to feel my tummy start to churn a little. "Yes Mrs. Stoddard?"

"Well. It strikes me that you really want to be a girl - and I think it's awful for your mother to force you to dress and act like a boy," she turned as Karen came back into the room whistling. "Don't you?"

Karen blinked. "I don't know if I'd go that far mom. I mean . ."

"When I met you last week wasn't he thinking of going to show his mother how he looked in another one of your outfits?"

Karen licked her lips. "Yes. Kinda. That's what we said .. But. ."

"But nothing! I think it's high time Michelle came out of the closet and spoke to her mother! In fact? Now would be the best time! Let's go! Just give me a minute to do my makeup and get a coat. Won't be long." With that, she left the room.

"What am I going to do Karen?" I whispered.

She grinned. "Go and see your mom Mar . . Michelle. You know? I don't think she'll be as surprised as you think she will. You really ARE pretty, you know?"

I blushed, and she thought for a second. "You know? It might work out for the best. You get to do the housework for mom and your house. I do the boy's chores. Everybody wins!"

I couldn't help it. Walked very slowly over towards her. "Are we still going to be friends Karen?"

"Of course, silly!" she said.

I snuggled up against her. "Give your special friend a kiss Karen Please?"

"Oh. That kind of friend. That what you mean Michelle?"

"Yes darling." I whispered.

I felt her push me away a little. "Michelle? I don't know. I mean you were cute when you were a boy" "But I'm STILL a boy!" I protested softly.

"You're being silly Michelle! I'd feel like a lesbian if I kissed you now!" She paused and examined me closely. "Though I must admit, I find you awfully attractive." She thought a moment.

"Now Mary and Liz seem to have crushes on me as well, and might be a little jealous of you." she added slowly. "But if you were to become good friends to them? Really worked at being one of the girls? I'm sure they'd get over that in no time. We could all have a wonderful time together. But, tell you what. Want to come shopping at the mall with me, Liz, and Mary tomorrow? Betcha you'll have a good time! Maybe your mom will lend you her credit card? You'll need some new outfits, I'm thinking!""



The End