Side Saddle

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SIDE SADDLE
By Pentatonic

It was a perfect late spring day. The temperature was not too hot and not too cold. The sun was shining brightly. My uncle and I were in his pick-up, towing a horse trailer, on out way to his sister and brother-in-law’s farm. Uncle Bob didn’t like the interstates when pulling a trailer with a horse in it, so we were meandering our way on “blue highways” from Uncle Bob’s farm in south Will County, Illinois to Uncle Bill and Aunt Jane’s farm in east central Indiana.

My name is Brian, and I’m 17, about to enter my senior year in high school. I’m only 5' 8" and 130 pounds. As I had in the past, I spent my summers as a farm hand for one or both of my uncles. I wasn’t large, but working on a farm all summer meant that I was deceptively strong, as some of the school bullies found out to their dismay.

Each of my uncles and aunts farmed about a section of land, and grew corn and beans for cash crops, along with hay for the horses. Yep, horses. Depending on what month it was, Uncles Bob and Bill each had three or four horses. I would say that the steady horse population of the two combined was maybe seven and one-half horses. From time to time, one or the other would “horse-trade” one or more horses with each other. My Aunt Jane confided that shifting of horses was really an excuse for the two of them to get together. I wondered why they just didn’t live closer, but Aunt Jane had inherited her farm and was a died in the wool Hoosier. She just couldn’t abide with living in Illinois. On the other hand the soil on Uncle Bob’s farm was some of the most productive in the nation. Neither wanted to move/

I live with my parents in Joliet, but I liked being an volunteer farm hand. Both uncles and aunts have teenage daughters, and I enjoyed hanging around with them and their friends. Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary have two daughters: Alice who is a year older than I am, and would head off to college at the end of the summer. Her sister, Judy, was a year younger. Their friends were in the same age span.

The best part of the summer was the horses. I love horses.

So, after school let out for the summer, I loaded up my car and headed down to Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary’s place. After getting settled in, my cousins and I grabbed a pocketful of carrots and headed off to he horse barn, just to say hello.

Goldie, my favorite horse remembered me, or maybe just the carrots, and gave me the horse version of a greeting. My cousins and I then went into the tack room and got saddle blankets, saddles and all of the other stuff, saddled up three horses, and went for a ride.

“Dad has a long list of things he wants you to do this summer,” Alice announced with a gleeful smile, “a lot of which includes shoveling horse manure.”

I smiled in return. One part of horse riding includes taking care of the horses, and taking care of the horses includes mucking out the stable. To me, it was just part of having horses, and I really didn’t mind it. “Are you sure?” I replied, “I wouldn’t want you deny you the pleasure.”

“I get enough of it during the rest of the year. It’s your turn now.”

“I saw that you guys have some new horses. They’re pretty big. What’s the deal?” I asked.

“Some guy had them for hayrides and other stuff. They really are draft horses. Dad has them here to help the guy out. Seems he hurt himself and can’t take care of them himself.”

“Does that mean that you harness them up every once and a while?” I asked.

“Yeah. Dad got an old farm wagon, you know, all wood, with wooden wheel spokes. It’s behind the barn, Dad wants us to fix it up and paint it. We can use those horses to pull it. They came with their own harnesses and tack.”

“Yeah, and we want to see if you can get the horses to back up to let you harness them up,” Judy said with a smile.

Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary’s farm is a whole section of land, a square mile, or 640 acres. That means there are plenty of places to go with the horses. After a circumnavigation of the farm, we went behind the barn to look at the wagon. It looked like something the pioneers would have had. The iron tires were rusty. The paint had long ago flaked off, and some of the wood needed replacement.

“Let’s see if we can get an area to work in, some place near an electrical outlet for saws and drills. I’ll ask your dad if I can use the tractor to move it.,” I said.

“Why don’t you use the draft horses?” Judy asked, “after all, that’s what they’re there for. Or maybe you can’t handle it. Just admit it and Alice and I will do it for you.”

With that type of challenge, there was nothing to be done but to do it myself, After moving it to a clear area near the garage, I started by removing the wheels and greasing the axles. It was obvious that it would be a real job getting the wagon back into shape.

Over dinner, uncle Bob announced that he and I were going over to Uncle Bill and Aunt Jane’s for a few days and asked if anyone wanted to come along for the ride. I really like my Aunt Jane and uncle Bill, so I had previously volunteered. I was a little surprised that neither of my cousins wanted to go, but it appears that they had made other plans.

Uncle Bob explained that he was going to take a horse over to Uncle Bill’s place, and would bring back one of Bill’s horses. “Are you sure neither of you girls want to go?” uncle Bob said. “Your uncle Bill has picked up a side saddle and a 10 year old mare, and I though that you girls might want to learn how to ride side saddle.” This was met by a look of disgust from my cousins

So, the next morning found Uncle Bob and me in his pick-up with a horse in the trailer. It wasn’t all that far to Uncle Bill and Aunt Jane’s place, and we were there well before noon. “Tell me about this side saddle,” Uncle Bob asked Uncle Bill, “When I mentioned it to my girls they said it was degrading to women or something like that.” He turned to me and asked, “Do you think it’s degrading to women?”

“How would I know, I’m not a girl. What I do know is that arguing with my cousins on things like that is a “lose-lose” situation. My uncles nodded their heads knowingly and chuckled softly to themselves.

We walked into the tack room in the barn, and there it was, all by itself on a frame. It had no fork, horn or raised cantle like a western saddle. It was more like a half of an English saddle with a couple of things poking up on the left side which I later found out to be the top pommel, also known as a fixed head, and a lower pommel also known as a leaping head. There was only one stirrup, and it was on the left side. “I bought this horse, and the saddle came with the horse,” uncle Bill said. “It also came with some Victorian riding habits, you know, tight jacket, corset, enormous skirts, the whole nine yards. I’ve convinced Jenny to try it out, and there will be an instructor coming out tomorrow. It should be fun to watch, so why don’t you plan to stay a couple of days?”

I knew from past experience that Uncles Bill and Bob liked to have some beers when they didn’t have to drive, so staying a couple of days was common.

The next morning, a glum looking Jenny was slouched against the wall of one of the horse stalls. She was eyeing the saddle with suspicion. An hour later an older woman named Mrs. Benson arrived to begin the lessons. Jenny wasn’t into it, and neither Mrs. Benson nor Jenny seemed to be getting anywhere.

After about a half hour later, the instructor looked at me, eyeing me up like some livestock. “How tall are you?” she asked. “What’s your weight?” I answered that I was 5' 8" and 130 pounds, not that I was proud of the fact that I was one of the smallest boys in my class at school.

“Look,” she said, “I planned on being here for about an hour and to teach someone to ride side saddle. How about you?” she said, pointing a riding crop at me.

“But I’m not a girl,” I protested.

“No one said you are,” she responded. “Learning to ride side saddle won’t change that. The horse certainly doesn’t care.”

“If I do, I’m not wearing any dress,” I complained.

“You’d look darling in one,” she said under her breath. “You only wear a skirt after you learn to ride,” she added.

“I’ll learn as long as no dress is involved,” I asserted.

“But how about the corset?” snorted Judy. I just glowered at her.

“The only thing you have to wear a riding helmet,” the instructor commanded. “You can leave your pony tail out or tuck it in under the helmet,” she added. I didn’t know at the time that she was contemplating how my hair would look in a french roll.

“Come here,” she commanded. “Stand on this stool, and put your left foot into the stirrup, she said. “You can lift yourself up and sit astride, and then lift your right leg up and over the horse.” I did as she instructed.

It became obvious how the pommes are used. My left leg went under the lower one. My right leg went over the upper one, and my right calf and foot laid against the left side of the saddle in front of my left leg.

“Now rock backward and forward,” the instructor commanded. “You always need to face forward, and balance your weight. Moving backward and forward makes sure that you are sitting facing forward and not sideways. Bad posture can cause all sorts of problems.”

The instructor then handed me a light cane. “You use this as a substitute for not having a leg on the right side of the horse. She then led me around the corral. “You’ve ridden before?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I responded, “but never on a side saddle.”

The lesson ended with me practicing getting on and off the horse. “Look on the internet for instructions on riding side saddle,” the instructor said, “and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

“Uhhh,” I responded and looked at my uncles. “I may have to go back with my uncle Bob before then.”

“You can stay here for some time,” Uncle Bill said, “I don’t think your aunt or cousins will mind.

“Yeah, but I only brought one change of clothes,” I said.

“We’ll figure something out,” uncle Bill said.

The rest of the day involved some fairly hard and grimy work. By supper time, I was covered with dirt and smelled just as bad. When Aunt Jane saw us approaching the house, she stopped us short of the door. “You need to go into the mud room and clean up before you come into the house,” she commanded. The mud room had a concrete floor with a big floor drain. There was a hand held shower attachment on one of the walls. Thankfully it had hot water.

The activities planned for the next day involved the pond. Years before, a small stream which ran through the property had been dammed, creating a pond. The top of the dam had an overflow which had deteriorated and eroded and needed replacement. Working with an earthen dam and water always results in mud. A lot of mud. A lot of slippery mud.

Yes, I slipped on the mud and ended up in the pond, providing mirth for all present.

I squished and dripped my way back to the house. Aunt Jane met me at the mud room door with a big towel. “Get out of those wet things, and have a warm shower.”

“How about my clothes?” I asked her.

“Oh my,” she replied. “I didn’t wash them yet.”

“You don’t have to wash them, I can do it,” I stated.

“Yes, but what do you wear in the mean time?” she asked. Both of my uncles are large men, and none of their clothes would fit me.

Our conversation caught the attention of Jenny.

“Brian and I are about the same size. He could borrow one of my jeans and a t-shirt.”

“What about underwear?” my aunt asked.

“He could borrow a pair of my panties. No one will know.” she suggested with a huge grin on her face. “I bet we could even find a pair of shoes.”

I didn’t like the way this was going. “I can just wear a towel or blanket until my clothes are done,” I suggested.

“No,” my aunt said. “Go with Jenny and find something to wear.”

With a wicked grin on her face, Jenny took my hand and pulled me upstairs to her room. The commotion had caught Anna’s attention, and she invited herself into the process of finding something for me to wear. They seemed to be enjoying it way too much. I was presented with a pair of panties. Pink. “Don’t you have anything in white?” I asked.

“Just put them on and stop whining,” Anna said. “You’re whining like a girl, so it’s appropriate that you wear pink panties.” I just grunted, and put the panties on under the towel. I was surprised how comfortable they were.

Next came a pair of jeans, and I put them on. They obviously were girl’s jeans, and the fit was a little off. Then came a top. Not a flannel work shirt, not a plain t-shirt, but a girl’s top. This was followed by a pair of white tennis shoes. Jenny and Anna stood back to admire their handiwork. “Not bad,” Anna commented. “Come over to the mirror and see for yourself.” I declined the invitation.

Jenny was studying my head, with obvious disapproval. “Your hair is a mess. Let me get my blow dryer and do something about it.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I responded, but to no avail. I was pushed down into a chair in front of Jenny’s vanity, facing away from the mirror, and the two of them attacked my hair with blow dryer and brushes.

They finally finished and told me to turn around. I was aghast. The image in the mirror looked like a flat chested teenage girl without makeup. “Let me get Mom,” Anna suggested.

I let it be known that I thought that was a terrible idea, but just at that moment my aunt was passing the door, and heard what was said and came in. “You look very pretty, a lot like your mother when she was a girl,” was her comment.

“But I don’t want to look pretty or like my mother, at any stage of her life,” I complained.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you are pretty.”

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and I saw Anna with her cell phone, taking my picture. “We ought to send this to your high school for inclusion in your yearbook.

“NO! Stop this,” I yelled.

“Quiet,” my aunt said, “or your uncle will want to know what’s going on.”

“Anyway, it’s just about time for dinner, and your clothes won’t be ready in time,” my aunt explained.

So, I hung my head and shuffled down to the dining room. My uncles found it hilarious. “If you hadn’t decided to take a swim in the pond, this wouldn’t be happening,” uncle Bill said. Anyway, you look kind of pretty.” The last thing I wanted to do was to look pretty.

It was my habit to sleep in my underwear, but Anna thought that a nightgown was a better option. Thankfully I won that argument.

A side saddle lesson was scheduled for the next morning, and Mrs. Benson arrived exactly when the appointed time came. Jenny was not slumped over like the previous lesson; no, she and Anna were both alert and smiling.

“Ok, who’s riding?” Mrs. Benson asked.

Both Jenny and Anna pointed at me. I shook my head to register my disagreement.

“We can deal with that later. What you three need to do is to learn how to saddle the horse.” she said.

“All of us know how to saddle a horse,” Jenny suggested.

“But not side saddle,” Mrs Benson said firmly. “If it’s not done properly it can harm the horse, and be dangerous to the rider.” So we all gathered around and put the saddle on and tool it off until we could do it to Mrs. Benson’s standards.

“Okay, now is the time to ride.” Mrs. Benson grabbed my by the hand and led me to the stool. It was then that she saw my tennis shoes. “Those won’t do,” she said, “don’t you have some boots.”

“I took an involuntary swim in the pond yesterday, and they’re still wet.” I explained, seeing an out.

“Let me look at what we have,” suggested Anna. “I’m sure I can find a pair that will fit.”

“There’s always the boots which came with the riding habit,” Jenny commented. “They might fit.”

“Just find a suitable pair of boots,” commanded Mrs. Benson.

Unfortunately the girls decided that the boots which came with the riding habit were the best fit.

For the rest of the lesson, I learned how to trot side saddle, and by the end of the lesson I had some new aches and pains.

It was disclosed that uncle Bill had promised the Mayor of the county seat that he would provide a girl riding side saddle for the Founder’s Day parade at the end of July. It was decided that I would stay through the next week and then maybe I could teach Jenny or Anna enough for them to sit on the horse for the parade while I led it.

There was the problem of clothes. If I were to be there for the next week and a half, I needed more clothes. Aunt Jane called aunt Mary, and she agreed to come over for the weekend, and as it turned out with her daughters. Now I had to deal with four teenage girls.

When I practiced side saddle riding, I had my own fan club of my four cousins along with various friends, male and female, who found the idea of a boy riding side saddle to be great entertainment.

As time progressed, it became clear that Jenny wasn’t going to ride side saddle. After she fell off of the horse, it was decided to abandon the attempt to get Jenny to ride. It came down that either I would ride or there would be no side saddle riding since Alice was too big to fit into the riding habit. This made uncle Bill rather unhappy, since he had promised to provide a side saddle rider for the Founder’s Day parade and didn’t want to go back on his word.

I would have liked to say “it was a dark and stormy night,” but it wasn’t. It was a gray and drizzling morning, a few days later and both of my aunts and my four cousins were sitting in the living room. In the center of the room was a dress dummy with the riding habit on it. There was a long skirt; an “apron” it was called, because it wrapped around to the right and the wrapped part was fastened with a button in the back. It was unbuttoned when the rider was on the horse to cover the rider’s legs. It was accompanied by a short fitted jacket over a self tie white blouse with a big bow in the front. There was a vest under the jacket. On a table was a little top hat with a veil, a corset, a corset cover, a chemise, a pair of white drawers, like bloomers, with ribbons and lace at the bottom and some stockings. The boots were under the table.

I was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee with my uncles. I really think that Uncle Bill was feeling badly, having put me in this situation.

Aunt Jane came into the kitchen. “It’s time to start,” she said. Come with me upstairs.” Thankfully my cousins were not invited to this part of the proceedings. She had drawn a bath and put bath salts and other concoction in the water which bubbled and smelled awfully girly.

“You need to use this hair remover. While nobody should see, you do need to remove the hair from your body, so you can feel the part. I just stood there mutely, while she handed me a container of hair remover. “Go into the other bathroom, spread this everywhere below you head, wait fifteen minutes, and wash it off in the shower. Then come back into this bathroom and soak in the bath. I did as I was told, and when the bath water started to cool off, I got out and wrapped a towel around my waist. Aunt Jane saw this and said, “Put the towel below your arm pits and just above where your boobs would be, if you had any, and put on these panties.” She called the panties ‘control panties’ and they were a bit tight, but allowed me to conceal my private parts between my legs. She then gave me a white garment, like a slip, which she called a chemise. Next, she handed me the drawers, which I put on. This was followed by the corset. “This will feel tight, but you will get used to it after a while.” It was tight, but it drew my waist down to a more or less hourglass figure. The top of the corset pushed the skin of my chest together giving me a slight cleavage. Aunt Jane enhanced this with a bunched up stocking in each cup of the corset. She then put on the corset cover, to hide the corset. She then told me to sit, and she put on a pair of stockings, and then helped my with the boots.

She helped me down the stairs, and into the living room. I felt very self conscious in front of my aunts and cousins just wearing women’s underwear which was fashionable more than a century ago. I heard some snickering, followed by my aunt Mary telling my cousins to stop, which put an end to the mirth.

Then came the moment of truth. The skirt was removed from the dress form and put around my waist. Surprisingly, with the aid of the corset, it was able to be fastened. Then I was helped into the blouse, and a big bow tied at my neck. Then followed the vest and the jacket. My aunts fussed with each article of clothing, using tailor’s chalk to mark alterations. The hat and veil were put on my head, and aunt Mary told me to walk around the room, and into the kitchen. When my uncles saw me their mouths dropped open is surprise. “Well boys, how does she look?” aunt Mary asked. I wasn’t wild about her use of pronouns, but let it pass. “Give it a twirl,” she requested, and I did.

“Ok Brian. . .” She faltered. “We can’t call you Brian, dressed like that. How about Brianna?”

“Okay.” I squeaked.

Once in the living room, Aunt Mary told me to take off the jacket, vest, and skirt, which I did. My aunts converged around the sewing machine and began to make alterations. My cousins stood there, touching the fabric, and making little noises of wonder and appreciation. “How does it feel?” cousin Anna asked.

“Different, not good, not bad, but different.” I admitted. I did not tell them that I enjoyed it; I didn’t think they would understand. “With this corset on, I get a better understanding of Womens’ Lib.

This brought a chuckle from them. “Way to go, sister,” cousin Jenny said.

“You know, you should be wearing this and riding the horse,” I commented.

“Yeah, but you do it so much better than I could,” she replied.

When the alterations were complete, I put the skirt, vest and jacket back on to check the fit. My aunts declared that it was just about perfect.

I turned to go back upstairs and to change. “Wait,” cousin Alice said. “You need to practice feminine deportment and wearing heels. I have some things that you should wear to help that.”

Alice produced a garter belt, panties, a bra, stockings along with a skirt, blouse and shoes. “Here, put these on. It’ll make you feel more feminine.”

“But I don’t want to feel feminine,” I complained.

“Oh yeah?” she questioned. “Looking at you all dressed up, you really looked happy. I think you like it, don’t you?”

I didn’t want to admit it, but I did like it.

“Get dressed, and we’ll do something about your hair and makeup. I think you’ll like that too.

“How about a french roll?” suggested another cousin.

“She’s got the hair for it,” commented Alice. I didn’t say anything about her use of a feminine pronoun. If the truth be told, I kind of liked it.

The cousins attached my hair and makeup with a vengeance. I put on the clothes they had selected, and stood up to look into the mirror.

“Oh-oh,” said Judy. “She should have kept the control panties on.” There was a noticeable bulge in front where there should be no bulge.

“Come here,” commanded Alice as she led me to the bathroom. “Do what you boys do to get that down, put it between you legs and then put on these control panties.” I didn’t like my cousins knowing what I was doing, but I followed instructions. After I put on the control panties, there was no bulge. With that smoothed out my skirt. “In the future don’t forget the control panties,” she warned.

The next day it was decided that I should wear the riding habit to practice getting on and off the horse, and actually riding the horse wearing the habit.

When Mrs. Benson arrived for the lesson, I was fully dressed in the riding habit, except for the helmet. My hair was in a french roll. I liked the way I looked, and I wanted to impress Mrs. Benson.

She was impressed, and examined me up and down. “I was right, a french roll really looks great on her,” she said to herself.

It turned out that getting on and off the horse wasn’t a problem, with the exception a show of my knickers from time to time. “A little flash of linens really interests the boys.” added Mrs. Benson. “I bet you’ll have a lot of offers for dates after the parade. By the way, you seem more feminine and refined than you did before. How did you do that?” she asked.

“I dress as a girl every chance I get, and my cousins find great joy in my ‘girl’ lessons,” I said. I didn’t add that I actually liked it.

“Well, it seems to have worked,” responded Mrs. Benson.

Founders Day finally arrived. The parade would start at the parking lot of the community church and proceed down Main Street to the courthouse square. There was a color guard from the VFW, the high school band, some convertibles filled with local dignitaries, followed by a collection of local organizations, antique cars and tractors, a float or two, two carriages, and lonely me sitting side saddle on a horse.

We were able to get the now freshly painted old wagon and the team to the parade. Anna was going to drive the team, and she was wearing a long skirt and a blouse with big sleeves. Her hair was in a braid. My other cousins rode in the wagon along with a few teenage boys.

I wore my habit, with the top hat and veil. The Mayor was so impressed that he moved me up to the front of the parade, behind the color guard, band, and local dignitaries.

The parade moved slowly, so I was able to show off doing some fancy riding and getting the horse to go backwards from time to time. The whole parade circled the court house square, where a dias had been set up like a reviewing stand.

When the parade ended, I found myself directly in front of the courthouse and the dias. My stool, which I needed to get off the horse, was in the wagon, a way back. So I sat on my horse and smiled.

I have found that most girls love horses, and at the end of the parade, I had a crowd of them around me. It took a lot of effort to keep them from getting hurt until some of my cousins came to rescue me. Rescue me from the little girls, that is, but not from the teenage boys. It was as if my habit and the horse, along with my cousins were a boy magnet. Mrs. Benson was right, I had my choice of boys. When this all started, I said I didn’t want any attention from the boys. Well, that changed.

I scanned the crowd for my aunts and uncles, and found them right across the street from the courthouse door. But the were not alone. Right next to them were my parents. OMG! It seems that one of my aunts had invited them.

I was finally able to alight from my horse, with only the minimum flash of my kickers and I buttoned the apron of my skirt behind me. The mayor came up to me and invited me to stand on the dias. Like a refined lady, I took the mayor’s hand as he helped me up the stairs. The dias was a bit crowded, with the local dignitaries and the Founder’s Day Queen and her court dressed in formals. I wanted to stand in the back, out of sight, but the mayor had a tight grip on my hand and I ended standing right next to him.

The Mayor had a few remarks and welcomed everyone to the Founder’s Day celebration. He introduced all of the dignitaries, and finally turned to me. “I want to express my thanks to the beautiful Brianna and for her display of horsemanship, or maybe I should say ‘horsewomanship’.” This was followed by some applause and more than a few whistles. Thank goodness I had my veil on, so no one could see me blush.

The mayor then announced that there were several tents set up selling food, and a collection of booths and invited everyone to partake. At last I was able to get off the blasted dias, again with the help of the Mayor. I walked over to my horse and held her reins. All around me were people with cameras. I hadn’t thought about that. The Mayor came back to me and said that some people wanted pictures of me on the courthouse steps, and with as much grace as I could muster, I let the Mayor help me up the stairs.

There was a reporter from the local paper with a photographer. “Can you take off your veil, Honey, so we can get a picture of your pretty face?” I complied. This was followed with more pictures.

At the end of this, my parents came up to me. My mother had an enormous smile on her face. “I always knew that you are beautiful, but now I have proof. Let me get a good look at my ‘daughter’.” My father didn’t look happy.

My period riding habit drew some attention. Quite a few women cam up to me, full of questions. I explained how the riding habit came with the horse and side saddle. I told them that my underwear was period reproduction, and yes, I was wearing a corset. “I couldn’t get the clothes on without it, and it was necessary for the ‘look’. The knickers are needed because otherwise it would be my skin directly on parts of the saddle.”

“Isn’t a bit uncomfortable?” one asked.

“It’s not too bad, once you get used to it,” I responded.

“How do you go to the bathroom?” another asked.

“Just like you do. Pull down what has to be pulled down, and pick up the rest and sit,” I answered smugly.

Some of the men and boys stood off a bit, just observing, or in the case of a few, ogling.

After more questions, my cousins came up to me. “Bri, we’re going to drive the wagon back to the parking lot, and we will come back with the horse trailer.”

“That works for me,” I replied. After they came back, we loaded the horse in the trailer, and my uncles headed off to bring all the horses back to Uncle Bill’s place.

My cousins suggested that we get something to eat, which sounded like a good idea since I hadn’t eaten much for breakfast. We bought some pulled pork sandwiches and soft drinks, and found a picnic table in the shade

“There’s a father-son softball game out at the park, do you want to go?” asked Judy.

“Bri’s dad is here, so maybe she, or he, could sign up,” Alice added with a smirk.

“Running bases would be a bit difficult in that skirt,” added Judy.

I just scowled at them.

I discovered that five teenaged girls, no matter what they were wearing, will attract teenaged boys. This time was no exception. A group of them came up to the table. “Hey, Anna, who are your friends,” one asked.

“They’re not friends, they’re relatives,” she responded with a chuckle.. “These are my cousins. Brianna, Alice and Judy. They’re visiting for Founder’s Day.”

“Where are you guys from?” another asked.

“I’m from Joliet,” I responded. “Alice and Judy live in southern Will County. And who are you?”

“I’m Joe, and this is Pete. We’re the cool ones, so you can just ignore the rest of these clowns. We’re friends of Anna and Jenny, and go to the same school,” he added.

“Do you want to do something?” Pete asked.

“Like what?” Anna responded.

“I donno, just something.”

“There’s a lot of stuff set up for Founder’s Day,” one of the other boys said. “Maybe we could just look around.”

“There’s going to be a dance in the park, do you want to go?” Pete added.

“Like this?” I exclaimed.

“Why not? You look great in your costume.”

I looked at him closely. He was kind of cute, I thought. Immediately thereafter I realized that I am a boy, and shouldn’t consider other boys to be cute. Hmmm, I thought, maybe the clothes are having an effect on me.

We went to the dance. It was then I discovered that I liked dancing with Pete, and enjoyed being in his arms. Just before we were ready to leave, he bent his head down, and I felt his lips against mine. OMG, I thought - I’ve just been kissed by a boy. What should I do? The devil in me said “kiss him back,” so I did.

This was not lost on Anna. “You seemed to be having a good time dancing with Pete. Did you like kissing him?”

I decided to say nothing.

“You’re not denying it, so it must be true,” added Jenny.

I could feel myself blushing. “Look! She’s blushing,” blurted out Judy. “So it has to be true.”

The were correct. Anna said, “Girl, we have to take you shopping for some girl’s clothes. I don’t think that Brianna will be going away any time soon. So my cousins took me shopping and I now have my own feminine wardrobe. Since my aunts and uncles had a lot to do with my transformation, they convinced my parents that they should not resist my dressing and being a girl.

I really enjoy being a girl.



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