Chapter Ten: Affection and Rejection

The next morning, realizing that he needed to dress in a more masculine style, he wore a pair of khaki slacks and a dark blue polo shirt; the weather continued to be warm, and many of the students wore shorts, but Kenny felt it wiser to be more staid. He tied his hair in a ponytail, hoping it would look manly enough.

“You can’t fool me, I still see Karen when I look at you!” Ray said as the two walked to the cafeteria for breakfast.

Kenny smiled, but said nothing. If he had replied, he was afraid he would have said that he still felt like Karen and that he loved the affection of his sinewy, wonderful Indian roommate.

“You’re hot, you know,” Ray said.

“Thanks, Ray, but I need to remain a man for now,” Kenny said. “Don’t you ever tell anyone about last night.”

Ray laughed. “You think I’m nuts. If the other Indian students knew, I’d be ostracized so quickly.”

After the orientation sessions ended that day, Ray was going home to Milwaukee for the weekend; there was handy bus service between the University and the state’s major city. There was no such service to Manitowoc, and those students from there might occasionally drive home for the weekend, even though it was a difficult trip mainly along two-lane country roads.

“I’ll miss you this weekend, Ray,” Kenny said, using a quiet, soft flirting tone.

“Don’t start that, you little tease, or I’ll kiss you right out here in front of God and the entire student body.”

Kenny giggled, reverting quickly to acting more manly.

Orientation ended in the early afternoon, giving the students an early start to the weekend so that they could either return home or relax before the formal start of classes the next week.

Angela had reserved a tennis court for 4 p.m. that afternoon and persuaded Kenny — reluctantly at first — to join her. Kenny protested, saying he had neither a racket or appropriate clothes or shoes for the match. “I just didn’t have enough room for that stuff,” he said as they talked on their cell phones during the lunch break.

“I got an extra racket and also extra clothes and shoes,” she said. “And I know they’ll fit you, even though I might be a little bigger.”

Kenny had nothing scheduled for the rest of the day or the weekend and said yes. Besides, Angela was mad a him; she had texted him several times the previous night, left a few voice mail messages which he ignored, having been either in the arms of Gabe or later Ray. He felt he had to go along with her suggestion.

“And don’t come looking like Kenny to my place, Ok,” she ordered.

He agreed, realizing that he was more often taken for a girl anyway, even in men’s outfits; since half of the girls that lived in the same house with Angela looked butch, he didn’t see that any of her housemates would notice. He wore the same girl jeans and shirt he had worn the previous night to meet Gabe. He tied his hair in a traditional ponytail, which he planned to unpin as he approached Angela’s residence, letting the hair flow freely, accentuating his girlish look.

As Kenny suspected, Angela had a completely feminine outfit for him to wear; knowing she’d want him to also be wearing girl underthings, he wore a pair of white, cotton panties, with a gaff to keep his penis hidden; he also wore a white training bra, which he had learned to fit so that it squeezed the soft flesh of his chest into tiny, subteen girl breasts and a hint of cleavage.

She had him strip down to his bra and panties, as she stood examining him. “God, you’re as sweet and tender as a 13-year-old girl.”

Kenny couldn’t help it; he blushed.

“Damn, you’re so cute” she said, beginning to cry.

Kenny was confused. Why was she crying?

“Oh, Angela, why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh Karen,” she said, tears flowing down. Reached out to him, drawing his slender body next to her, almost squeezing him breathless. She smothered him in kisses on his face, and he felt the moisture from her tears. He tried to extricate himself from her grasp, but was too weak to loosen her strong arms. Finally, Angela let go, and she collapsed onto her bed, and Kenny wasn’t sure what to do, and sat down on the bed, next to her. He saw a box of issues on the night table, reach to get one and wiped the girl’s face gently.

“Karen, Karen, Karen,” she said. “Every boy at the U will want you. I’ll never have you. I love you so dearly.”

Kenny got up from the bed, wanting to remove himself from this needy woman. He, too, had great affection for Angela, wanted her as a friend and companion and felt obligated to her for welcoming him into the sorority of young womanhood. Yet, she wanted so much.

“It’s getting late, Angela,” Kenny said. “We’ll not make the tennis time unless we hurry.”

“You’re right, Karen.”

She got up quickly and the two dressed for the courts, Kenny in white flaring short mini dress, a sleeveless white top with pinkish trim, short athletic anklets and white female tennis shoes that fit Kenny, once they were tightened up. His feet were a slight bit narrower than Angela’s. She found a pink baseball cap, with a gap in the back, through which she wound his hair so that it would bob when he played. She used a hairpin to fix the cap on his head.

“If you aren’t the cutest thing,” Angela said.

The match was the usual one-sided affair, with stronger serves of Angela overwhelming Kenny’s weak returns; occasionally Kenny scored a point by dinking a ball out of reach of the athletic Angela. He did feel, however, he was getting more competitive with her and she complimented him repeatedly when he gained a point or they had exchanged a particularly competitive volley.

Kenny felt he was being watch by many of the young men playing in adjoining courts, noticing that the ball from the court to their south kept getting into their court, usually on Kenny’s side. Kenny would bend down, girlishly at the knees, to retrieve the ball and then hit it back to the boy.

Eventually, he realized it was only one of the boys whose balls seemed to make it into Kenny’s court. He was a slender, tallish boy with a light complexion, and a shy smile. He always said, “Sorry about that. Thank you miss.”

Kenny could see that Angela was getting miffed with this interruption and after about the tenth time, she yelled out:

“Hey there, you in the next court,” her voice boomed.

“I said I’m sorry,” the boy yelled back.

“She’s already got a boyfriend, so keep your ball in your own court.”

The boy looked at Kenny, blushed demurely and nodded, as if to apologize for Angela’s reaction.

The boy smiled. “You’re cute, and I’m sorry. I should have known you had a boyfriend. You must of hundreds.”

Kenny nodded, his exchange interrupted by Angela’s shout: “Are you ready to serve, Karen. He’s just another boy.”

They finished their match, Kenny losing the two sets that they had time to play.

Walking back to Angela’s room, the girl held Kenny’s hand, but it was a firm, angry hold, not a sweet, gentle one that was more usual. Kenny could tell she was mad.

“See what I mean?” Angela said. “You’re so cute and hot I’ll never have you anymore. You’ll never love me, with all those boys after you.”

“I’ll always love you, Angela, no matter what.”

“You’ll dump this lezzie when the first guy comes along, I know it.”

“No, I’ll always be with you.”

“Don’t say what you don’t believe, Karen. And where were you last night? Who were you with? You didn’t answer my texts or my phone calls. Who?”

Kenny removed his hand from Angela’s hold, turning toward the girl, saying firmly. “Angela, I’ll always be your friend and your lover, I hope. But we should both be able to do other stuff, too. Ok? What and who I do it with, or you do it with, is our own business. Ok?”

Angela was taken aback by the sudden aggressive reaction by her friend, usually so compliant and submissive.

“Ok, Karen, you’re right,” she said finally. “It’s just that I’ve never felt so much love with anyone like I have with you.”

They returned to Angela’s room, showered together and spent an hour in bed; this time it was different, with Angela being sometimes laid back and submissive, inviting Kenny to take the initiative, which he began doing. It was a new and exciting way to make love for him. Angela liked it too.

*****
He left Angela’s, relieved that he had asserted himself. He was fond of the girl, particularly since she seemed to fully accept him as he was. But, he wondered: what was he? An effeminate girly boy or a girl? More and more, he felt he was a girl.

*****
With Ray gone for the weekend, Kenny planned to have a lonely Saturday. First of all, he needed to get his part of the room organized; he also needed to spend some time on the computer, checking out what he could expect from the classes and the professors for the coming semester.

The real reason he wanted to be alone was that he could lock his door, and dress up as Karen for the day, leaving only in his male outfits for meals and an errand to the pharmacy for some toiletries and, perhaps even buying pantyhose. He didn’t go out for breakfast; Ray had a small refrigerator in the room, which he said Kenny could use to store small cartons of milk or a can of soda or two, and Kenny kept a box of cereal, which he ate for breakfast.

Thus, he wore his pink nightie, a soft cottony affair with thin straps over the shoulders; he let his hair flow loosely and put on a light pink lipstick and modestly darkened his eyebrows and lashes. He felt totally feminine; it was heavenly and peaceful.

He opened his laptop, powered it up, signing into the University’s system, marveling at how quick it was, compared to the service they had at home. Before he even checked his email, he punched in “Mark Hamilton Iowa State,” a routine he’d gotten into checking on the progress of Mark Hamilton. He had been surprised to learn that Hamilton’s arrival on campus had been heralded in the sports coverage of Iowa media as a real victory. Today, he saw a link to an article in the Des Moines Register:

Freshman Hamilton
Shines in Preseason

The appearance of a freshman from Milwaukee has brightened the outlook for Cyclone football in the coming season.

Judging from his early performances, Mark Hamilton could take over the No. 1 spot tomorrow should all-conference Senior Quarterback Henry Wall falter or get injured.

“We didn’t expect Mark to be of much value to us this season, but the way he has progressed is indeed impressive,” commented Iowa State Football coach Hank Denker. The coach refused to commit to naming Hamilton as the backup QB, but he had been having the young man practice with the backup squad.

“We were lucky to get Hamilton out of Wisconsin, which may again be headed for a top bowl game this year, but the team is top heavy in quarterbacks and Mark really is looking forward to playing regularly fairly soon,” Denker said. “He’s a bright young man, who seems already to have gained the respect of the rest of the team, which is quite an accomplishment for an incoming freshman.”

Kenny scanned down the page when a paragraph near the end caught his attention:

Hamilton is majoring in theater arts and hopes to become either an actor, director or screenwriter. He said in an interview: “I love performing and I played Hamlet in a first-rate Summer Camp program this year. It was a thrilling experience.”

Kenny smiled, reflecting upon their scenes together at the Summer Camp, their warm kisses and great interplay on the stage. He wondered if Mark had any girl friends.

He got up from the computer and went into the bathroom; without thinking, he began to pretty himself up, brushing his hair, refreshing his lipstick and rubbing a light bit of mascara on his face. He looked at himself closely in the mirror, reflecting on how pretty he looked, even in this casual outfit.

“I must be a girl,” he mused. “When I needed to think or get a break, what do I do? I fix my makeup.”

He returned to the computer, and began an email message:

Dear Mark,

Saw story in newspaper about how well you’re doing! Congrats!

My oh my, a real football star. I knew him when. But don’t get hurt. U know I’ll cry if U do. LOL. I really will cry, u know that.

Glad to see u still like theater. U r a natural actor, and so handsome, too.

Just starting at the University, majoring in Social Work and minoring in drama. Love it here.

I so enjoyed our time together. Email me anytime or call me. I still have the old cell ph number. That’s only if you want to.

Your friend, Karen

He reread the message three times, wondering if he should send it. Mark had made it clear he was finished with their romance; it was obvious the boy couldn’t accept the fact that the Kenny might be a transgendered woman. Should he sent it? Kenny hemmed and hawed, finally hitting the “Send” button. A chill went down his spine, worried about the reaction the message might get.

*****
“What are you doing, darling?” Angela asked.

“Oh just organizing my room and looking over stuff for school,” Kenny said replying to the call from Angela.

“I’m doing the same. Just got back from volleyball practice. I’m all sweaty now, wanna come over and help me shower off,” she said, giggling.

Kenny giggled, reflecting on the memory of the two of them showering together after their tennis match, and how much of a contrast the two presented: Angela with her tanned, trim hard body and perky tiny breasts, Kenny looking soft and white with a flabby chest and tummy.

“That would be nice, but you’ll be all dried off by the time I get there.”

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? I just had to call you, Karen.”

Kenny purred aloud, “You miss your girl friend?”

“Yes, girl friend. And I can’t wait to tell you, I’m going to be first string this year.”

“Oh Angela, how great! You deserve a hundred kisses.”

“Only if they’re from you, darling.”

The two talked for a half hour, and Angela invited Kenny to join her and a group from the volleyball team for a swim party at the University beach Sunday afternoon. “You’ll be Karen, my girl friend, dear.”

“I don’t have a swim suit for Karen,” Kenny said.

“That’s OK, I have an extra that should fit.”

Kenny accepted the invitation, agreeing to arrive at Angela’s to be appropriately outfitted for the outing.

Kenny checked his emails regularly. Nothing came from Mark or Gabe. He cried that night in bed.

*****
“Remember you’re my girl,” Angela warned as the two walked onto the beach, carrying a pair of blankets, a thermos of iced tea, towels and a bag of potato chips.

“Some of those girls will be apeshit over you, Karen.”

“They aren’t all lezzies, are they?” Kenny asked.

“Oh no, just a me and a couple others. Some will be there with boy friends. There’ll be some others with girl friends, but I assure you, you’ll be the cutest of the bunch, Karen.”

Kenny had arrived at Angela’s early so that he could try on the swim suit. It was a two-piece tankini, with a light blue background covered with wispy tulip-like flowers in lavender and pink on thin green stems. It had a ruffled top, as did the matching bottoms that accentuated the hips. Over it he wore a white boy’s shirt. He wore a light blue baseball cap.

“Aren’t you just adorable,” Angela said as he finished putting the suit on.

Angela insisted that Kenny have his toenails painted, which she did using a light pink shade with great precision. She paused in her artistry at times to massage Kenny’s feet, remarking how smooth they were

“God, even you’re feet are pretty. Not many girls have such pretty feet, and yours are so slender and smooth. You must use lotion on them,” she said, looking up into Kenny’s eyes.

Kenny nodded his head that he did use lotion; it was true he did like his feet to be smooth and pretty.

“You’re such a girl,” Angela said, smiling.

When she finished, she pulled each foot up to her mouth, cradled it gently in her hand and kissed the instep. Then she ran her lips up one leg into the soft inner thigh and then own the other, affixing kisses on the way. The feel of her lips excited Kenny and his penis rose, growing hard, as it always did when he imagined himself as a girl.

“I don’t know if I should take you this afternoon,” she said. “You’re so yummy, and I know at least one of those girls have an eye for sweet, young girls like you. I’ll have to fight her off.”

Kenny giggled at the prospect, and Angela looked up at him harshly. “Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry,” Kenny said. “But, I’m sure you’d win any fight.”

“Maybe, but Maxine thinks she can beat any of us up, and she’s quite a wrestler, too, and thinks she can star on the wrestling circuit.”

“Will I be safe?” Kenny asked, truly concerned now. He knew he’d be no match for any of the girls, all of whom were likely much stronger than he was.

“I’ll protect you, Karen,” Angela said, “just as long as you know you’re my girl. Now let’s finish fixing you up.”

Kenny was clearly out of breath from the hurried walk to the beach when they found the group of about a dozen young people. There were three young men among the young women, and Kenny was surprised to see that all of the women were tall and lovely. Their bodies were all tanned and firm, with noticeable muscles showing on their arms and legs. Kenny could see the three boys had gathered to one side of the bunch; they had been engaged in some sort of conversation, probably about football. They were obviously the boy friends of some of the girls, and had tagged along. They stopped talking as they saw Kenny standing there, their mouths saying something that he could only interpret as something on the version of “wow, she’s hot.”

“This is Karen, girls,” Angela announced to the group. “And she’s all mine. Look, don’t touch.”

With that Angela swept him up in her arms and kissed him, to the hoots and howls of the group. He blushed and his apparent shyness just seemed to stoke the group even more.

“Way to go, Angela,” one of the girls yelled. “Robbing the cradle, eh?”

Kenny knew that his diminutive body — well, diminutive in comparison to the Amazons gathered on the beach — along with the pigtails Angela had fashioned made him look like a middle school girl. His softness, too, made him look like a girl whose body has yet to mature.

“No, girls, she’s old enough to vote and drink beer now,” Angela said.

Some of the girls ran off to swim, including Angela, but Kenny demurred, saying he wasn’t much of a swimmer. He watched them pushing and splashing water about as they fought in the lake, their giggles and yells filling the air. He watched Angela’s magnificent body glisten as she shoveled water about, her muscular arms rippling as she moved about.

He was so engrossed in Angela’s action that he didn’t notice that Maxine had moved up next to him until he felt her hand grab his slender bicep.

“Angela’s so lucky,” she whispered, as her fingers kneaded the soft flesh of his arm.

Maxine was dark-haired, heavily tanned with a body-builder’s physique covered only by a yellow bikini that exposed the abs of her stomach and a tiny matching bra that barely could hold her firm, but smallish breasts.

Kenny said nothing, but looked straight ahead, watching Angela, but not seeing her, as his mind worked to figure out a way to escape the attention of this brick of a woman who had moved next to him.

“You really 18?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Kenny replied, trying not to communicate any more tan he had to.

“You look about 13, so tender and cute,” Maxine continued, her voice now a low, sexy whisper.

The girl reached out to put an arm about Kenny, but he moved a few inches away. He said, “You better not, Angela will get mad.”

“Don’t worry about her,” she said. “I can handle her with my little finger.”

Maxine’s voice was becoming almost sinister, and Kenny got up, saying, “I’d better get in the water.”

And he ran toward the water, his arms flaying about, his steps short with his knees together. A girlish trot. He ran into the water, surprising Angela by hugging her as she stood in waist-deep water giggling with another girl. Angela lifted him up, and kissed him.

He felt like a helpless baby, and he wrapped his arms about Angela’s neck somewhat desperately, as if he feared being dropped into the water. Yet, he felt safe in the girl’s strong arms. He knew he should feel humiliated, being a boy, but he didn’t. He was a soft, tender girl.

They returned to her room about supper time, showered and went to bed. Two girls making love. The love was even sweeter after he told Angela how he escaped the advances of Maxine and how she had frightened him.

“And you ran to your man, dear girl. I love you so much.”

Kenny stayed ‘til 10 p.m., realizing he had to get back to his room. Ray would have returned and wonder where he was; besides classes started in the morning, and he had to prepare for that. Angela drove him back to the dorm, dropping him off at the door, watching him hurry in his girlish style up the steps as several boys watched what they saw as a cute freshman girl, headed either to her room on the second floor where the girls stayed or headed to the first floor room of a boy friend.

*****
Kenny found the room empty when he entered. There was no Ray, and all of his belongings were gone, including the small refrigerator. The two cans of diet soda that Kenny had in the fridge were placed on his nightstand. There was no note, no indication of what happened to Rajesh.

He was mystified. Why would Ray vacate the room, without so much as a “good bye” note, perhaps even a phone number or an address. It was so strange, Kenny thought, given the love-making the two had experienced a few nights earlier. He remembered Ray suggesting that Kenny should put on sari for him sometime. The kisses and caresses between the two had been so real; why the abrupt desertion?

He wondered whether he should he go out of his room and ask around as to what happened to the boy, but realized he still looked far too girlish to barge in on the boys in the room across from him; their door had been slightly ajar when he returned, but Kenny had not yet met them, given the few days they had all been on campus. Besides, they always seemed to act in rude, macho manner, and probably were already wondering about the effeminate boy across the hall. He could imagine what the boys said about him already.

He did the only thing a girl could do; he went into the bathroom and fussed with his hair, trying to figure out what would make him even prettier. He thought about curling his hair a bit; he’d always worn is straight, and recently had been tinting its light brown strands into being more blondish. “You have beautiful hair, dear,” Angela told him several times.

In truth, Kenny looked at himself and realized that he looked so often like the cute blonde teen girls he’d seen in high school. Standing in front the mirror, wearing only his panties and training bra, Kenny could only smile.

He put on his nightie, a pink satiny affair with wide lace straps over the shoulders, and a lace trimmed bodice that held his tiny breasts. Crossing his legs, he sat down at his laptop to check his email inbox: there were no massages from either Mark or Gabe. Nor were their text messages on his cell phone. There was one from Angela:

“Cute Karen I miss u already.”

Kenny thought for a minute and texted back simply:

“Kisses”

Despite the affection from Angela, Kenny felt desolate: he had been deserted by three boys who had shown deep affection for him. In reality, they had been making love to Karen, a girl that didn’t really exist. Or did she? Karen was real enough, Kenny felt. He cried softly into his pillow that night before falling asleep.