On my computer, I’ve got a folder containing 173 stories that I saved from Bea’s former websites, as well as several that I bought or that Bea generously gifted to me. You’d think then that it would be simple to select stuff to post to the blog, but it can be something of a process. I’m trying to avoid stories that have been posted here before or that are being sold through Mags Inc, since I don’t want to step on their toes, even though most of the shorter stories by Bea that they’ve got for sale can be read for free on the Internet Archive… if you happen to remember the addresses for Bea’s old sites. Personally, I can only remember one, but if anybody recalls the others – I think there were three over the years – I’d kind of like to revisit the site that Bea added some of my drawings to.
At least a couple times,
I’ve landed on a story that seems to fit my criteria, but then I’ll realize
that it was actually written by Rosie, who I assume is capable of posting their
own work without my assistance.
Last week, I was considering
posting Bea’s story “A Position in the Family,” but I checked Mags Inc and
found it being sold there in a book that also contains the story “Paradise
Island,” which I’d never read before, though I discovered I had a copy of it. The premise for “
The reason I bring that
story up, however, is that it led me to realize that I may owe Bea an apology
for implying a few weeks ago that a paragraph in “The Seed Doesn’t Fall Far…” might
reflect a tinge of homophobia. In “
That said, it’s not like I’m
an expert, but I get the impression that Bea’s lesbian characters sometimes conform to
some crude stereotypes, which feels particularly evident in “Paradise Island,” so I don’t
know whether or not I should give Bea too much credit for being ultra
enlightened or whatever. Not to mention
the fact that, in said story, a rather non-PC term for lesbians gets casually
bandied about an awful lot. I know it’s
a word that’s been reclaimed, not unlike “queer” has, and lesbians can
use it to describe themselves, but some might find the frequent use of it
off-putting. I’m not saying that I’m
personally offended; I’m just making an observation about how it seems to date
that particular story. At any rate, it’s
probably silly to attach modern expectations to the writing of someone who is
from a different generation. Maybe it
wasn’t that long ago, relatively speaking, that people felt more at ease using
that term; I can recall an instance when my little sister, back in school, used it as an insult aimed at a friend of hers. Anyway, I’ll
get off my high horse.
Incidentally, this story,
“Frieda,” also contains a couple uses of that word, but the character who utters it is obviously a jerk. I haven’t taken the
time to read all the way through, so I don't have an opinion about its overall quality, but at least I couldn’t find this story
anywhere else.
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FRIEDA
By Bea
One should stay within ones mold. I've been a scaredy-cat, a mommy's boy, and a little sissy all of my life. I was well into adulthood before I tried to break out of that mold – just once, and it got me into nothing but trouble. Okay – maybe some sissies like me wouldn’t want to call it trouble – well not . . maybe not exactly?
I'm fairly well off. Left a good chunk of my money by my mom when she passed away in a train wreck. That, plus the trust that Amtrak was forced to arrange to set me up financially for life. Thank God that it's an ironclad trust that pays my rent and gives me a decent amount of money every month. Otherwise there would be no doubt about me being in trouble. Nobody can break into it. I'm pretty sure that Frieda has tried – but that's another story.
I first saw her - Frieda - in a pizza joint that I frequented. Frankly, I ate so much on my own that I enjoyed the fun and noise of the fast food places, and Vito's was no exception. She was a waitress there, quite thin and petite – probably about sizes with me. But she had this way with the customers – so free and easy, especially around the men – who she flirted with unashamedly. Me – huh. When she served me she didn't pay much attention at all. Maybe it was her lack of interest? (I could say that – but 'lack of interest' defined every woman who had ever crossed my path in real life – so it probably wasn't that).
But I wanted to ask her out SO bad, but just didn't have the courage. Then one night it was very quiet and the manager really got on her case. I don't think he'd have said what he did if it had been anybody else sitting there – but I'm so pale and insipid, I'll swear that people often don't see me. It's like I'm invisible.
She had gone to the jukebox and given it a little kick to see if it would play something for free. I so wanted to nonchalantly hand her a five dollar bill and say "Hey sweetie? Change this five for me – wouldja? Then feed the box with your own favorite tunes" (This was PURE fantasy, me being as scared as I am around women.)
Her kick didn't work and she was scowling back towards me when the manager strode out. He was mad and his voice showed it.
"If I told you once about kicking that box, I've told you a hunnert times. I'd fed up with you, you scrawny bitch. That's it. Fuck off! You're fired!"
Her face lost the scowl and looked frightened. "Hey Robbie? I didn't kick it – honest!" (This was a lie as I'd seen her do exactly that). Then she licked her lips and a cunning expression came into her eyes. She whispered something into his ear.
He stepped back and gave her a contemptible look. "You think you can tempt me with that? Get outta here! Think I don't know you're some kind of dyke? Don't like men? Go on – piss off. You're done!"
"Aw Robbie!" She was pleading now. "I really NEED my money that I'd make tonight! My gi - my friend – threw me outta my apartment and I've nowhere to stay! All my clothes and everything are in a bag in the girls dressing area. I don't have a car. Nuthin'. Robbie? Please? At least let me stay tonight for the tips. And I was gonna ask you if I could sleep in the shop tonight? Open up for you tomorrow? Save you some time? But I need some money – BAD!"
He sneered at her as he shook his head. "Told you. Piss off!" He flexed his muscle. "Want to find out what getting thumped by a REAL man feels like instead of one of your dyke friends? Piss off! If I see you in this place in five minutes, I'll . ."
The pair of them were too busy with each other at this point to see me, but I was on my feet. Swallowing a lump of fear in my mouth, I spoke to him, though I knew that my voice was squeaky.
"Sir? I don't think you should be speaking to the young lady like that!"
The pair of them looked at me as if I'd just sprung out of thin air – which considering that I was probably invisible to them was understandable.
The manager looked at me with a sudden glint of amusement but was pleasant enough as he spoke to me. "None of your business lad. Go away. Piss off. This doesn't concern you."
I found myself talking again. "No. I think you owe this lady an apology."
He sighed. "Son? She's been a pain in the ass since I hired her. I just never caught her, but I'm sure she's short changed my customers a few times. She steals cold cuts from the kitchen – and she's been a pain in the ass ever since I took her on. I'm firing her now. So why don't you just go away and mind your own business? Please? Piss off!"
It was as if she finally saw me. I knew she was looking me over quickly, and felt myself blush as she spoke to me. Her voice had lost a lot of the pleading tone that she'd used before. "Thank you for trying to defend me!" She shrugged her shoulders and pointed at the manager. "I just think that you're wasting your time with him! I'd like to plead with him to let me stay – as I've ABSOLUTELY no place to go, but I think I'm wasting . ."
"If you want to?" I heard myself blurt out. "You could come with ME! I've got a place!"
A look passed over her face and her voice lost more of the pleading tone it had when she spoke to Robbie. She blinked her eyelashes at me as she spoke. "But wouldn't your wife – or girlfriend – object?"
"I don't have one." I said.
The manager laughed and spoke to me as he saw what was going on. "You poor, dumb, shit. Are you in trouble now!" Then he turned to her. Get your stuff together Frieda. Looks like you got yourself a pigeon just at the opportune moment." He turned his back and stalked off after shaking his head at me. "You poor dummy!" he said in parting.
"What a lout!" I said to the girl after he was well out of earshot.
"Let's not talk about him. He's out of my life now. What's your name?" She asked coyly, coming closer to me even though I could see that she was suddenly shy.
"Michael! But you can call me Mike – if you want." I said.
"A lovely name. I'm Frieda. I think I've seen you in here before?" She held her hand out.
"Oh yes!" I blushed, taking her soft hand gingerly. "I've seen you a few times – and I just couldn't sit still for what that man was saying to you. If I was bigger, I'd give him a damn good thrashing!"
She blinked and took my arm. "Tell me about yourself." Then she looked at my table. " I see you have some pizza there you haven't eaten?"
"You can join me if you want. I can order another." I said. "But wouldn't you rather get out of here? I could maybe take you somewhere else?"
She gave me a sleepy stare but shook her head. "I'm starving and I can't think of more fun than to sit here and eat Robbie's pizza – and be a customer instead of a waitress. Think I could have a glass of wine with that pizza?" With that, she took her apron off and threw it on the floor.
"Don't work here no more!" she laughed gaily. "Don't see why I should wear this crummy piece of crap. Let HIM pick it up!"
Instinctively, I knew that she didn't want her action to look as mean as it seemed, so I picked it up and draped it over another chair as she sat down to the pizza.
"Neat little thing, aren't you?" She laughed softly. "While you're up? There's no waitress now – so why don't you pretend to be her and go to the bar and ask them for a nice glass of red wine. Think you could do that?"
"I'd love to!" I blushed.
She fluttered her eyelashes at me and spoke. "Somehow? I thought that. Off you go little Michael!" she giggled and picked up a bit of pizza. I noticed how small and white her teeth were as she bit into it as she watched me hurry away to do her bidding, her eyes holding a sort of mirth.
She didn't want any more new pizza but finished everything I'd left on the platter – more than half the original amount. I really didn't want any more, and put down the fact that she was exceptionally hungry as the fact that she never asked me once if I wanted any more. We did talk though. She was SO interested in me and, as I'd never had an attractive girl show the slightest interest in me, found myself telling her all about myself – how mummy had brought me up – and the troubles I'd had at school and the fact that I didn't work at all. She was so sweet and wonderful. Sympathetic too! She didn't want to talk about herself. Was a little thirsty, so asked me nicely if I'd get her another glass of wine. She finished that quickly with a lot of relish. I normally leave a few dollars for the clean up girl, but she glared at me and pocketed them herself.
"This would have been mine anyway. Don't dare leave anything else for any bunch he replaces me with!" she snapped.
Outside she was very impressed with my little convertible. So impressed that I didn't tell her about the new Mercedes I had coming pretty soon. Asked me shyly if she could drive. Naturally, I went along with her – though I will admit that she scared me a lot by going so fast. I gave her directions but frankly, I was glad to see us both get to my home in one piece. I felt odd when she asked me to lay my head on her shoulder on the way but it felt wonderful to me even though I felt very strange and though she giggled when I did so..
She'd an old suitcase with her that she'd lugged out to the car. Like a gentleman I went to take it indoors into the elevator to my apartment but it was very heavy and difficult. She saved me some embarrassment by assuring me that there was a catch to carrying the case – balance or something – but carried it out of the car and into the flat when we got there. I was ashamed when she seemed to pat my backside as some sort of consolation, but said nothing.
When we got to the apartment, my original intention was to put her into one of the guest rooms, but the door to mummy's old bedroom was open as we passed and she first of all commented how lovely it was and breezed in there. Took a look around, even opening the closets and commenting about mummy's clothes that I'd never removed and about the bathroom. Then she asked why she couldn't use that room seeing that it was no longer in use?
I pointed out that the adjoining door led to my bedroom. "I didn't think you'd want to be sleeping adjoining my own personal room – there's no lock on the doors."
She looked puzzled for a minute, then laughed as she made her way into MY room. "Think I was going to ravish . ." And then she broke off. "What a lovely bedroom! I think I've changed my mind! Could I sleep here instead of using your mummies?"
I was shook, and stammering but she had already taken my confusion as acceptance, come back and hefted her case from the hall corridor through mummies into my room.
"Oh! That bed looks so comfy! I can't WAIT!" she giggled as she dumped the case on the ground – then as she flung herself onto my bed! "Heavenly!" She crooned at me. "Please say you don't mind. After all, it's only for a few days, huh?"
I sighed. Ever the gentleman. How could I refuse? Then she batted her eyelashes at me and I felt rewarded. The poor thing had had such a bad day. Her next words verified this.
"Would you be a darling?" She said to me. "This bed is SO comfy!" She pouted prettily. "And I'm not used to all that wine you made me drink! Think you could unpack for me and put my clothes away. Hang the rest up? I just want to LIE here! Be spoiled! Luxuriate!"
She really didn't have many clothes and I blushed when I had to unpack her scanty lingerie into my own closets, especially as she seemed to be watching me as I unpacked. Quickly I moved some of mine in the chest of drawers and made room for her meager belongings. Put her dresses and skirts on hangers and hung them out. She lay back on a pillow.
"Didn't you tell me that your mummy taught you how to wash and iron?"
For some reason I felt embarrassed as I answered "Yes, of course."
She smiled tenderly. "I'm SO awful at that kind of thing – and I KNOW that my clothes are going to be all wrinkled by being in the suitcase. Could you be my sweet little doll and wash and iron my clothes tomorrow?" She blinked. "I bet you'll know which are the clothes that need freshening?"
She smiled so seductively at me that I didn't want to refuse, but naturally, I felt that propriety should be observed.
"You know Frieda?" I said. "I hate to sound like an old fuddy-duddy. If I had a maid here to do the work I'd agree in a second! But my mummy brought me up to look after a house, so there's just me – and to tell the truth I feel kinda weird now – as I have to take mummies bedroom next door to you. It's not very gentlemanly for a start, then handling your undies and things?" I blushed. "It seems so forward!"
She smiled at me. Made my heart melt. Patted the cover on which she lay. "Come here darling. Sit beside me. I think it's time we had a little talk. Come here now!"
She was being a little bossy, but I knew that it was just to hide her shyness, so I did as she asked.
"I have a confession to make, darling." She said as I sat down gingerly.
"A confession? Ha Ha! What could a pretty thing like you have to confess?" I laughed.
She made a tremulous sigh and looked at the bedcovers. "Michelle? I must admit that I am frightened – SO frightened – of men! They are so aggressive and demanding! So bossy and domineering! Want to control everything!"
I blinked. "Well, you certainly don't SEEM that way, Frieda! But surely you don't think that I'm that way inclined!"
She looked at me and I could swear that a tear trembled on her eyelashes.
"What you see darling? Is just an act! You are obviously the sweetest, gentlest, man I've ever known – and I find myself so attracted to you. But? I'm scared at the same time!" She stroked the hand I'd laid on the bedspread and gazed into my eyes.
I felt myself swell with pride. Here is this gorgeous creature admitting that she's scared of me – ME – and my manliness! Naturally, I tried immediately to have her change her way of thinking.
"Frieda? You are just being SILLY now!" I said avuncularly and patted her hand. "I'm no raving beast – and I can assure you that I hold your honor in the highest esteem! You are perfectly safe around me!"
She took my hand fervently in hers. "Oh DARLING! I know this is sudden, but I have this wonderful feeling already that you are going to be the man of my dreams!"
I blushed deeply and started to protest, but she cut me off.
"Can't you SEE? I think that you may be the man who will teach me how to overcome my fear – my DREADFUL fear – of masculine things! Teach me how to love you! Would that be possible?"
"Do you really think I could?" I asked hopefully.
"Perhaps!" She said, suddenly cool, withdrawing her hand.
I responded. "Perhaps? Just teach me what you want dear Frieda, and I will do that! Whatever it takes!"
"It might be very difficult…." She began, some hopeful doubt starting to show.
"I don't CARE!" I said grandly.
"Well?" She said, settling back. "You see? Having our bedrooms next door is as much for me as it is for you." She looked like she was trying to blush. "If you're next door – and available to me? I MUST learn to overcome my weak, womanly, cravings for your body as I become attracted to you! That is essential!"
"I see!" I said gravely. "I hadn't taken your wants into consideration at . ."
"Just like a MAN!" she said bitterly.
I actually smote myself on the forehead! "I'm sorry, darling Frieda! I'm starting to see what you mean! My sincere apologies!"
She took my hand again. "You're forgiven my darling! But your nearness is a test – for ME. What I would like – no, what I'd EXPECT you to do – is basically a series of tests for YOU! That is why I asked you to do my laundry!"
"Huh?" Was all I could say.
"Can't you SEE darling? If you start performing things for me – that are generally done for the male by the female? Then you begin to show me that you don't have the false pride, normally associated with men!"
"I'm afraid I don't quite see . ." I started.
To my surprise, she pulled me to her and, once I was in her arms? She kissed me! Just like that! Even showed surprising strength by pushing me back afterwards so that I was lying on my back on the bedspread and looking up into her eyes.
"You LITTLE silly!" she teased as she smiled down on me. "Say that you did my laundry and ironing? Don't you think that would impress me?"
"Oh?" I said doubtfully.
"And say – just say – that you were to make breakfast for me tomorrow morning and bring it in on a nice tray? Don't you think I'd LIKE that?"
"You would?" I looked up at her.
"Of COURSE! Though I'm not trying to sway you in the slightest!" She kissed me slowly again, and I felt my skeleton melt.
"I could do that!" I said forcefully. "Used to do it for mummy!"
"Bet that you wore pretty little aprons too!" she smiled.
I shook my head. "Matter of fact? I don't remember doing . ."
"Silly! If you're going to DO a job? Don't you believe in doing it right?" She kissed me again. "Dressing properly?"
I was dazed and in a sexual trance. "You want me to serve you while I'm wearing an apron?"
I could feel her pull back. "Only if you WANTED to! Only if you wanted to show me that you didn't CARE about a manly appearance!"
"But I don't know where mummy kept . ."
"If you CARED – couldn't you LOOK?"
"OH Frieda! I keep on apologizing. But all of this stuff is so new to me! Please forgive me! I know that you must be tired!"
She tightened her grip in my hand. "Michelle? I can SEE that you're trying to shed the masculine image that . . ."
"Frieda dear? It's Michael!" But I smiled softly as I said it.
She shook her head prettily. "See what I mean dear? As Shakespeare once said. What's in a name? I'll admit that I was trying to see what your reaction would be!" She kissed me softly again and I could feel myself melt once more.
"Aw dear Frieda! I keep screwing UP – don't I?" I said, almost weeping with frustration when she let me go.
"Want to be - my Michelle?"
It was different. Not what I felt that I wanted, but she sounded so desperate! Know what I mean? "If that's what you truly wanted?" I gasped.
This time, her kiss was long and tender. I was gasping for air by the time she let me go. "Don't you see, you silly little pussy cat?" She purred. "You are doing wonderfully! You are starting to see that if you shed some of this male image, I will find you more and more to my liking! Don't you see that by doing little things – washing my undies – wearing nice pretty aprons – serving me? Taking on a girlish connotation to your name? That you're raising yourself in my esteem all the time?"
I was dazed and confused, but answered. "I think . . think . . so?"
"Come to my arms – my pretty Michelle!"
And I snuggled in and upturned my lips to my smiling Frieda. This time, she was definitely more demanding. Looked quite possessive when she finally withdrew.
Later, still dazed, I went to the chest of drawers. She was lying in her back, looking at me with cat-like eyes.
"What are you doing – Michelle?" She cooed as I opened a drawer.
"Getting a pair of pajamas to wear tonight." I said and, with a flash of humor. "Seeing as there isn't any of my stuff in my new room."
She cocked her head. "I don't know – for sure – but didn't your mummy leave some pretty nightgowns?"
"Oh, I'm sure she did but . ." Then her implication hit me. "Oh Frieda! I couldn't!"
"May I ask why not? Or am I being sexist?" she asked sweetly.
I tried to laugh. "Don't you think you're carrying this too far Frieda? I mean – wanting me to put on my mother's nightwear? She did have a young taste in clothes – but…."
"I don't remember suggesting that exactly." She said smoothly then added. "I guess I was just testing you dear." She smiled again although she seemed to frown as she added. "Though this time? You might have failed miserably."
"I hope I didn't disappoint you Frieda?" I found myself asking.
She frowned again thoughtfully. "Maybe a little? But then, I may be asking far too much of you?" She changed the subject. "Will you remember to bring me breakfast in bed tomorrow morning? I'm feeling very tired. The idea of such depravity appeals to me."
Glad to be on firm ground again although I felt she was being a mite ridiculous, I nodded. "Of course! Sounds like it's just the thing you need. Anything you'd like?"
"A few eggs, scrambled. Orange juice. Toast – buttered. Black coffee?"
I felt she was being kinda overbearing, but to tell the truth – I felt that she wanted me. At the same time, felt that I wanted to get my feelings known. Bowed deeply from the waist. "Anything else madam? I asked in my plumiest English-butler tones. Sarcastically of course.
She took me seriously! "No. I don't think so Michelle. "I'll let you know! Off you go to bed now!" She was at her imperious best now, so I didn't think it wise to argue though I did smile once I was away from her. Poor little thing! So in need of my strong reassurance.
Before I went to bed that night – in mummy's room – I checked and Frieda had been correct in her assumptions. There WERE aprons amongst mummy's things. Not practical perhaps, a bit more showy than anything else – but they were there. I was tempted to lie and say later to Frieda that there weren't, but knew that I was a terrible liar and had the feeling that she would find me out. Somehow, I didn't want to imagine the fracas that might follow. Accordingly, I looked out a rather nice full, coral-colored apron. A bit frilly and ruffled for my taste but probably sure to appease my new friend.
I was a mite embarrassed the following morning at wrapping the apron around me and felt distinctly silly when going into the kitchen. Mummy HAD brought me up properly though and I was soon embroiled in the making of Frieda's breakfast – after knocking on her door of course and making sure that my timing was okay. Admittedly, I was surprised to find out that she was not only awakened by me knocking on her – my - bedroom door – but she was waiting for breakfast, maybe even a little impatiently – but that was all right I guess. I smiled to myself. The poor thing obviously wanted some spoiling and I hoped that I wouldn't let her down.
I was extra careful in preparing her breakfast and made sure that the napery was white and crisp and that the tray was elegantly turned out. When I backed into the room at her command, she clapped happily.
"Oh Michelle! That apron looks lovely on you. Now why don't you put the tray down, and come and fluff up my pillows at the back? Then you can serve me in bed."
I felt a little foolish doing this as her rather full breasts were hanging from her lacy nightgown, but she didn't seem to care as I arranged the pillows at her back and she sat up.
"That's such a pretty apron!" she commented as I put the tray on her lap. "And? You've done a lovely job of my breakfast."
"Thank you." I blushed. "I wanted you to like it. Anything else you'd like me to do?"
"You blush so nicely too dear." She laughed. "But no. There's nothing I see right now that I need you for. So just stand there, okay?"
"Huh? Stand here?"
She looked at me, a little aggravated. "Of COURSE! Stand there until I'm finished or need something else. Do I need to tell you? For heaven's sake! And for goodness sake, stand properly! Straighten up! Put your feet together and cross your hands over your apron front!"
Her tone was not to be argued with. Chastened, I found myself straightening up, putting my feet close together and crossing my hands obediently. I knew that her eyes were fixed on me but could not meet her gaze as I did as I was told. Finally, I couldn't bear the silence any more and looked across at her. She was waiting for me. Smiled and nodded at my meekness, then started in on her meal as I lowered my eyes in a docile manner again.
She broke into my reverie a short time later. "Michelle?" She asked gently.
I looked up guiltily. She had finished while I had thought to myself.
"Don't look so guilty, my little darling!" she laughed. "I just had to comment on how wonderful you've been! I KNOW that acting the way you have can't feel natural for you, but you really have been very sweet!"
I knew that I had actually been degraded, yet still blushed redly with abashed pride at her amused compliment.
"Are you finished with that tray Frieda?" I asked quickly to hide my mortification.
She smiled sweetly. "Not yet darling. I'll let you know when you can take it. But I was just thinking?"
"Yes?"
"Was that apron you're wearing the only one that your mother had?"
I shook my head. "No. She had quite a few."
"Would you go and get them. Bring them here?"
"What for?" I asked.
"Michelle? PLEASE?" She was a little aggravated.
"Okay." I shrugged and went and got them. Returned to face her.
"Thank you dear," she said, pointing. "That green one. Pretty, isn't it?"
"Yes. I guess so."
"Don't you think it would go better with what you're currently wearing?"
I looked at her, suddenly crestfallen with an awful idea of what was about to happen . "I guess so. I don't know for sure."
"Why don't you just try it on, huh? Model it for me?"
I paused.
"You have a problem dear?"
"A little." My mouth was dry.
"Kinda pretty for you? All that chiffon and stuff? Almost girlish?"
"It IS, kinda. Frieda? It is awfully feminine?" I knew that I sounded defensive and guilty.
She shook her head gently. "That's why I'm pressing you darling! A little test, between you and me. Now, you've been VERY good! Don't fail me now! Put on your pretty apron! C'mon now!"
Sighing in resignation, I stripped off the apron I was wearing and put on the green one – over my head – then adjusted the straps.
"Don't be silly now! A nice, full, bow!" She warned. "Just like you had before!"
"I had a nice bow before?" I was quite surprised.
She smiled. "Aha! See? Your mother probably taught you rightly – and you didn't even notice! Now? Don't you think that the green apron is much prettier? Much more becoming?"
"Y . .y . .es. I guess."
She beamed. "Darling? I'm well aware that your male synapses are all screaming at you – but just think of how nicely you're making ME feel! So warm! So protected by a man – all MAN – who I know objects to wearing pretty girlish clothes – but doesn't MIND – because he knows that it makes me feel better."
I found myself smiling weakly at her. "It does feel kinda strange Frieda!"
"Of COURSE it does! But want to make me feel REALLY special?"
I blushed. "You know I do!"
"Cross your heart and hope to die?"
I had to smile at her childishness. "Of course!"
She actually pouted at me! "Well then? Do it then. Cross your heart and promise!"
Smiling at the little girl lying in front of me, I put on a serious face and used my forefinger to cross my heart. "I want to please Frieda! Cross my heart and hope to die!"
She beamed. "Can you squeal – squeal nicely? Your voice is quite high?"
"Squeal? Like this?" I said and squealed.
"Not BAD! Not bad at all. A little softer – more like a young girl? Squeal again – okay?"
I squealed and she nodded approvingly. "Now squeal – just like that – and fluff up your apron skirts so that they bell around you. Them being chiffon and all they should make a pretty picture!"
"Huh?"
"Michelle? Do as you promised!"
It took me a few blushing tries before she was satisfied. "Is that it?" I asked, totally mortified.
"No darling!" She laughed. "That's the hard bit! Just a little bit more!"
She really didn't want an awful lot – and after the fuss I had made about putting on the effeminate apron I could see why she wanted me to do what I did so I finally went along with what she wanted.
Squealing in pretended happiness, I fluffed up my apron, then pirouetted nicely – my apron skirts floating now. Then, my face flaming, I curtsied her deeply, my hands on my apron skirts – and asked "Miss Frieda" if I could take her breakfast dishes.
She looked on me regally. "Yes dear, you may move the tray – but lay it somewhere then come and stand by the bed here."
Totally dazed by what was happening to me, I did as she said then went and stood by the bed.
She smiled at me. "Notice dear that you're standing properly now? All soft and subservient with your hands crossed over your apron?"
I hadn't really noticed but nodded in agreement. She was absolutely correct.
"Good! Now keep standing, just the way you are, but move closer to the bed."
Puzzled, I did as she said. Then, still smiling at me, her arm snaked out over the covers, and her hand was lifting my apron skirts and touching my genitals!
"Is that a man thing I feel?" she sighed softly, her hand on my erection.
"Please Miss Frieda?" I apologized. "I can't help it!"
"I understand completely!" She sighed as she undid the zipper on my pants and her soft hand found its way inside my pants to then work its way inside my boxer shorts. "I know that you have a man thing and you just want to do the typical thing! Put it inside me! Push and thrust!"
"Honest Frieda! I try NOT to be that way! Honest!" I pleaded as her delicate hand worked its way around my penis. Stroked it softly.
"I can tell Michelle," she said ruefully. "You are trying SO hard and I appreciate it. But you can see why I get so frightened. This sign of your aggressive maleness! What can I do?" She stroked me a little more as she thought. Then she said. "I have an idea!"
"What can I do, Frieda?" I panted.
"Nothing my little darling!" she said excitedly. "That's the beauty of it! You just stand there, just as you are! Don't move a muscle!"
"Huh?"
"Don't you SEE? If you stand there all sweet and receptive – instead of being all pushy like a male? We are both seeing that you are trying your absolute best to make me feel safe! So just stand still there my darling. Keep your hands crossed over your pretty apron and your feet together. That's IT!"
So I stood there trembling as she gently stroked my penis, asking me how I liked being the receiver instead of the donator. Didn't I like it – and wasn't my apron just the thing for me to be wearing? Did it feel pretty? My eyes glazed over and I mumbled incoherent words pleading for mercy as I could feel myself begin to surge, unwilling to mess myself, yet powerless to move away or even hold my own penis to stop the spurting as she wouldn't let me.
Then she laughed gently and for some reason seemed to be holding both my undershorts and my pants over my spurting member, though holding my apron skirts out of the way and teasing me about the mess I was making as I ejaculated. I was so ashamed, but she made me keep standing there until she had squeezed out every last drop of semen.
"Naughty Michelle!" She teased. "All finished making your mess?"
"Yes Frieda. I'm sorry!" I mumbled, unable to raise my eyes from the carpet.
"I'll forgive you." She said. "Go into my bathroom and clean yourself thoroughly. Take those messy underpants and pants off. Okay?" With that, she allowed my pants to drop to the floor and pushed my shorts down to below my knees. Gave me a sharp spank on my bare backside. "Off you go then!" her voice was full of fun, but the slap stung.
I started to pull my clothes back up into position and head for the chest of drawers.
"Where are you going?" she asked me, getting out of bed.
"Get clean clothes?" I said.
"Is THAT what I told you to do?" And she gave me another supposedly playful spank on my backside. But it hurt!
"Ooooh!" I said, rubbing my sore backside. "Frieda! That hurts!"
"Why don't you do as your told! Hurry up!" And she spanked me again! Laughed loudly!
"Frieda! Have you any idea of how much that stings?" I started, but she was advancing on me, smiling but her hand raised to spank me again. "Oooh Oooh Oooh!" I wailed as I waddled into the bathroom, my clothes around my feet as she giggled behind me. I mean, I knew she wasn't trying to hurt me – probably didn't know her own strength – but knew at the same time that I was close to tears so hurried into the bathroom, cursing my sissy ways as I did so. After all a MAN – almost crying at a young woman's playfulness!
I was wearing a polo shirt, which didn't give me much protection, but my pants and underpants were a gooey mess and I couldn't wear them again so I shucked them off. Then I washed myself thoroughly in the cool water, then dried off, very conscious of my red backside on my white delicate skin. Wrapped a towel around my waist, picked up my soiled clothes and went back into the bedroom. Frieda was waiting for me, her hands at her back.
"Let me see darling! Let me see that you're nice and clean. Drop that skirt you're wearing. Come along now!"
"It's a TOWEL Frieda! Not a skirt!" I said huffily.
"Well then! Pull it down – arrange your apron skirt if you're that modest – and you don't mind me calling THAT a skirt, do you?"
She was quite intense, so I did as she said, well aware that my chiffon apron was just like she said - now more like a soft, flowing, skirt than anything else.
"Much nicer! Now come here and let me see!" she commanded. "Put your hands on your hips while you're at it!"
I paused in consternation. "But WHY Frieda?"
She didn't answer my question, instead she smiled and asked. "I've read somewhere that when a man wears something feminine he feels weakened. Is this true?"
"I don't know Frieda." I answered honestly after a seconds thought.
"You don't consider that pretty apron as being feminine?"
"Oh that? I guess so."
"And you don't feel feminine? Just a touch maybe? I mean, it looks like you're wearing a skirt now. A lovely green, chiffon skirt?"
I blushed. "I guess I do, now that you mention it."
"Maybe you feel weaker then?"
"I don't know. I guess."
"Well then? Want me to come and find out if you really ARE weaker? Or do you want for Frieda to come and – OH! Hands on hips please! That's it! Little short steps please?"
Blushing furiously now I mince towards her and, feeling my apron skirt waft around me and know full well that I look feminine. She holds up a hand to stop my advance when I'm right at her then, still looking at me straight in the eye, lifts my apron to reveal my naked groin! Horror of horrors! I have another erection!
"Aren't you ashamed?" She asks sternly. "Have you no shame?"
"Frieda? I'm sorry. I can't help . . "
"Showing another tendency of your masculine self? Even though you KNOW it frightens me?"
"I'm SO sorry Frieda!"
"You KEEP saying that! But let's face it – I have you in the closest thing to a skirt and acting nice and feminine – yet you STILL get this – this – erection! Aren't you ashamed?"
I hand my head and mumble that yes, I'm very ashamed.
"Well then!" She says, and I can hear her voice lighten. "Look what Frieda has got for you to wear! Will help stop all of this nonsense!"
I lift my eyes and she has brought her hand from behind her back. In it she is wearing a pair of light blue, heavily laced, women's panties and a bright yellow pair of satin shorts.
"Just the thing!" She chortles. "I'm SO glad that your mummy had a sense of fun. Aren't these clothes just so CUTE? Lots of other lovely things where they came from too! Now just get them on yourself for Frieda! The shorts have great big feminine buttons too – so fun loving! I'll help you with them if you want."
I heard myself moan. "I can't wear those Frieda! This is TOO much! Please!"
She smiles softly and confidently at me. "Silly little thing! Of COURSE you can! Now just step into your panties! Lovely things, aren't they?"
She holds them out to me and for whatever reason, I don't know, I take the soft things from her.
"But WHY Frieda? There's no reason!"
"Silly! I wouldn't ask you to do this if there weren't would I? Now just step into them, nicely and easily?"
"There is?" I ask childishly, holding them down and stepping into the panties one foot at a time.
"Yes! Now you must admit that there is nothing masculine about your panties at all, is there?" She asks this while helping to lift and adjust the panties about me.
"No. I can't say that those are masculine at all Frieda!" I admit with a shamed voice.
"Now? Those pretty satin shorts. Lovely – aren't they? Just what girls LOVE to wear!"
"But Frieda?" I murmur as the shorts are now being pulled softly up my legs. "You still haven't told me the reason."
"Silly!" She laughs as she buttons me in. "You know that I am SO frightened of masculine things. Silly, I know. But even I'll have difficulty thinking of your penis as being masculine now – can I? All cocooned in soft and lacy panties – then lovely satin shorts over them? Now let me untie your pretty apron – just for a minute until we can see your new outfit!"
And now she was easily pulling me along, my green shorts in her hand, until we were standing in front of a full length mirror.
"Wasn't I right?" she gloated. "Those clothes fit you like a glove! Now straighten up! Look like you belong in them!"
I looked at first, the commanding figure she made, all smiles and confidence, then at the shivering weak, effeminate creature in her grasp. His soft face matching his shame and the soft satin pants, cunningly tailored to flare out from the hips giving him a feminine waist, the large, playful white buttons only accentuating his soft, womanly, body.
"Now! We can't stand admiring ourselves all day – can we?" She cooed. "Let's get your apron on – then you can go and do your work. Okay?"
About that time, I started to try and protest what she was doing to me. "No Frieda! Please don't! This is too much!" and I tried to wave the apron away with my hands.
In the mirror I saw her grin. "Silly little Michelle! Now do as Frieda tells you. No?" Slowly and tantalizingly she came at me, with the apron held wide.
Weakly I said. "Please no Frieda?"
"Hush dear!" she said sympathetically as she tied the apron around me, then adjusted it a little.
"Was that you being right on the point of being naughty?" She was talking to me as a mother or aunt might talk to a little girl. I found myself responding in the proper way.
"Maybe Mommy Frieda. I tthhink tho? But I widn't mean it!" I heard the soft lisp in my voice.
"Well? We can't have that, can we?" She asked kindly pulling me gently towards the bed.
"What aw you doooing moommmy?' I whimpered.
"I never spanked a man before. Especially one wearing mice lovely satin pants and silky panties before," Frieda asked gently. "But I think you need it. Think you will like it?" She was sitting on the bed and pulling me to her.
"Pwease don't mommy? Michelle'll be good! Honeth!" I asked tearily as she gently took me over her lap.
"But it's for your OWN good! Be a good girl and admit that before I take your shorts down and Frieda won't be so hard on you!"
"Mutht I mummy?
But Frieda's voice changed a little at this point. Lost the teasing tine. "Oh DARLING!" She said. "You are being SO wonderful! All for me! I can't tell you how MUCH I appreciate what you're doing!" She was still adjusting me over her knees.
"Huh?" Was all I could think to say.
"Think I don't know? A big strong man like you, letting me dress him in pansy women's clothes, put him over my knees and pretending that he's a soft little sissy – just to make me happy! Lisping – like a little girl!" She gave me a light spank. "Think I didn't know? Couldn't see how wonderful you're being?"
"Oh?" I thought quickly as she spanked me lightly once more. "Thath's pewrfectly all wight!"
"Lovely!" She laughed, "You imitate a little girl so WELL! But do you think you could maybe squeal a little more? Like a little girl? Kick a little as if you didn't like what I was doing?"
And so, just to please her, I lay struggling on her lap, kicking and squealing softly as she spanked me, ever so gently. She was even more delighted as I cried real tears of shame when she took my shorts down and spanked me on my frilly panties. Finally, she stopped.
I could feel her smile down on me. "Well! I know that you're doing all this just to please me, but you've got all sorts of work that you need to be doing. Want to start your housework, don't you?"
"Yes Frieda," I said. "I have lots of work to do!"
"Very well then! Why don't you go and wash your face and tidy up. Don't want anybody seeing those tear marks and thinking that Frieda isn't good to her little girl, do we?"
"Oh no Frieda!" I agreed, only too glad to get away from my shame and humiliation – but how she giggled when I let out a little squeal as she spanked me lightly to send me to the bathroom to clean up.
I swallowed mightily when I came out, cleaned up. My hair is quite long and she swore that it was improved by the green satin ribbon that matched my apron – and the bow that she showed me how to tie. I really didn't agree with the lipstick she took some care with, but had to agree that sissies would just LOVE such a thing. Finally, I minced off to do my maid jobs, knowing full well that this was what I was now, my lipstick in my apron pocket with instructions to keep my mouth pretty at all times.
I guess that the next few days were educational. Frieda took my credit card – just for fun of course and found that nobody – but NOBODY – could make any kind of a transaction without my fingerprint. She was so PLEASED! Then took me with her – just as a test of course – and delighted in letting me buy her all sorts of things. Was so happy when she discovered that I could buy just about anything – but if it had to be shipped – went through a mess of controls and could only be shipped to my house.
She was not annoyed in the slightest. The fact that she wanted me to stand in lady's boutiques and hold up undies and dresses against myself were strictly to enforce her NEED for my growing femininity – and who could blame the serving girls there for mistaking me for a girl? Frieda had gone through a nervous period that I could not understand – but after all the work I had done in getting rid of her neurosis – what could I do?
Mummies clothes fitted me just fine now – Frieda had found some lace-in corsets that gave me the hourglass figure that was necessary and I now wore panties as a daily routine – it didn't make sense to wear anything male under the black silk dresses and white aprons that designated me as her maid and made her feel so much better about my masculinity. She now enjoyed sex with me ALL the time. Well – not exactly sex – but close.
Okay – she was still nervous about me being a man – but if I stood, nice and quiet, while she slowly fondled me under my petticoats and panties as I gasped and made a mess of myself, she admitted that she was gradually learning to accept my masculinity. Naturally, as this was extremely hard for her. I learned to wear nothing but pretty lingerie under my dresses – and at night wear lacy nightgowns – while letting her roll my hair into fashions that were more suitable for what I wore. She was SO happy! She actually came to my bedroom once or twice and took me. Naturally, I was underneath when she made love to me – and had to answer to the name of Michelle – but I knew she was making progress. She LOVED it when I pretended to be her girl! She was gradually learning to like MEN! Men, just like ME!
Then – things changed. Naturally, as she pointed out, I HAD to learn. Masculinity was so much against change – so dogmatic – as she often pointed out. So one day when she rang her little bell and I went in and curtseyed to her (She enjoyed that SO much) she looked up from her magazines and chocolate.
"I'm expecting a friend – my therapist – very soon. I HOPE that you will try and not appear too masculine? I KNOW it's difficult for you?"
"I hope not Mistress!"" I answered, curtseying in my black dress, well aware of my crinkling crinolines. "I will try to be properly feminine."
"It might help?" She suggested. "That outfit is rather prim and proper – if you wore a mite flashier petticoat? My therapists name is Stella and as I'm sure she appreciates feminine things, she may be a little biased against you if you are TOO masculine."
"More feminine? That what you mean ma'am?" (She loved me to address her this way)
She smiled and stroked my cheek. "You lovely thing! Read my mind! A little more makeup perhaps? A touch more perfume? Show a little more petticoat? Sway a little more when you walk?"
"Oui Mistress!" I answered, and grinned. She just loved it when I not only dressed – but acted - as if I were a French maid!
I made it a point to mince away from her to do her bidding with my skirts swaying, happy to hear the sound of her satisfied giggle knowing exactly what I was going to do.
I had been shy at answering the door when Frieda had first started converting me but now felt totally at ease when I went there a short time after dinner that evening.
"You must be Michael?" The rather stocky woman in jeans asked me when I answered the door.
I was nonplussed for a second, being unused to be addressed in this fashion now, but smiled prettily at her as I curtsied.
"Yes Miss." I said. "Can I take you to see the Mistress?'
She looked at me with her calm gray eyes. "I really don't like to be referred to as Miss. As you can see, I'm somewhat masculine in nature and dress – so you can either address me as 'Sir' or Stella. I'm not proud."
"Oh, I'm sorry sir." I said.
She smiled and patted my cheek gently. "Much better. I hadn't known how pretty you'd be. Now take me to Frieda please."
She followed me to the room where Frieda sat. Naturally, I knocked on the door, then ushered Stella in and was about to close the door when Frieda told me to stay.
The met each other with a fairly long kiss then Frieda broke it off. Gestured at me.
"What do you think of Michelle dear?"
Stella smiled. "I can see why you have difficulty in remembering he's a male. From our talks on the phone, you hadn't told me what a pretty girl he makes. You've really done a fantastic job in such a short time."
Frieda preened. "Oh, I can't say it was ALL me. Michelle has adapted beautifully. I'm hardly scared of his manliness now." She blinked at me. "It's just every so often I remember – and - and I get scared again!"
"There, there, Frieda!" Stella said sternly. "You'll have to get over this fear!"
"I know darling! I KNOW!" Frieda almost sobbed. "I feel that I'm very, VERY, close! That's why I've asked you to come here for a few weeks. To help me!"
I blinked. This was the very first I'd heard of Stella coming to stay with us. Nevertheless, I was heartened. Frieda was now admitting openly that she was very close to accepting me. Okay, strangely, I was becoming more and more used to the feminine clothes and makeup I wore all the time now, but that didn't mean that I wasn't ALL man! I was doing it all for her sake. I knew that Frieda and I might have a problem in her adjusting to me, once I regained my natural state of masculinity – it might even take a little while – but I was prepared! Naturally, I didn't show any of this on my face.
"Well darling? I don't know if I can spend a lot of time with you here." Stella was saying calmly. "I have other things to do. You're aware of this, aren't you?"
"Please darling!" Frieda begged. "Michelle and I will make you VERY comfortable. Won't you Michelle?"
"Oh yes ma'am!" I said, smiling and curtseying. "But where would you want sir to sleep?"
"Silly girl!" Frieda laughed. "Why in with ME of course! She obviously will only have a limited time with us – so I want her to spend every minute that she can, helping me! Surely that's obvious – even to a silly girl like you?"
Of course there was sense in what she was saying, but I'll admit that I was a little huffy about it all – and it wasn't helped by the fact that Frieda told Stella that I wasn't strong enough to carry in her suitcases! Mind you, I was secretly pleased by this as the luggage was big – although Stella didn't seem to mind, lugging those big suitcases in to Frieda's bedroom. Then, naturally, it was my job to unpack and freshen up the creased underwear and stuff that Stella brought but I must admit to feeling a little out of sorts as the two of them kissed and cuddled on the bed as I unpacked Stella's stuff. Okay, it made complete sense that they were really glad to see each other again, and when Stella explained how much Frieda needed me to flounce and mince as much as possible while I acted as if I was the maid – but, I mean to SAY! How would YOU feel, primping and mincing around a bedroom in a pretty maid uniform, while your girlfriend laid there on the bed and pretended to gasp and get all horny in the arms of a masculine woman?
Of COURSE I knew they were testing me, but I did not give in. I was the softest, most effeminate male that Frieda could have asked for! Of course it was embarrassing when Stella finally admitted that she could not believe that I was acting a part so well – and to prove it, Frieda had me stand up at bedside and let Stella lift my uniform skirts and petticoats and stroke my erection under my panties. They both laughed most kindly and commented on my pretty blushes – "I never KNEW a boy could feel so pretty!" Stella said as Frieda let her have a shot. "Such a pretty penis! Feels SO pretty in panties!"
Later on, towards the end of the evening, I was just getting ready to go to my bedroom, when Stella appeared. She spoke so quietly that I recognized that Frieda was asleep. "Come here you darling!" She said, opening her arms. "You have been SO wonderful for my patient, that I feel that I must say my thank you!"
Naturally, I felt all wrong. After all, I was still dressed and made up as a pretty maid – while she was almost the picture of a young male in her plain robe and pajamas with her hair slicked back after a shower – a sort of role reversal if you will. And I must admit to a sort of strange feeling when she took me into her arms – as if I were a GIRL – for heaven's sake! But somehow, it felt quite nice and she explained how - that I felt so much like a girl – she naturally, treated me like one! I could feel myself blush as she kissed me and said how pretty I was. Even – silly me – found myself getting quite sexy!
The following morning, I did everything she suggested! Spent a whole lot of time on my makeup and smelling pretty. Wore my sexiest uniforms to prepare breakfast – even practiced my walk so that I would be as feminine as could possibly be expected when I knocked on the bedroom door and said that I would be bringing in breakfast in ten minutes. Knew from the giggling inside that I was absolutely on time.
When I did mince in with their breakfasts, both women were propped up in bed and their arms around each other. I noticed that Frieda hadn't cleaned off her makeup the night before – as a matter of fact, she may have had more on than usual – and I must admit to being a bit jealous when I saw how it had been all mussed up by Stella who was wearing what looked to be a LOT of Frieda's smeared makeup. But they both smiled nicely at me and commented how pretty I was. Naturally I blushed but had to admit that I was pleased at the fuss – and how they TEASED me!
But Stella noticed that I was a little put out when I started to put the trays down.
"I think that Michelle is a little jealous?" she commented to Frieda.
"NO!" Frieda said. Then she spoke to me. "Please dear? Stella is only trying to help me! Please understand!"
Stella spoke to Frieda first. "You can't BLAME Michelle dear. She wants to be your MAN so very much and gets jealous when she sees that I have been trying to let you find out that a masculine approach – even performed by a false male like me, is acceptable." She fixed her calm gray eyes on me. "Isn't that right Michelle?"
I pursed my lips. To be quite honest, I was confused, but what she said sounded right. Found myself flouncing my skirt and pouting. "Well? I don't know! But she's MY gal you know!"
"Silly!" Frieda broke in with a fond smile. "Stella's just giving me an inkling of what a girl has to put up with when a male comes along . ."
"And I'm just a beginner!" Stella broke in. "As a matter of fact Michelle? Maybe you could help me? Being a real, true, man? You could let me try my technique out on you." She got quite excited. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong?"
"Mmmm. Stella? I'm not so sure that I like that idea." Frieda broke in. "After all, Michelle is my man! I'll admit that I get scared of him if he's too macho – but the idea of seeing him be yours? I don't know if I could NOT be jealous!" She pointed a finger at me. "Now don't you be getting all upset at MY jealousy!"
She couldn't have been more wrong if she'd tried. I was so swollen up with pride at the idea that Stella wanted ME to show her how a man behaves! I could literally feel my penis stand under my panties and petticoats. On top of that Frieda was admitting how jealous she'd be! I was absolutely beside myself with pride!
"Well? It's not like I'm a professional instructor – or anything like that!" I said, though even I could hear the pride in my voice.
"Oh? You wouldn't have to do a thing – not a solitary thing!" Stella said. "I wouldn't even TRY to have you act like a man – not after all the trouble you've gone to prove that your feminine side is lovely. You'd just have to pretend to be my girl for a little while. Then? After we were done? You'd be nice enough to tell me what I'd done wrong. That's all."
I could feel myself blush. "But I don't know what to do? Don't even know where to start?"
Her voice was soft and seductive. "Easy, you pretty little thing. Put your breakfast things down, take off your high heels and climb up on bed beside me." Stella smiled." Then she saw me hesitate. "Don't be silly. Come here!"
"Act like I'm your girl?" I asked shyly.
"Of course pretty! Now come to Stella!"
Frieda giggled and moved away from Stella. "Move in here in the middle, why don't you Michelle! I won't interfere one little bit! Take your heels off and climb up here between us. That’s a girl. Honest! I'll be quiet! Won't say a word! I KNOW that you're both trying to help me!"
I kicked off my heels – and I must admit that I felt kinda funny, crawling up in between my real girlfriend – and another girl who wanted to act like a man – though she needed my help in that respect. She smiled at me and opened up her arms.
"Come to me, pretty Michelle!"
Naturally, I knew that we were both acting for Frieda's benefit but it WAS strange, my nylon thigh highs rubbing against my thighs, the silky material of my uniform rubbing against my petticoats. It may sound silly – but I'll SWEAR that my false breasts were pushing against my lacy bra! It felt SO nice too, to be putting myself into Stella's arms. Almost natural.
"Where have you been all my life?" she asked as I settled in.
"You don't mean that!" I giggled as I (acting a part of course) pouted my lips.
She kissed me, putting a strong arm around my shoulders and pulling me in.
I couldn't help the 'oooh' that escaped my lips as I felt myself melting into her arms.
"Isn't Michelle GOOD?" I heard Frieda say. "He acts just like me – when I'm in your arms Stella!" She seemed to be leaning over us, looking fondly into my eyes. Smiling fondly at me as I pretended to give myself to Stella.
"Yes! But it's all an act!" Stella said, fondling my breasts, and kissing me softly. "He's just acting the part of a love-struck young girl! Isn't that so? My Michelle with the pretty soft eyes?"
I couldn't help it. Snaked my arms around her neck and raised my lips to kiss her. My voice seemed to be gone now. All I could do was look at her.
"Such pretty soft, arms – just like a girl!" Stella was acting all strong now. "You my girl Michelle? C'mon Michelle! Admit it!"
"Yes!" I hissed – acting of course – but rising up and down as her hand caressed my penis – every so often touching the lace embroidery around my groin. "I'm your girl! Want to take me?"
"That's my girl!" Stella was saying and I was flat on my back as she pushed my skirts and petticoats up, pulled and my panties down – as I gazed up at her, totally subservient as she mounted me, gradually fitting her soft moistness around me, her hands pinning my soft white arms to the bed as she started to thrust.
"You my girl Michelle?" She asked, towering above me, slowly humping up and down on me.
"Oh yesssss Stella!" I wailed in excitement, thrusting my body up and down.
"I'm your MAN?" She was asking me softly.
"Oh yessssss!" I found myself crying out - and then I came.
I may have slept for a little while, but then I came to, with Stella and Frieda leaning over me.
"Did I do all right dear?" Stella was asking me.
"Oh yes." I said for lack of anything else.
"Did I play a good man? You were the BEST at pretending to be a girl! Honest! Jumping up and down and kissing me! Honest! I'd never have known that you were a guy! I've had girls that weren't anywhere near as nice as you!"
"You were awfully nice!" I said softly, knowing that my eyes were dreamy, "You sure I was okay?" I felt the nice blush rise to my cheeks, and cast my eyes down shyly.
"YES!" Frieda pretended to pout in answer. "You acted just like a girl! All dreamy eyed – and asking for more!" She giggled. "You were supposed to be teaching Stella how to be manly. Maybe you should have been trying to show me how to be a girl!"
I found myself blushing. Swatted her lightly with my soft hand. "Oh Frieda! Stop being such a tease!" Blushed even more when I realized how much like a girl I sounded, but luckily she didn't seem to notice.
She was lying beside me now, rearranging my undies and my dress slowly. Kissed me slowly, then raised her eyes. "Stella? Disappear for a while, would you? Michelle and I want to talk. A little girl talk? Okay?"
I was surprised when Stella took the hint and disappeared. Frieda kissed me softly again on the cheek once we were alone. "Was Stella nice?"
"Aw c'mon Frieda!" I blushed and tried to joke. "That would be telling!"
"Don't be silly. I think he's SO dreamy. All strong and muscles. Just taking me in his arms makes me get all weak and moist down there. Don't tell me you didn't feel the same! Come on now – the truth!"
I felt so HOT! Burning up! But knew I had to say something. "Well – he needs practice as a man I guess – but he was nice. Acted as if he were strong really well."
"Yeah! He acts strong almost as well as you acte weak!" Frieda giggled. "You blush so prettily Michelle!" she added. "Admit it now. You enjoyed him!"
I hung me head. "Yes. It was kinda fun,"
She giggled. "Thought so." Was all she said.
The next day or two was strange. Frieda was so NICE to me! Sure, she liked me to brush her hair and – she got this strange desire for me to BATHE her – kneel at the bathtub and sponge her all over. Have great big warm towels for me to dry her in and powder her – naked – as if I didn't care for her in a sexual way. But she'd confide in me. Blush like a little girl and slowly tell me how she felt – she got all red – when Stella wore this HUGE dildo. "Well? It isn't as if I knew she was a MAN!" She confided in me. "But it IS so satisfying!" She'd sigh. "Fills me ALL up! Know what I mean?"
And she was always asking me how I felt around Stella – almost as if I were a girl that she was sharing secrets with! And she was always coming around when I was changing – suggesting that I wear this lingerie – or that. That I use this makeup or that. To be honest? It was as if we'd reached a different level? Friends more than sexual partners? Would often demand that she make me up on nights when we'd be close to Stella – and she'd DO it too! Make me all sexy and alluring. Make herself up as well.
Then it happened! I mean –it wasn't as if it was MY fault! Okay, I had this gorgeous blue evening dress on – a chiffon stole no less. But it was HER that suggested what I wear and my makeup. Even I had to admit that I couldn't have looked sexier if I tried!
The three of us got together after dinner and someone – Frieda? - turned the music on.
"Like to dance with me Michelle?" Stella was asking, standing in front of me.
I blinked up at him – her. I'd had a few wines too many perhaps, but I think I was sober. "Surely Stella!" I said and got up and melted into her arms.
It was SO nice. Music soft and dreamy. Her strong arms around me. The soft and sensuous smell of my own perfume! Lovely.
THEN? Frieda was in MY face!
"Leave my boyfriend alone, you slut! He's MINE!"
"Huh?" was all I could manage.
"Dressing all pretty. Making yourself look and smell nice! Think I don't know WHAT you're up to? Some girl friend you are!"
I was completely astounded and couldn't answer her. It was Stella that saved the day.
"Frieda?" she said calmly. "Michelle hasn't done a thing – not one THING – to deserve this from you! She's acted like a complete lady! Soft and sweet, without an eyebrow out of place! I think you owe her and apology!"
Frieda stared at me, her eyes now puzzled. "Oh Michelle! I'm SO sorry!" She cried. "It's just that I'm all mixed up! One minute I see you as a boy – and I get all frightened of your masculinity! Then the next minute, I see you as just another girl – trying to steal Stella away from me! Looking so soft. Acting all alluring!"
"Frieda darling?" Stella took a hold of her arm. "This is something you MUST solve! I think you see me as your boy friend? But your feelings for Michelle are all mixed up! You must see her – him – as your lover! One way or the other!" She turned to me. "Don't you agree Michelle?"
"Oh yes Stella!" I said. "She should see me as her boy friend! As the MAN in her life!"
Frieda looked at me. "You don't look very much like a man dear – in that pretty dress – smelling so nicely? High heels?
I felt myself squirm. "But isn't this what you wanted?"
She grinned. "I think I wanted a nice big strong male – and Stella filled that bill." She shrugged prettily. "But a girl always wants another girl to be her friend. Isn't THAT what you are, Michelle? My girlfriend? Soft and pretty? Someone I can talk makeup and fashions with?"
"Ha ha Frieda! Stop kidding!" I felt myself redden, because she was describing exactly what our relationship had been.
"Not kidding darling!" she said to me, and turned to Stella. "I think that Michelle and I better establish who the boss girl is between us – don't you think? Got a dildo I can borrow?"
"A WHAT? I asked her.
She looked at me and shrugged. "Well one of us has to be the guy – and I don't think it's you!"
"But you've always been scared of men!" I was positive now.
"Can't think of too many MEN in blue dresses, high heels, and lipstick." She was quite calm and collected.
In the meantime, Stella had produced a rather strange looking belt and a dildo. Handed it to Frieda. Gave a sort of half grin to me.
"I can see her point dear. She's all confused and wants to fix out which of you is the girl. It's that simple. This way you're both even. Both got pricks." She shrugged. "Hers is a LOT bigger than yours – though you have a more natural one. I think she wants to find out which one of you is more of a girl than the other one. That's all."
"But you always said that you were scared of guys!" I protested to Frieda as she advanced towards me, a big thing bulging under her dress now.
"You silly little sissy!" she laughed. "ME? Scared of guys? I just LOVE their big, hairy bodies and the strength of them. Me? Scared of you in your panties and dresses? Letting me call you Michelle?" She stopped and lifted her dress to reveal the large dildo poking out at me. "Come here pretty and get down on your knees. Suck it good and tell me how much you like giving it blow jobs. I might not stick it up your ass then. But you'll have to really LIKE it! Come on now Michelle!"
"No Frieda! You're just TEASING!" I said, hating how weak and girlish I sounded.
She smiled gently at me. "Yes. That's it. I was just teasing! Come here and give me a kiss and I'll tell you how sorry I am!"
"Honest?" I asked warily.
"Would I LIE to you?" She grinned. "Come to daddy Michelle!"
"I took a tentative step towards her.
"That's a girl! But pout those pretty lips, huh? Swish that skirt. Let me see those pretty legs!"
I stopped again. "You ARE being mean Frieda! Stop it!"
She looked astonished. "Me? But you ARE making me mad Michelle. All I'm asking for is you to show me how much you care. Now do as I say – and come here!" She smiled at Stella as I pouted my lips and swished my dress as I moved towards her.
"Isn't she just the prettiest thing?"
"Oh, stop it Frieda!" I blushed as I got to her and she took me in her arms, then kissed me. It felt strange though with the big thing in between us.
"Can't you take that thing off now Frieda?" I asked gently.
"Okay! Okay! But first? I think you should give it a goodbye kiss!"
"Oh stop teasing Frieda," I giggled, but she had me by the shoulders now and was forcing me down onto my knees. I was trying to get up, but she had a hold of my hair and was turning my face up to hers. She was a lot stronger that I cared to admit.
"Come along Michelle! I think you're just being shy! Now if you don't want a good spanking? Lift my dress and give the dildo a kiss. Just a quick, short, kiss! That's all!"
"Just a little kiss?" I asked.
She didn't answer – just pulled my hair and forced my hair into her bulge! "Hurry up dear! Get a move on!"
Both Frieda and Stella started to laugh as I raised her skirt and slip over the bulge. It was a bit of a problem, but I finally managed. The big purple thing stuck up into the air a bit. Quickly I kissed it. Looked up at Frieda. "Okay?"
She shrugged. "A little quick. You know, that was hardly a kiss at all. How about another?"
"Oh Frieda!" I sighed, then kissed it again. This time slower. It wasn't pleasant by any means, but I managed. "Can I get up now?"
"Much better!" She sounded pleased. "But…?"
"But?"
She looked guilty. "It was just something I forgot. Do you think you'd mind?"
I sighed patiently. "What?"
"It's just that your lipstick is all wrong. If Stella gets it for you – do you think you could maybe put on a nice, bright, red shade? Nice and thick and pouting? Just for me? Please?"
I looked into her shining eyes and think I knew, even then. But hoping against hope, I softly agreed. Then a little while later with my mouth made up like a whore, I kissed it again. But then – helplessly – I did my lips again, and took the thing into my mouth – and sucked . . .
"You see darling?" Frieda said a little while later. "You are becoming SUCH a nice girl. SUCH a friend to me – a REAL girlfriend – that I hate to give you up. You comfy darling?"
"I guess." I said, my face down on the bed.
"Lovely! But I felt – feel – that you should know how a real girl feels – and this is the closest thing I can do! This lubricant? Feel all right?"
"Do we have to do this?" I asked tearfully.
"It won't be too painful darling. I'll take it nice and slow. After I'm done? You and I will be SUCH good friends – girl friends! I'd almost bet that you get to love Stella – and I won't mind. Comfy?"
"Yes Frieda!" I wept.
"Good girl! Just spread yourself a little wider. There!"
And I felt her enter me.
The end
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