“I don’t know why you can’t dress like a girl. I mean, I’ve never seen you in a dress and you’ve lived next door for five years,” I told Susie, the tomboy that lived next door. She was my sister’s age, two years older than me, and I was starting to notice girls and she was one I noticed. Under her jeans (boys) and loose shirt, there was a good looking body. The only time you could tell was when she put on a swimsuit. “And you should do something with your hair and maybe wear some nail polish or somethin’,” I continued.

“Leave her alone Frank. She can dress how ever she wants. I don’t blame her. I like to wear jeans and sweatshirts too,” my sister defended.

“Yeah, you’re nearly as bad as she is. You only wear dresses sometimes, when there’s some kind of special occasion. You’ve got a drawer full of nice nighties and all you ever wear to bed is flannel pajamas. The only difference between you and Susie is you polish your nails. Susie never wears dresses,” I complained.

“I don’t always wear flannel pajamas.”

“Oh yeah; I forgot. During the summer, you wear Dad’s old T-shirt and Boxers. Real girlie. I’ll bet Susie wears that kind of thing year round.”

Susie whispered something to Karen, who nodded. “I’ll tell you what,” Susie said. “Let’s have a contest. I’ll bet that I can do everything you do and that you can’t do everything I can do. If you win, I’ll wear whatever you say for a whole week and fix my hair all girlie. I’ll even let you go first.”

“What if I lose?”

“Well then,” she grinned, “you’ll have to wear whatever I say all week.”

“What ever we say… I’ll even do it too. And you’ll have to do something with the sorry mop you call hair to make it look better. I don’t know where you get off talking about Susie’s hair. At least she washes hers,” my sister Karen insisted.

“We’re talking about actually ‘doing things’ not dumb stuff, like having babies or whatever.”

“No, it’s not like girls can have babies or anything.”

I thought about it. I was pretty sure that I could find something that I could do that she couldn’t and I was really sure that I could do whatever she could do. It’s a good bet. I’m sure to see her in something really girlie.

“OK, if that’s the bet, I’ll take it.”

“There’s just one more condition,” Susie informed me.

“Oh yeah, something that put you to the advantage, I’ll bet.”

“No, just to keep me from being at a disadvantage.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“Well, if you do find something I can’t do, then I still get to see if I can find something you can’t do and if I do, we’re even and there is no winner.

“Ahh…”

“That’s fair,” my mother said.

I didn’t even know she had heard our bet. Yet there she was standing in the patio door. I looked at her wanting to argue that the first person to find something the other couldn’t do should win, but then we’d have to take turns and being first was to my advantage. I might just be able to tire her out enough that she couldn’t do the whatever it was she thought that I couldn’t do.

Mom must have seen my indecision, because she continued, “You have to give her the chance to get even.”

“OK,” I said, knowing that even if I wanted to, Mom wouldn’t let me not agree.

“OK, now I’ll add some conditions. If I think it’s too dangerous, you don’t get to do it, and I’m the judge of whether or not the second person has actually met the challenge or if it was a fair challenge. Since we don’t want this competition to go on into the night, you’ll each be limited to ten things to challenge the other, so make it good.”

“Fine by me,” I said, figuring she was my Mom and she’d be on my side. I mean, Mom wore dresses often and always looked girlie, even when she wore pants. Ten would be enough to find something Susie couldn’t do.

“Works for me,” Susie agreed.

“Let the games begin,” my Dad said from behind Mom.

Where did he come from?

Mom and Dad came out and sat on the patio furniture while I tried to think up just how to go about this. I didn’t want to go right to the good stuff. I wanted to do some things that would tire her out before I got to the good stuff. But… maybe, just maybe I could get lucky and do something she just didn’t have the skill to do.

My first challenge was to do a handstand and walk on my hands. I took about twenty steps. I tucked out of the handstand, stood up and smiled at Susie. She surprised me by bending over and popping right up into a handstand and walking the same distance I had and tucked out with possibly more grace than me. When she popped up, her loose shirt bunched up around her shoulders exposing her T-shirt. Mom gave me a look like she was unhappy, but I couldn’t figure out why.

My next challenge was what had been a break dance move two decades earlier; I saw it in some ninja movie. I ran over to the garage and took two steps up the side and flipped over to land on my feet. If she can do this, I hope she doesn’t know how to do any other ninja stuff. Susie didn’t even hesitate, took her run and did the flip with ease.

This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Time to see how brave she is.

I went to our fir tree, ducked under the branches and started to climb. Susie didn’t even wait for me to get through. She ducked in and climbed right behind me. When I got near the top, I poked my head outside the branches and continued to climb until I was holding onto the very top of the tree. Susie poked her head out and climbed up to match me just around the tree and grinned at me. I grinned back. She can’t know what I’m going to do next. I was sure this would get her. I jumped up, so my feet were outside the tree as well and turned loose, sliding down the outside of the tree. Imagine my surprise when I hadn’t even reached the ground and she copied my move.

I ran to the swing in the oak tree, jumped on and swung up as high as I could and bailed out with a back flip. Susie ran and caught the swing before it stopped, hopped in and followed suit. I can’t believe it; she hasn’t even hesitated once. Time to think of some good things to do.

I ran to the gazebo. Once inside, climbed the railing walked the circumference. When I jumped down, Susie jumped down right behind me.

“Come on,” she said, “you gotta do better than this. This stuff is too easy. You only got five more things. If this is the best you got, you might as well forfeit right now, ’cause I’ll win for sure.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. I jumped back on the rail and then jumped out to catch a rafter. I swung back and forth a couple of times, then tucked my legs up and over rafter, ending up with my head up inside the roof, resting on my hands. Susie joined me mimicking my every move perfectly.

I swung a leg over the rafter and she did the same. Then sitting on the rafter, I put my hands between my legs, grabbing ahold; I pushed back, ending up hanging by my knees. A couple of swings upside down and I turned loose with my knees and landed on my feet. She did the same without even blinking.

“Only three more,” she said. “They better be good.”

“Three? Four! That was only the sixth one, or do I claim victory because I can count and you can’t.”

“The flip off the rafter was number seven. The fancy move to get up there was number six.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s ask your Mom,” she said confidently.

I looked at Mom. “Susie’s right,” Mom said.

I glared at Susie as I tried to think of what to do next. I should have planned this better. I need something that requires strength, bravery and skill… what?

Suddenly it hit me. Back to the swing in the oak tree. Grabbing one of the ropes, I began to climb. As I reached the limb, I looked down to see Susie on the other rope only five feet below me. I pulled myself up on the limb and stood as I walked to the trunk. Turning back, I saw Susie stand and walk toward me.

I climbed another limb up on the other side and started walking out toward the garage. The limb paralleled the garage roof about five feet away. Facing the garage I jumped onto the flat roof, catching myself with one foot. I looked over my shoulder as I scramble up on the roof Susie was darting out the limb faster than I did and didn’t even hesitate as she launched herself at the roof. She actually landed better than I did.

“One more!” Mom called out.

“One more?” I asked.

“Yes, one more,” she called back. “It was seven when you asked last time. Climbing the rope was eight; jumping to the roof was nine. I’m being generous. I could count walking the limb as one as well, but I’m giving you that one because you already walked the railing in the gazebo.”

OK, time for the coup de grâce, whatever that means. I went to the edge of the garage and bent down to put a hand on the false wall and hopped off the roof, landing in a roll to absorb the shock of the landing. By the time Susie got to the edge of the roof, I was standing. I grinned up at her. She couldn’t have seen how I landed. I’ve got her this time. Dad’ll have to get his ladder to get her down.

“That’s pretty dangerous…” Mom started.

“No, that’s OK,” Susie said. “If he can do it, I can do it.”

She grinned at me as she stooped down to find her handhold and went over the side, landing in a crouch, followed by a roll. She stood up and grinned.

“My turn,” she said.

“Do your worst,” I returned.

Susie swished her way back to the patio and went inside returning with a kitchen chair before I could follow. She smiled as she sat it next to the wall. Putting the toe of her right shoe against the wall, she put the toe of her left against her heel, stepped back to put her right foot behind the left in the same manner. Feet together, she dragged the chair in front of her. Bending over, she touched her head to the wall and picked up the chair. What kind of goofy thing is this? Anybody can pick up a chair. Then she stood up, turned and smiled at me.

“OK hotshot, do that.”

I looked around. This is screwy. What kind of challenge is that? Looking back, I should have known something was up. Both Mom and Karen were grinning like the Cheshire Cat and Dad was slowly shaking his head. Susie put the chair down and I picked it up.

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“The big deal, is you didn’t to it right,” Susie informed me.

“What? You picked up the chair, I picked up the chair.”

“You didn’t measure the distance from the wall with your feet and you didn’t put your head against the wall first.”

“OK, but this is dumb. This chair hardly weighs anything.”

I did the heel to toe thing, pulled the chair in front of me, bent over touching my head to the wall and picked up the chair.

“See?” I said. “No big deal.”

“Stand up,” Mom said.

I started to put the chair down. “No, Susie stood while holding the chair.”

I shrugged. This is dumb. I flexed to stand, but nothing happened. It was like my head was glued to the wall. What? I flexed again, harder. Still nothing. I turned my head to look at Mom. She was grinning ear to ear and chuckling softly.

I put down the chair and stood. “OK, what’s the trick?” I demanded. Karen began to laugh out loud.

“No trick,” Mom informed me. “Susie can do it, you can’t.”

“There’s got to be some trick. She didn’t show me everything.”

“OK, Susie, do it again slowly and explain everything you’re doing.”

Susie stepped up the wall. “You put your toe against the wall, like this,” she said. “Then you put your other foot behind your first foot, like this. Then the first foot behind the second foot the same way. Stand with your feet together, like this. Put the chair if front of you against the wall; bend over touch your head against the wall. Then pick up the chair and stand up. Nothing too it.”

“What’s the trick?” I asked.

“No trick. You just do what I did.”

“No, there’s some trick. Karen, you do it.”

“OK,” Karen said.

She stepped up to the wall and measured her three steps back, pulled the chair in front of her, bent to touch the wall, picked up the chair and stood up. She turned and smiled. “See, nothing to it.”

“I still didn’t see what you did different. You had to have done something different than I did.”

Mom said. “No she didn’t. Here, I’ll show you.”

I watched in awe as Mom performed the trick.

“OK, you get one more try and then I declare Susie the winner,” Mom informed me.

“Not if I do it,” I stated flatly and measured off my three steps I put the chair in front of me, bent, pick up the chair and couldn’t stand up. I struggle for nearly five minutes.

Finally Dad said, “Give it up son. You’ve been beat.”

“It’s not fair Dad,” I said putting down the chair. “They’re doing something different and they’re hiding it from me. You know how, show me,” I pleaded.

“No son, I don’t, well… I know how, but I can’t do it either. The only thing they did different than you was to be born girls. You lost the bet. Let this be a lesson to you. Never take a bet on someone else’s game. They probably know something you don’t, which means they’ll win hands down.”

Mom stood and raised Susie’s hand. “I’m the winner,” Susie shouted.

“OK little brother, time to get you dressed properly,” Karen said with glee. She stepped inside and crooked her finger at me in the “come here” sign. Susie gestured toward the door and bowed slightly.

I looked at Dad. He said, “I assume you’ll honor your debt like a man.”

Hanging my head, I followed them into my fate.

“So what do I have to wear? I suppose you’ll make me wear my suit and tie all week.”

“We’ll worry about what you wear later. Take off your shirt. The first thing we’re going to do is fix your hair. No more dirty rag mop for you. You’re going to have some style for the next week,” Karen told me.

That’s just what they proceeded to do. I was in the kitchen with my head over the sink while Karen sprayed my hair with the nozzle and Susie poured a big glob of Mom’s shampoo in her hand.

“Yuck, can’t you just use the Ivory soap like I always do?”

“NO WAY,” Karen informed me. “That’s what’s wrong with your hair now. When you do wash it, you use hand soap. That stuff just dries it out and makes it look like straw. This stuff will put some body in it and with a little luck some shine.”

“But that stuff smells all flowery,” I protested, only to be ignored.

After Susie scrubbed my hair, like she was trying to rub holes in my scalp, she rinsed my hair and started all over again.

“Hey,” I said, “you already washed with that stuff.”

“Yeah, well your hair is in such sorry shape I may just do it three times. Besides the directions say to shampoo, rinse and shampoo again for best results. Trust me, you need the best results.”

So I endured another round of scrubbing followed by a rinse. When they were done, my hair was hanging in front of my face. Wow, I never knew my hair was that long. They threw a towel over my head and did up the turban thing Mom wears when she comes out of the shower.

“Sit over here,” Karen told me.

When I sat down, they conferred in private for a moment and seemed to be in some kind of disagreement. Finally, they came to some sort of decision and ran off only to come back with pink bag and sat it on the table next to me. Off came the towel on my head and Susie began to comb my hair with a rattail comb. She parted it down the middle and again across the top. From nowhere, she came up with three clip things and bunched up three of the sections of hair with them. It was then I found out what was in the bag… rollers, hair rollers.

“HEY!” I shouted. “You’re not going to put my hair in rollers, are you?”

“Well, if your hair wasn’t so mistreated, maybe we wouldn’t have to, but it’s the only way we’ll ever get it to do anything but hang straight down,” Karen said.

“DAD!” I called. “DAD!”

He came in. “What’s the matter son?”

“They got some goofy idea they’re going to put my hair in rollers. Tell them that’s dumb and they can’t do it.” I knew that Dad would put a stop to this nonsense. But Mom appeared behind him.

“You know, the bet included hair,” she said.

“So it did,” Dad agreed. “I guess they’re within the bounds of the bet. Sorry son. Like I said, you’ll just have to learn to not bet someone else’s game.” He just shook his head and headed off.

It took them mostly an hour but they got my hair in rollers. Mostly small ones, only a few big ones. I think it wouldn’t have taken them so long if they hadn’t messed around with the paper things on the ends before they rolled it. After that they got a piece of white cloth and kind of made a fence around the rollers. Once done, they began giggling like banshees while they hovered around the sink. Messing with two bottles they got from a box. After they were done, they turned toward me grinning like maniacs.

“Over here,” command Susie. I walked over. “Bend over the sink.”

They started squeezing this smelly junk on my hair. I thought about calling for Dad again, but with the result the last time I didn’t. He was outside mowing the lawn and probably wouldn’t have heard me anyway. When they were satisfied with the stink on my hair, they had me sit down and wrapped my hair in some kind of plastic and tied it off. Susie pulled out her iPod. “You’ve got about twenty minutes to kill, so you might as well just sit and listen to some music,” and she stuck the earbuds in my ears. At least the music that she had on it was decent. I sat brooding while they disappeared.

I don’t know how long I sat there in the kitchen. Just as they came back, Mom came in. She wrinkled her nose, looked around. She zeroed in on me; then turned her gaze on Susie and Karen. She picked up one of the bottles from the sink, shook her head and said something and pointed at me. I couldn’t tell what she said, but she pulled out the garbage from under the sink and looked in. She threw the stink bottle the girls had used in it. Looking back at me, shaking her head she pulled the not nearly full sack out and replaced it. She then opened the windows while she talked to the girls some more. Shaking her head, she gave the garbage sack to Susie who sprinted off with it.

Mom just stood with her back to the counter staring at me. It was making me nervous. She had a look of real concern on her face… almost angry, almost worried and mostly determination. Susie showed up again, sans garbage bag. Mom said something to them moving her hands over each other and then turned to go outside looking back at me and shaking her head as she went.

The girls came over and checked my hair. It was back to the sink and after taking away the iPod; they bent me over the sink and sprayed water on the curlers until I was dripping. They wrapped my head in a big fluffy towel and carefully squeezed each roller following that with some more squeezing with paper towels. Then they opened the other bottle and squeezed some of the stuff in there on each curler. At least this stuff didn’t stink. Then it was back to the chair with the iPod. About five songs later, they had me at the sink again. This time, they rinsed my hair, unrolled it, spread some of the goop in it and rinsed it again. I couldn’t figure out why they bothered to put the junk in my hair, if they were just going to rinse it out again.

I was surprised. From what I knew about rollers, they stayed in until the hair was dry. But maybe they just wanted to mess with me about the hair thing. Maybe that stuff was some kind heavy-duty conditioner.

All I know is after they gently combed it out I was dragged upstairs with my hair still wet. My horror had only begun.

“OK, let’s get you dressed right,” Karen said, with an evil grin. “Take off that grungy T-shirt.”

Looking around, I was nervous. We hadn’t gone to my room. What are they going to dress me in, in here? I was soon to find out. As my shirt came off over my head, Susie was right there with a bra. A bra! What the he…

“Hey, hey, here. I’m not putting that on!”

“Oh but you are, little brother. Don’t you remember the terms of the bet? ‘You have to wear whatever I say and fix your hair like I say all week.’ That’s what you agreed to. You don’t want me telling Dad that you didn’t honor your bet, do you?”

“I didn’t mean girl’s clothes.”

“You didn’t exclude them either. The operative word was ‘whatever,’ no limitation. If you mean no girl’s clothes, then you should have clarified that by saying ‘OK, but only boy’s clothes.’”

“I… I can’t. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to. All you have to do is not fight it, and we’ll do the rest,” Susie put in as she took my right arm and threaded the bra up it.

I closed my eyes. They had me. I wanted so much to turn and run, to call out for Dad to intervene. But after his reaction to my hair in rollers, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I felt her bend my left arm and the strap slide up it. Too quickly there were hands hooking the cursed thing behind my back. It felt like a band was compressing my chest, making it hard to breathe. I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes. They fussed with it, pushing and pulling, finally they slipped the straps off my shoulders and stuffing something in front. Whatever it was, it was cold and sticky. I began to shake as they fussed with something inside the bra and I could feel my chest being pulled together. Then they put the straps back on my shoulders.

“Not bad,” Karen said. “They almost look real.”

“By the time we get him dressed, they will look real,” Susie agreed.

Opening my eyes, I looked down with disbelief and horror. There inside the bra were boobs… girl’s boobs. Oh my God, some how they’ve given me boobs!

“This is next,” Karen said, holding a half slip in front of me.

I blinked and looked at my boobs then looked up in disbelief.

“Here,” she insisted, “put this on over your shorts.” I was so shocked I just did what I was told. I had no idea how to tell if there was a front or back or what, so I just stepped into it and pulled it up. They giggled and Susie adjusted it from behind and then with a quick movement, she pantsed me. That shook me out of my stupor.

“Hey!” I shouted trying to cover myself.

Just then, Karen held up a pair of panties. “These match the bra, you’ll need to wear them too, to complete the outfit.”

“Oh God, Karen, please no.”

“‘Whatever we say,’ remember?” she insisted.

I was whipped and I knew it. That phrase would haunt the rest of my life, I was sure.

“At least turn around and give me some privacy,” I pleaded.

“OK,” said Susie, coming around to stand beside Karen. “Just throw your under shorts on the bed, so we’ll know you aren’t just wearing the panties over them.”

They turned around and so did I. I ended up facing the mirror on Karen’s closet. I was astounded by the sight. My way too long, curly hair and the bra and half slip gave me the look of a girl changing her panties. It gave me a little thrill as I tossed my briefs at the bed and stepped into the panties. Pulling them up kind of gave me an electric shock. I stared at my reflection breathing in shallow breaths.

“Aren’t you through yet?” Susie demanded.

“Ah, yeah,” I said nervously as I turned around.

“Good,” she said. In one quick move, she had a sundress in her hands. I recognized it as one Karen had gotten for her birthday last year and had only worn it when we went out to dinner that day. Yeah, she looked good in it, but never wore it but that once and now she wants me to wear it.

Over my head it went and Susie did the honors to zip it up. I turned to look in the mirror while they fussed with getting the bra straps out of sight behind the dress’ none to wide shoulder straps.

“You know Frank that dress looks pretty good on you. I think it’s your color. Maybe I’ll give it to you,” Karen teased. Whatever…

“Sit,” Susie commanded, indicating the bed. She fitted my feet with some knee socks in the same color as the dress. She tried but couldn’t come up with any shoes that fit me.

“Wait,” Karen said, “I’ve got an idea.”

She ran off leaving me and Susie alone, me sitting on the bed, her standing there smirking at me. We heard Karen pounding down the stairs, some talking we couldn’t make out, then two sets of footsteps coming up and going into our parent’s room. It seemed like an hour later, Karen came in clutching several pair of shoes.

“I think these will work with that dress,” she said, holding out a pair of sandals. “Mom says we can use the others the rest of the week.” She dumped the remainder on the bed next to me.

Soon my feet were shod in the strappy sandals. As I stood, I became aware of the two inch heel on them. Fortunately, they were casual sandals and not dress, so the heel was wide and I didn’t wobble too much when I walked.

“Let’s show Mom,” Karen blurted excitedly.

Each girl took a hand and dragged me back down the stairs. We met Dad at the bottom of the stairs. At last! Dad will see what they’ve done to me and put a stop to this nonsense. It was not to be.

“Ooooh, wow!” Dad muttered. “Well Frank, my boy, you’ve really stepped into it this time haven’t you.”

“Look what they did to me, Dad. Nobody said anything about me wearing girl’s clothes.”

Dad shook his head slowly. “Well, that’s true, but nobody excluded them either, did they? As I remember, the phrase was, ‘Whatever we say,’ wasn’t it? And face it, this is what you had in mind for them, wasn’t it.”

God, I couldn’t believe it. My own Dad wasn’t going to defend me. But he did have a point. It was exactly what I had in mind for them.

“I’m off to do a round of golf with old man Simmons from the office.” With that he strode out the door, chuckling to himself.

It was on to the kitchen where Mom was being Mrs. Homemaker and baking. As we entered she turned.

“What do you think? He looks good doesn’t he?”

Mom looked me up and down, a little smirk forming on her face. She walked around me, taking in all angles.

“Yes, he does look pretty good. Better than I thought. But I seem to remember something about nail polish.”

Oh God! My own mother is on their side.

Karen squealed and ran off only to return with some sick pink nail polish. Under my mother’s watchful eye, they painted my fingernails. When they were through, Karen said, “I never do just my fingers, I always do my toenails as well. Off came the sandals and knee socks as well. They giggled like crazily as they painted my toes.

At this point I was totally defeated. My father refused to step in and be the voice of reason and my own mother conspired against me. She provided the shoes and remembered nail polish when the girls had forgotten. What’s more, she just went about her housewife duties while I waited for the polish to dry. The cake came out of the oven and was turned out to cool on racks. Then she turned her attention to making sandwiches. The girls helped get lunch ready while grinning at me. When my nails were dry, they put the knee socks and sandals back on me.

“Well, girls,” my mother said, looking directly at me, “it’s so nice I think we should eat outside.”

I could feel my eyes widen as I realized the she meant all of us out on the patio! While our back yard was fairly private, the house next door, if someone wanted too, could see into it from an upstairs window. I wasn’t sure that I was willing for Susie’s mother to see me dressed like that. Later that would be a moot point. With fear and trepidation, I took a seat at the patio table making sure that my back was toward the neighbor’s yard where someone might see me.

I expected to have someone give me a hard time, but it didn’t happen, I just sat and slowly ate my sandwich and drank my soda. I really didn’t have much of an appetite. The girls chattered away just as they would have the day before. A couple of times they asked me a question or two and I responded with one or two word answers. I was ticked. Can you imagine it? I mean, I’m a red blooded American boy and they’ve got me all gussied up like a girl. The lunch was entirely uneventful. I mean we sat, we ate and we took the dishes back inside.

“OK, I need some help in the kitchen. I’ve got dishes to wash and a cake to frost and I’ve got three girls to help me,” Mom said, emphasizing the word “three.” She snatched up her broom and broke off a long straw. Turning around so we couldn’t see she messed with it and turned back. There were three straws sticking out of her hand. They all looked like they were the same length, but I’d seen this before I knew there would be one of a different length. “Here’s the deal. There are two long straws and one short one. You’re going to draw straws and the one with the short straw will help me frost the cake and the other two will do the dishes.” With that, she held out the straws to us. Susie and Karen each picked one and then me. I ended up with the short straw.

“Since you’re wearing a nice dress, you’d better put on this apron,” Mom told me.

She had several plain aprons that she and/or Karen wore when working in the kitchen, but the one that she selected for me was one she usually wore only on holidays. It was long with wide bib and had lots of ruffles around the edges and instead of a loop over the neck, it had wide suspender kind of straps that crossed over the back and went through loops so it could be drawn tight and tied in the back. She called it a penny or something like that.

The girls grumbled about how I got to do the fun stuff, but they did the dishes in short order and were out of the kitchen long before I was. Mom really didn’t need help decorating the cake. She spent the whole time instructing me how to do it. We made the frosting and after separating it into two bowls, colored each with different food coloring. The larger bowl was used to frost the cake. But before we started, she showed me how to use a thread to turn a two layer cake into a four layer cake. She cut one layer in two and supervised me as I cut the second. It was chocolate cake and we spread raspberry filling between the two pieces we had created and put them back together. Then we frosted the top of one of the resulting layers and put the other on top, so that some of the frosting squished out. She had me spread a layer of frosting over the whole cake and instructed how to make little peaks in it to make it interesting. The smaller bowl of frosting she put in one of those things you see dessert chefs use and had me practice squeezing it out on fresh waxed paper until I could make a straight line and an even squiggly line. I made lots of mistakes. Mom and I giggled a lot. It was really kind of fun. In the end, we scooped up the frosting off the waxed paper and put it back in the squeezer thing. Then, according to Mom’s plan, I squeezed the decoration on the cake. We produced a pretty good cake with some fancy stuff on it.

“Mom, why did we go to all the trouble with the decoration? I mean, it won’t make the cake taste any better. And it’s not like it’s a birthday cake or anything.”

“I know, sweetheart, but it’s all in the presentation. When a cake looks nice, people want to eat it and the anticipation of that nice looking cake make them appreciate it more when they do eat it,” she told me.

When we were all done, Karen and Susie came into the kitchen and had our digital camera. They took pictures of my handiwork and were really complimentary. “Oh wow, Fran. You really did a good job,” Susie told me.

“Fran? My name is Frank.”

“Actually,” Mom put in, “it’s really Francis and, like my father, we call you Frank.”

“Yeah, and in a dress, Francis becomes Fran. You don’t look much like a Frank right now,” Karen almost shouted with glee.

I had forgotten what I was wearing up to that point, but with that comment, I became acutely aware of each piece of clothing. The bra, the panties, the half-slip, the dress, even the knee socks and shoes; I was aware of each item. Then I thought about what was inside the bra, those cold sticky things. I had to search for the sensation they were there. It was almost like they were part of me. They weren’t cold any more and moved when I moved. Weird!

Mom took off her apron and then untied mine. As I moved I could feel the bra straps tugging at my shoulders and the slip caressing my legs and my butt over the panties. I was aware of the hard heel on the shoes clacking on the linoleum floor. It was like I was someone different. I wasn’t Frank I was… was… Francis… Fran… Oh I don’t know; I wasn’t the same person I had been when I got up. The whole sensation of just doing ordinary things was totally different. All my nerve endings were alive and aware of every little movement.

I needed to think. I went into the family room and plopped down on the couch and turned on the television and promptly zoned out. I don’t know what was on TV; I just sat there staring at the screen and subconsciously rubbing my leg as I relived my transformation. From Frank to Fran… Francis, or is that now Frances? My Mom once explained that Francis had two spellings, one for boys, F, R, A, N, C, I, S, and one for girls, F, R, A, N, C, E, S. To keep things simple, they usually called a boy name Francis, Frank. I never really thought about what they would call a girl named Frances… I guess it’s Fran. I looked down at my dress – no, no, no, not ‘my dress,’ the dress – and thought, maybe for a week, I’d have to be Frances, (with an e) or Fran. Oh God, no! A thought was trying to creep, well not creep, force its way, into my mind. If anyone saw me, I’d better be Frances, or Fran. I tried to keep it out, not think it but there it was… If anyone saw me. God please don’t let anyone see me. Funny, I never prayed or even went to church. I hadn’t even had a wedding or funeral to go to, yet here I was praying, just like I thought God might even know who I was, or even care. The thought scared me. If anyone saw me…

“Sweetheart, you probably should keep you knees together when you sit like that,” Mom’s voice dragged me back from wherever I’d spaced out to.

I looked up, and back down and saw that my knees were about two feet apart… I always sat that way, but I knew that if a girl sat that way in a dress, every guy within a mile would be angling for a look up her dress. I snapped my knees together with an audible clap and pulled the hem down trying in vain to cover my knees. It just wasn’t happening.

“Stand up sweetheart. You’ve sat down all wrong. Your dress,” No, no, no, my mind screamed, not my dress, the dress, “is all pulled up in the back.”

I stood and the dress fell back to just above my knees.

“Now sit again, only this time use your hands to smooth your dress behind you to keep it from riding up. It’ll also keep the wrinkles out of the back,” she said sitting beside me.

Why does she keep saying “your dress?” It’s Karen’s dress! Couldn’t she just call it “the dress?”

But still, I sat and smoothed the dress behind me. I was shaken; I turned to her and threw myself at her wrapping my arms around her. “Mommy, I don’t want to be Fran… I want to be Frank.” Mommy? I hadn’t called Mom, Mommy since I was in the first grade.

Mom hugged me. “Sweetheart, you are Frank. It’s just for a week you’ll be dressed like a Fran, but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop being Frank. And who knows, maybe they’ll get tired of the game after a couple of days and have you dressing in slacks and a sport shirt with your good shoes or something like that, that you wouldn’t normally wear except for a special occasion.”

“That’s what I thought, when I made the bet, but look at me. I’ve got panties and bra and every thing. I’ve even got boobs!” I pouted, fighting back tears.

“Breasts, dear, say ‘breasts’.”

“OK, breasts, I’ve even got breasts.” I lost the battle with tears and one rolled down my cheek.

Mom smoothed my hair, which I noticed was dry now. I clung to her. I felt like a sissy. I needed my Mommy, just like I did when I was a little kid and skinned my knee. She could kiss it and make it better, but now… this… this she couldn’t kiss and make it better. Only Karen and Susie could make it better. HA! Yeah, like they’d make it better anytime soon.

Mom just rocked me, just like she did when I was a little kid. I didn’t care; I needed her right then. I needed to know that my mother still loved me and would… would what? I didn’t know what; I just needed a hug and some TLC.

“It’ll be over before you know it. You know you can’t let the girls know it bothers you, or they’ll lay it on really thick. I’m going to suggest that they dress you in something a little less fragile. This is a nice dress, intended to be worn out somewhere. A girl would have to be doing something genteel wearing it. Between Karen and Susie, I’m sure they have plenty of plainer dresses, something like they’d wear to school if the school insisted girls wear dresses, like they did in my day.”

This dress is really girlie. I didn’t mean they should wear dressy clothes, just dresses or skirts. You know, like real girls.

“You know, what you need is something to keep you busy. When you were helping me decorate the cake, you seemed to really enjoy yourself and forgot what you were wearing.”

“Yeah, I did. I did enjoy myself and forgot about the dress.”

“You know if you acted like it was no big deal. If you treated it like wearing a dress was some kind of non event, you’d demonstrate the point you were trying to make when you got into that dumb bet that ended up with you being in this dress in the first place. Do you think you could do that?”

“What? Just do things like I always do and ignore the clothes?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean, ignore the clothes.”

“Well, I don’t think I could totally forget the clothes. A lot of things I do, girls in dress shouldn’t do because… well, you know, dresses don’t really cover things as well as pants.”

“Yes, I know, but if you’ll try, I’ll help by giving you things to do that are interesting, like I did after lunch with the cake.”

I looked at her doubtfully. We drew straws; I got the short straw. “What do you mean? It could have been Susie or Karen who decorated the cake. I just got the short straw.”

“Yes, you did. I planned it that way.”

“How? How could you plan what straw Karen and Susie drew?”

“Well, promise you won’t tell?” I nodded. “Did you notice that when I held out the straws, I used both hands?” I thought about it… She did use both hands. I nodded again. “All three straws were the same length and I had Susie and Karen draw first and then before I let you draw, I used my thumbnail to shorten your straw.”

“You cheated and made me get the short straw?” How could a mother make her son get the short straw?

“Yes I did. I knew that whoever did the dishes would get done quicker. If you had been one of the ones to do dishes, you would have ended up at the mercy of the one who helped you. By making sure that you helped me, it kept you busy longer and the girls had to amuse themselves. I saved you having to interact with them one on one. I think Karen would have only been annoying, but Susie would have really gone out of her way to humiliate you. She seemed way too smug when she pulled that trick on you to win.”

“It was a trick! I knew it. There was something she didn’t show me. But… but… you… you could have showed me. Why didn’t you?”

“No sweetie, it wasn’t what you didn’t know that prevented you from doing it; it’s that you’re a boy. Just like we said. The trick was that you didn’t know that some things are physically impossible for boys, because their bodies are put together differently than girls.”

“What? How? OK, I know that girls have boo… ah, breasts and aren’t the same, you know, down there,” I nodded toward my crotch, “but there’s something else?”

“Well, yes. Women and girls, who have started to develop breasts, have more weight in their hips, while men and boys have more weight in their shoulders and chest. What’s more, women and girls have smaller feet in proportion to their height, so when they measure the distance from the wall, they, proportionally, aren’t as far from the wall as men and boys. That combined with the weight in their hips helps them pick up the chair and stand. While men, with longer feet, making them stand farther from the wall, and the weight in the shoulders and chest combine with the weight of the chair make it harder for men to stand up. The chair puts them off balance forward. Do you see?”

“Kind of, but not really.”

“OK. The weight in a woman’s hips, counter balances the weight of the chair and she can still stand. While the weight of the chair combines with the man's upper body (chest and shoulders) weight to pull him into the wall, so he can’t stand.”

“So, if a boy had more weight in his hips, he could stand up with the chair?”

“Well I suppose that’s true.”

“I’ll bet Larry Ferguson could do it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, he’s got a real bubble butt and he wears small shoes.”

Mom chuckled. “You really shouldn’t say ‘butt’, you should say buttocks.”

Thinking about “bubble butt Ferguson” made me smile. I’ll have to have him try it in secret and see if he can do it. If he can, maybe I could use it to win a bet with some dumb girl.

“Well,” Mom said, “if you’re going to pull this off, you need some lessons in how to handle yourself in a dress or skirt. I can guarantee you that if Karen or Susie had caught you sitting like you were they’d have used it to argue against them wearing dresses and teased you mercilessly. Want some pointers? I sent Karen and Susie to the store, so we’ll have some time uninterrupted.”

“Sure,” I said. What the heck, I might as well. I could be wearing them for a week.

“Well, I already told you that you should smooth the skirt when you sit. Stand up and practice that for a few times.”

So I did. I had to think about how I saw women sit in skirts and dresses. They always at least had one hand smooth the skirt against the back of their legs. I tried it with both hands and then with one hand. It was easier with two hands, but my right hand was better at it than my left. I guess that’s because I’m right handed.

“OK,” said Mom. “I think you’ve got that pretty well. You can practice that more on your own. The next thing you need to know it that when girls wear a skirt, they always have to keep their knees together, for obvious reasons.” I nodded. “There are some easy ways to help you do that.

“OK, sit back and put your knees together.” I did. “Now the easiest way is to cross your legs, but do it knee over knee, not ankle over the knee like some men do.”

I crossed my legs, keeping my thighs together and my knee over the top. OK, so they stayed like that. “But Mom, when a girl crosses her legs in a short skirt, it kind of shows a lot of leg… if you know what I mean.”

“That’s true, so a woman has to be careful just who might see her when she crosses her legs in a short skirt. Another way that’s more discrete is to put your feet to one side and cross your ankles.” She demonstrated.

I tried it. Actually, it was quite comfortable. I remembered that I had seen lots of girls sitting that way, but I never really thought about why. I just thought it was a girl thing.

“Of course, there’s the feet wide apart with the toes turned in, so that the knees are forced together,” she said demonstrating that, “but I don’t think that’s all that attractive.”

Neither did I. But I tried and it worked, sort of, but I didn’t think it was really comfortable either. It looked awkward and felt awkward.

“OK, lesson number two. Stand up.” So I did. She picked up the TV Guide off the end table and threw it on the floor. “There. Pick that up for me please.” I gave her a look that said, “Really Mom!” but I bent over to pick it up. “Freeze!” I had one foot slightly ahead of the other, bent at the waist with my right hand on the magazine. “Anyone behind you can see farther up your skirt than you want them too and anyone in front of you can see down your top to your belly button.”

I looked down. Sure enough, I could see the waist band of m… the slip as well as the entire bra. How is it I have boobs? I never did before. I stood up quick, forgetting the magazine.

“How am I supposed to do it?”

“Like this,” Mom said standing. She took two steps toward it, stooped and retrieved it and stood. “Now you try it,” she said, throwing it back down. I stooped and picked it up.

“Much better,” Mom informed me. “Never bend at the waist. Too many girls’ clothes have an open neck line that will grant an inappropriate view down the front and sticking your rear in the air really isn’t a great idea even when you’re not wearing a skirt. The skirt only compounds the problem by exposing the back of your thighs.

“Today you didn’t get to choose what you wore, but when choosing an outfit, always think about what you’re going to be doing in that outfit. If you’re going to be working in the kitchen and want to wear a dress, you should be sure that the hemline is long enough that when you reach up to the top shelf in the cupboard that you’re not exposing anything you don’t want to.”

Yeah right. Like I’m likely to get to choose my own outfits this week and I for sure won’t be wearing this stuff after the week’s over.

She stood thinking for a bit. “Well, I guess that’s about it. I can think of things a girl would learn in charm school, but all I really think you need to know is how to keep from embarrassing yourself. Preventing down the blouse or up the skirt views is really all you need to worry about. Gestures, posture and phrasing aren’t things you really need to concern yourself with.” She smiled.

Just then, the Karen came in the front door. “Remember, never let them see you sweat,” Mom whispered. She then spoke to Karen. “Thanks for going to the store for me. I needed that stuff for dinner. And since you did the fetching, Francis volunteered to help me prepare the meal. I’m sure you don’t mind getting out of that now do you.”

“No Mom. Not in the least. Susie’s Mom wanted her to come home. I’ll be in my room listening to my tunes.”

I volunteered to help with dinner? I don’t remember that.

Mom took the sack from Karen and nodded for me to follow her into the kitchen.

“I’m sure you’d rather be in here helping with dinner than at Karen’s mercy. She’ll avoid this area so long as there’s work to be done.”

Mom had that right. Karen wouldn’t keep her room clean if Mom didn’t ride her and threaten to take her stereo away. OK, so I’m not that much better, but at least I didn’t have my friends come over and help me trash it. I didn’t really spend that much time in my room anyway. Sad thing was I lived too far away from any of the guys at school to have them come over anyway and I never went to their houses either. I guess you could say I was a loner. Maybe that’s why I was so interested in what Susie wore and did.

As Karen’s stereo kicked in, Mom strapped me into the penny, or whatever, apron. Mom has a special way with meatloaf. I stood and watched as she got out the ingredients. She had me put the raw hamburger in a big bowl and crack three eggs into it. Then the fun part, YUCK! Using my hands, I had to mix the eggs with the hamburger. Then she had me add some other liquid ingredients, like tomato sauce mixed with brown sugar and some Worcestershire sauce and added some salt and pepper and finally bread crumbs to make it dry out. Finally, following Mom’s instruction, I put it in a loaf pan and into the oven, which she had preheated while I was playing gushy, gushy with the hamburger and eggs. I was never happier to wash my hands than I was after that. Next I was peeling and cutting up potatoes and putting them on to boil, but that had to wait a while, since the meatloaf would take an hour in the oven. The veggies were easy; I just measured out two cups of frozen corn and put in a bowl. Two minutes in the microwave was all it would take, so Mom told me to wait and do it while we put everything else on the table.

“You know, Francis, you could have done this whole meal by yourself. Maybe I’ll turn you loose in the kitchen one day and see how you do,” Mom said as she helped me set that table. “You really seem to have a natural talent for cooking.”

Yeah right, like she really did anything to get dinner ready, besides tell me what to do. … Ah, well, I guess, if she hadn’t told me, I couldn’t have done it at all.

“Karen shows no interest in the kitchen at all. God help the man she marries. I hope he knows how to cook,” Mom complained. “At least my other daughter … Oops, sorry Francis, after the way the day has gone, it’s almost as if you changed into my daughter. Sorry, sorry, sorry, I know you’re really my son no matter if you make a better daughter than my real daughter.”

Oh great! I make a better girl than my sister, just what every boy wants to hear.

Mom came over and hugged me. “Francis, I didn’t mean to suggest anything with that slip. And you know, you would do well to learn to cook, with so many girls acting like Karen and Susie, you may just need it to survive marriage,” she teased.

“It’s OK Mom; I know you didn’t mean anything.” uncharacteristically, I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Actually, it was kind of fun. I think I could do this dinner on my own sometime. There really wasn’t anything hard about it. I know that you have it all in your head, but you do have a recipe around I could look at to get the ingredients right if I needed it right?”

“Sure, right here,” she said, showing me her recipe box, she opened it up and pulled out a three by five card labeled, “Meatloaf.”

“There are lots of easy main dishes in here. Look, here’s Swiss steak; that’s really easy, and Pot Roast. I like that one, because you just peel potatoes and carrots, cut them up and put them right in the pan with the roast and they all come out together ready to serve. Well, except to cut the meat, and I usually get your father to do that. I could just give you the recipe card on any of the casseroles I make. With your natural talent, you’d have no trouble with them either. How about I keep you out of reach this week by having you help me in the kitchen, so Karen and Susie won’t have a chance to embarrass you so much. Who knows, you just might turn out to be a world class chef?”

“Well, I guess it would be better to be busy, instead of just setting around brooding over what they have me wearing. I mean, while we were fixing dinner, I didn’t really think about what I had on.”

“That’s the spirit. I think that maybe, you just might shame Karen into being more girlie after all. All you have to do is be my surrogate daughter and show her how it’s done; then you can tease her about how easy it is. ‘It’s so easy, a boy can do it,’” Mom laughed. “You know how she always says that boys aren’t all that smart, well, you can be smart enough to be a better girl than she is.”

In a weird way, Mom made sense. I mean, when she started talking I was thinking she was loony as cuckoo bird, but then it kind of clicked.

“Yeah, beat her at her own game,” I agreed, kind of getting into it. “I’ll show her there’s nothing wrong with wearing dresses, learning to cook or any of that girlie junk she and Susie are always trying to avoid.”

Mom hugged me again. “Well, let’s get the kitchen cleaned up and we can kick back until it’s time for the meatloaf to come out of the oven.”

It only took a few minutes to rinse out the bowl and the other tools we used to prepare and wipe down the counters and we were indeed kicked back watching TV while the meatloaf baked.

About forty minutes later, Dad came in.

“Hi dear,” Mom said. “How was your game?” as she gave him a quick peck hello.

“It was tough to do, but I shot a 98.”

“A 98? But you usually shoot in the low 80’s.”

“I know, but Smithers was having real trouble today and I need to top his 94. I had to develop a nasty slice on the back nine to make it look good.

“What smells so good?”

“Oh, Francis has a meatloaf in the oven. Francis, you’d better put the heat on under the potatoes, so they’ll be ready to mash when the meatloaf is done.”

I went into the kitchen and turned the burner on.

“Francis has a meatloaf in the oven?” Dad asked, following me.

“Yes,” Mom said. “He’s been very helpful today. He frosted the chocolate cake we’re having for dessert and he made the meatloaf, peeled the potatoes and has the corn ready to go into the microwave. He’s got the table set and the only thing, really, left to do is mash the potatoes and slice the meatloaf. I think it’ll be Karen’s job to wash dishes.”

“She won’t like that Mom,” I told her. “She washed dishes for lunch.”

“I know dear, but the cook is exempt from washing dishes.”

Dad just stood and looked at me with a kind of disbelieving look.

Dad got himself a can of soda out of the fridge and we stood around the kitchen talking while the potatoes came to a boil. Mom turned the heat down so they wouldn't boil over.

“Karen’s music is kind of loud,” Dad observed. “I think I’ll ask her to turn it down. How long ‘til dinner?”

Mom looked at the timer. “Give it about fifteen minutes.”

Dad nodded and headed for the stairs. Mom stood there smiling at me.

“What?”

“Oh, I was just thinking. Usually, it’s Karen in here, although reluctantly, helping with dinner and you playing your music too loud. It seems there’s a bit of a role reversal.”

I grinned, “Yeah, except she’d never be wearing a dress.”

Mom nodded. “You got that right.” Just then the timer went off and she handed me some hot mitts. “Take the meatloaf out of the oven and set it here on this rack,” she instructed.

I got my first lesson in how not to open the oven. I just bent over and pulled it open. There was a blast of warm, moist air that hit me right in the face making me jump back. Mom chuckled. “Now you know why I always stand to the side of the oven when I open it. Your grandmother says it’s worse when you wear glasses, they steam up and you can’t see.”

I recovered and got the meatloaf on to the rack like Mom said. Using a spatula, Mom got the meatloaf away from the sides of the loaf pan. Then she set a timer for ten minutes.

“We need to let the meatloaf set a bit before we slice it,” she explained. She handed me a fork. “Stick the potatoes. If the fork goes in easily, then they are ready to mash.”

It did and I poured off the water and Mom instructed me how to use the mixer and mash the potatoes, adding a generous pat of butter and some milk. I scooped the potatoes in to a bowl. The frozen corn went into the microwave and we sliced the meatloaf and got it onto a plate.

“Dinner,” Mom called as I put everything on the table.

Karen was really subdued during dinner without Susie. Aside from a couple of looks, it was almost like I was wearing my normal stuff. I wondered if she might be feeling guilty.

Turns out she was just down about having to wash dishes. I spent the evening practicing all the moves that Mom had gone over during the afternoon. Each time I sat, I made sure to smooth my skirt and then cross my legs at the ankle and put them off to the side. Dad kept giving me strange looks. Karen went to her room about 9:00 to catch up on her e-mail.

A half an hour later, having nothing else to do, I stood and announced, “I’m going to bed. I’ve been on my feet a lot more today than usual.”

Dad said, “Before you go up, I’ve got a few questions.” He looked at Mom and then back at me.

“OK,” I said, smoothing my skirt as I sat back down.

Dad gave his head a little shake. “That’s exactly what I want to talk about. What’s with that feminine move… smoothing your skirt like that? And the way you’re sitting? You’re more girlie than your sister ever was.”

“I’ll field that one,” Mom interjected. “Francis’ whole point when he made the bet was that the girls, Karen and Susie weren’t being girlish. All he really wanted was for Karen and Susie to act more like girls. They’ve both made excuses that it was just too much bother. Well, now they’ve backed Francis into a corner where he’s going to have wear dresses for a week, so I pointed out he could beat them at their own game and show them how easy it was to act like a girl. ‘So easy even a boy could do it.’ I showed him a few tricks that girls of my day learned or figured out by the time they reached their teen years, so he could prove to them that it wasn’t ‘too much bother.’”

“So, putting a dress on didn’t turn you into a sissy?” Dad wanted to know.

“I don’t think so. I just don’t want to embarrass myself while I have to wear this stuff. So I was glad that Mom pointed out what I need to do to keep from exposing my underwear. Can you imagine what a field day those two would have if I sat the same way I usually do, or did anything that would show a girl’s underwear. They may have won the bet, put I still can make my point about being feminine.”

“OK,” Dad said, “I get your point. It’s just a little disconcerting to see my son being a better girl than my daughter.”

“That’s the point.” I smiled and stood and headed upstairs.

As I approached my room, Karen came out. “Oh,” she said, “I just put your nightgown on your bed. Sweet dreams.”

“Nightgown?”

“Yes, you complained about what I wear to bed and I’m sure you meant to have me and Susie wear nighties to bed… so guess what? …”

She left that hanging as she went into her room and closed the door. Looking in on my bed, I saw a pink confection that I recognized as a babydoll nightie that Karen had received as a birthday present from one of our aunts last year. She had brought it in complete with matching panties.

Oh well, it was in the bet.

I found out what the sticky things in my… I mean the bra were all about. They were some kind of falsie or whatever to make girls look like they had more boob. When I took off the bra, I examined them and figured out they just kind of peeled off… looking at the bra, it would have fit funny without something in it, so I guess it made sense to put them in there. What I found interesting, in a kind of perverse way, was that they stuck on and clipped together and the girls had put them on a little ways apart and then pulled them together to fasten them. The net result was to move the loose skin on my chest together so that it looked like I had some cleavage. Kind of cool actually.

Come morning, I was confused. What the…? Why am I wearing Karen’s nightie? Then it all came rushing back. Dumb bet. A real dumb bet.

Nature called and I answered. As I came back, Karen was there knocking on my door. “Oh, there you are. Here, here’s your clothes for the day. Mom said that I should give you something a little more practical to wear. So this is a plain skirt and blouse. However, your underwear is all girlie… just like you think Susie and I should be wearing.” She handed me a pile of clothes. “I’ll be right back with some shoes that’ll work with that outfit.

Yeah, she was right, the underwear was really girlie. The ivory colored bra and panties matched and were covered with lace. They even had a matching full slip. The blouse she picked out was a simple white blouse with one of those rounded collars. You know the kind that doesn't have any point, they just curve back to the buttons and sleeves were those little short puffy sleeves with the tiny cuff and button you can't unbutton.

"You need any help getting dressed?" Karen called through the door.

Not on your life! "No, I'll be fine," I called back.

"Be sure to put everything on... panties and all."

"I will."

"I could check, you know."

"That won't be necessary."

I pulled off the top of the baby-dolls and began wrestling with the bra. I say "wrestle" because there was no way I could get it fastened behind me. My arms just didn't bend that way and even if I could, the catch mystified me. I took it off and examined the fastener. No big mystery there. Just two hooks that hooked into a couple of rounded horseshoe shaped things. I hooked and unhooked them a couple of time and tried again. Again, I couldn't manage. Maybe it's that this bra is smaller than the one from yesterday and it just won't reach. I turned the thing backward and stretched around me to see if the ends actually met and they did easily. I even clipped them together. Well then, why can't I hook them behind me, I thought as I studied the catch in front of me. Then I had a great idea. Maybe I don't have to hook it behind me. I remembered how they had slipped the straps off my shoulder the day before when they put those jelly things in.

So I spun it around and, with a little effort, I managed to get my arms in the straps and slide them over my shoulders. Looking down, I could see why they wanted to put the jelly thing in the cups. They just looked dumb hanging there all limp and everything. I didn't know just how the things worked, but, if a girl can do it, it'll be easy for boy to figure out. I messed with the clip thingy until I was sure that I understood it. OK, I asked myself, just how do you stick these things on? I slipped my arms out of the bra straps again and made a few false starts at positioning the gadgets until they made the cleavage thing when I pushed them together. Then I clipped them and put the bra straps over my shoulders again. Looking down, I felt proud of myself for figuring out how to do it. I fondled myself a little, fascinated with the fact I had boobs. Finally, I came to the realization that I had to finish getting dressed. I swapped out the baby-doll panties for the ones that matched the bra; I knew enough about how women wore their lingerie that I knew the slip went on next.

Now there's an experience. As the slip cascaded down my body, I got goose bumps. The first day, I was too upset to notice the feeling of the clothes, what with Susie and Karen there taunting and pushing me to put this on, put that on. But today, I took my time and noticed everything. The slip was slick and cool and when it rubbed across the panties, there was just something special about the sensation. I don't know how to describe it. It's just not like anything I experienced wearing boys' clothes. I put the blouse on and fought the stupid buttons. They were on the wrong side. How could they do such a dumb thing? Maybe girls really are dumber than boys and just didn't notice that the buttons were on the wrong side, I thought. I'll have to ask Mom about the button thing. The skirt was a gray, pleated, knee-length thing with a button and zipper. I knew enough to know that the zipper went in back and it wasn't rocket science to know that the waist would be too tight to tuck the blouse in once the button was fastened, but still it wasn't exactly easy to fasten the button and zip the thing up.

Once I was done, I realized that Karen hadn't brought me the shoes or socks. I started for her room and found the shoes and socks sitting outside my door. The shoes were some complicated flat shoe that had a strap kind of thing that laced back and forth over the foot and fastened with Velcro on the outside of the shoe. The socks were lace topped anklet that I knew needed to be folded down. Actually, the whole arrangement was kind of nice, once I figured out how the get the shoes done up. The socks were light and wouldn’t make my feet too warm and shoes kind of felt like tennis shoes, only lighter.

I had to see just what the whole outfit looked like, so I headed for the bathroom where we had a full-length mirror. I could see why she gave me a full slip. The blouse wasn't sheer or anything, but it was thin enough that I could see the lace on the slip through it.

Over all, I looked like a girl, except my hair was a mess. A mass of curls that just didn't have any style. I mean, before my hair didn't have any style, it just hung there and did pretty much what it wanted to. I hadn't had a real haircut since just before Christmas when Mom wanted to get some photo Christmas cards and insisted that everyone look sharp. Since then, I'd had a trim during Spring break and here at the beginning of summer; it had reached my collar in the back and was well over my ears. It kind of looked cool in a punk rock sort of way only the front was kind of a pain because it hung down in my face. But all in all, I liked the long hair thing. But what I saw in the mirror, I didn't like. It reminded me of some old time child actress I'd seen on television, Shirley somebody, from back when movies were in black and white. Only her hair looked like something, mine was just unruly curls. I tried to brush it out without any success. I got really frustrated and headed off to see if I could find Mom. She was in the kitchen pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Mom, look at my hair! Those girls goofed it all up! What'd they do to it anyway?"

"Oh! That does look terrible. It wasn't so bad yesterday and I thought the curl would relax some overnight. Did you try brushing it?"

"Yeah, it's like it's a bunch of springs and just kind does what it wants to. I'm going to have to shave my head when this is all over."

"Well maybe not. Let me see what I can do."

With that, she scurried off and was back in a few minutes with her shampoo and conditioner.

"They must have left the curling agent in too long or maybe they didn't neutralize it well enough. But with a little luck and a couple of shampoos and another set, we can get the curls to relax into something we can work with. Take off your blouse."

I did, but I've got to tell you I felt really uncomfortable in just a slip and bra on in the kitchen. "Where's Karen?" I asked as I unbuttoned the blouse.

"She and Susie went shopping with Susie's Mom."

"Oh good. That'll keep 'em away for the morning and maybe even into the afternoon."

Mom looked at my chest for a minute then reached out and slipped her fingers inside the bra cup and pulled it back, peeking inside. "Ah," she smiled, "I see you've discovered the secret to your sister's instant bust-line last year."

Mom took me back to the sink and bent me over it again. She worked just like Susie had the day before, only she was a lot more vigorous and washed and rinsed three times. I thought about the flowery smell, but I wasn't about to object if there was a chance that my hair would straighten out. Of course she conditioned it as well, but only once. I guess the conditioner wasn't part of the straightening process.

When she was through, she wrapped my hair in the turban thing and told me, "OK, you can put your blouse on again."

As I started buttoning it I again struggled with the buttons. "Mom, what's with these stupid buttons? They're backwards, you know, on the wrong side."

She laughed. "Well back when the conventions for how women's clothes were made it started out 'ladies' had people to dress them. So the button worked the other way so that the servants could manage them easily. Men, apparently, thought it wasn't 'manly' to have someone button their clothes for them, so the buttons went on the way you're used to."

"But women don't have people to dress them anymore. So why don't they put the buttons on the other side? I mean it sure would be easier to work them."

"Well," she told me as she guided me down the hall to her room, "you may be right, but when you grow up with your buttons on that side you get used to it. Besides it's good practice for when a woman grows up and has little boys that need to be dressed. They're used to the buttons working that way and it's easy to dress them."

She took me into her bathroom and pulled the towel off my head. She brushed out my wet hair and then opened a case I’d never really noticed before, though I’d been in there before. It had rollers in it. Kind of a fancy case for rollers. They must be special, that’s why Karen and Susie didn’t use them, I thought.

She sectioned off my hair, kind of like they did yesterday and started winding the rollers in it.

“Hey, those are warm,” I said in surprise.

“Yes, they’re hot rollers. They’ll help dry your hair while they curl it.”

“But isn’t the object here to take the curl out of my hair?”

“Well, yes, but in order to do that, we need to stretch it out while it dries. These rollers are a larger than what the girls used yesterday and the result will be softer curls. You won’t looks so much like Shirley Temple.”

Shirley Temple, that’s the name of the actress I was trying to remember earlier.

Mom worked deftly and in short order, she had my hair all done up in rollers again. Man, they were they warm. I guess that’s why they call them “hot rollers.” Then Mom got out her blow drier and started drying my hair with that. I was sure that between the heat of the rollers and the drier combined I'd have a roasted brain by the time Mom was through. I didn’t care really, so long as my hair looked better. Now that’s funny. Yesterday at this time, I didn’t care what my hair looked like; I didn’t even think about it, but now it was all that was on my mind.

It must have taken about a half an hour before Mom thought my brain had cooked enough and turned the blow drier to cool and that sure felt good. Another fifteen minutes or so and she said, “Well, you haven’t had breakfast. Let’s get you something to eat and then we’ll see how successful we were.” She pulled a kind of net cap over my head and we headed for the kitchen.

I had some cereal and she nuked her coffee. Twenty minutes later, we were back in her bathroom where she unwound the rollers.

“Yes, I think this’ll be much better,” she said, as she plucked through it with her fingers. She took her brush and started brushing it this way and that. “You know,” she said, “if we want this to look decent, I really should trim it a little to give it some shape or it will never look good.” She looked at me almost pleadingly.

I glanced in the mirror and had to agree. I looked a lot better, but it still didn’t look like much. “OK,” I shrugged.

She draped a towel around my neck, brought in the stool from her vanity and had me sit. Taking her scissors and a comb in hand she began snipping at the back and sides I looked down at the floor and saw she wasn’t really taking much off.

She saw me looking and said, “I’m only trying to even up the ends, so it’ll be symmetrical.”

She then started combing it up from underneath, clipping little bits as she went. After she been all around a couple of times she took her brush and really brushed it. I mean she really brushed it a lot and hard. As she worked on the front, she kept shaking her head. She put down the brush and ran the finger of her left hand into my hair starting at my forehead. She stopped with her fingers arched and the heel of her hand resting on my forehead and grabbed the scissors and clipped off a bunch. Maybe two or three inches. I began to worry just what she was doing. I almost said something when she repeated the process a little bit to the right and then again to the left. After brushing it a bit she nodded and shielded my eyes as sprayed my hair all over with hairspray.

“There, what do you think,” she asked, turning me toward the mirror.

My mouth flew open. I really looked like a girl! I mean, I looked like me only I looked more like my sister than my sister. It was like I had a twin an identical twin sister. Only if I had an identical twin it couldn’t be a sister, because identical twins have to be the same sex or they’re not identical, are they. But still there she was in the mirror, a female version of me. I was so shocked that all I could do for a long while was just stare. Finally, I reached up and touched my hair. Yeah, it’s me, but this hair… Oh… My… God!

“Ah, Mom? Will this go away? I mean what… this is too weird.”

“The girls gave you a permanent. But it’s not as permanent as it sounds. Your curls will relax as time goes on. But odds are that you will always have some wave in your hair until it grows out and you cut it off.”

“But you know after this week, I have to look like a boy again.” I was nearly in tears.

“I know, but don’t worry. There are boys with curly or wavy hair. We’ll just get you a more masculine cut and it’ll all be fine.

I wasn't too sure about that, but I had to trust Mom. I mean, what else could I do now? The girls had done their dirty deed and now I had to live with it. Push comes to shove, I could get a buzz cut, I reasoned.

Mom, true to her word, kept me busy. We tackled the house cleaning. I vacuumed and dusted, while Mom did laundry. To be fair, she gave me my choice and I thought about all the things I'd heard about washing and remembered the time Mike Kowalski had done his own wash when his mother was in the hospital and ended up with pink underwear. I sure didn't want to be responsible for that. I wasn't sure just what Mom did to prevent that, but I knew that she knew some sort of trick.

When we broke for lunch, Mom had me fix it. I just opened a couple of cans of soup and while it was heating, I made tuna salad and fixed two sandwiches. We ate outside again. This time, I wasn't as concerned about people seeing me, because it was Monday and everyone, including my Dad was at work.

After we'd cleaned up from lunch, Mom said, "Well, Francis, I think I'll just turn you loose to cook dinner tonight. Look through my recipe box and pick out something you'd like to make."

I blinked a couple of time and went to box and began thumbing through the "main dish" section. I remember what she said about pot roast and asked, "Do we have everything for pot roast?"

"Yeah, I think so. Only we should have thought about it yesterday," she said, opening the freezer. She studied the package and then got a little booklet. "I think we can thaw this in the microwave."

Our microwave was new and had a "turbo defrost" feature that would thaw out things quickly. Mom programed it with the dexterity of a gamer and popped the roast in. It took about half an hour and required it be turned over halfway through, but Mom said we could just leave it in the fridge till about three and then cook it. Meanwhile our afternoon was open.

"You know Francis, your presentation as a girl is almost perfect."

"Almost?"

"While not every girl wants to be a girlie girl, I agree that feminine is a good thing for a girl to aspire to and feminine girls your age tend to use some make up. You know, while we have the afternoon to ourselves, it might be interesting to see just how far you could take it. You've already got the painted nails; just some mascara and lip-gloss would definitely tip the scales to take away any doubt, should someone see you, that you're a girl and not a boy dressed up as a girl."

"I think I'll pass on that one Mom," I told her.

She smiled. "OK, forget I asked. It's just that I'm having a good time with a daughter willingly experiencing learning womanly arts and makeup application is definitely a womanly art."

"I'm not really your daughter, you know. But I agree that we're having fun with this, but the 'womanly arts' I've been learning so far are things I can use as guy, when I go out on my own. There's one thing I think I should learn, not that I want to do it all the time, but next week, when you do the laundry, could you explain how you keep the things from fading one color to another? I mean Mike Kowalski did his own wash and ended up with pink underwear."

Mom smiled. "A common mistake. You just need to read the label on clothes for a hint. Most say something like, 'wash with like colors.' That means that whites only go in with whites, well maybe really light pastels, like peach, lemon yellow or lime green, in light pastels. And as far as the colored clothes go, it's usually good enough to wash light colored clothes together and separate from dark colored clothes. Jeans, especially if they are new, should be washed separately. Dark reds and navy blues the same. Not so much if they're old and have been through several wash cycles. But yeah, I'll show you next Monday."

I decided that I'd do some reading I'd set a goal of reading ten books over the summer. And so far I'd only read one. I got my copy of "The Hobbit" and without thinking took my usual place in the lounge chair on the patio. I was lost in the story, trying to discover how Bilbo was going to outsmart Gollum, when I heard them (Karen and Susie, not Bilbo and Gollum) in the kitchen.

I put down my book and went to see what they were carrying on about. "You two sound like a couple of magpies. What's got you so excited?"

"Oh, Hi Fran," Karen said, "Susie got the coolest jacket."

Susie looked at her and they locked eyes for a moment and Karen gave a slight nod.

"Come on, it's in the living room we'll show you." They each took an arm and escorted me to the living room. When we reached the door, Karen broke away and dashed to the chair and picked up the jacket. It was a denim jacket with a rhinestone and stud starburst pattern on the back. It was kind of cool.

"Well, hello Fran. I've heard so much about you. You do look really good."

I spun to my right to see Susie's Mom standing there.

"Turn around, let me get a good look at you," she said, making a twirling motion with her hand.

Dumbly, I did as requested.

"My, my," she said, shaking her head. "You know; if I didn't know I wouldn't know. You know, Susie, you've got a lot of dresses that would fit, that you could give Fran. Why don't you take Fran over see what she'd like?"

She'd???

"What a great idea," Karen said, grabbing my hand. Susie grabbed the other and I was propelled right out the front door. I didn't even have time to worry about what the other neighbors might think about me dressed as a girl before I was ushered into Susie's house and on to her room. Susie slid her closet door open.

"Agh! Finally, I'm able to get these frou-frou things out of my closet. My grandmother keeps sending them and I have to put them on for Mom to take a picture to send her. And Mom acts like it's a crime when I want to take them off," she said as she began taking dresses out of the closet and holding them up to me. Some she handed to Karen who laid them on the bed; others, she tossed on a chair. "God, I can't believe that my mother wants me to give this to Fran. These," she said holding up a gaudy little girl dress, "are years old, yet she doesn't want me to throw them away. Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. They're all going to be donated to Fran." With that, he relegated the little girl dress to the chair.

All in all, Karen laid eight dresses, six skirts and ten blouses on the bed. All of them were really feminine, but the skirts and blouses tended to be more casual than the dresses.

Nothing would do but that I try them all on. Thank God I was wearing a slip, so I could maintain some of my modesty while I changed outfits. Some of the dresses and one of the skirts went over to the chair because the waist was too tight. I ended up with four dresses and five skirts. All of the blouses were deemed, "a good fit."

My arms were piled high with the clothes and again I had to brave the outside world. As we reached the sidewalk, Mrs. Johansen magically appeared. She was our neighbor on the other side; a young mother leading her little girl toward home.

"Well, hello Karen, Susie," she said as she looked at me curiously.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Johansen. This is my cousin, Fran. She's visiting this week and the airline lost her luggage, so Susie is loaning her some clothes," my sister glibly lied.

"Nice to meet you, Fran. I hope the airline finds your luggage." There was something about the way she looked at me that made me uncomfortable.

"Let's get you back to our house, so you try on those clothes," Karen continued, though I’d already tried them on. Whatever, it gave us an excuse to get away.

Glad to be away from Mrs. Johansen, I mumbled, "Nice to meet you too," and headed up our walk.

"Let's put those things in your closet," Mom said as I came in.

In my room Mom stood by my closet, which was mostly bare. I was surprised to see a lot of empty hangers in there. I only had two pair of slacks and three shirts that needed hanging up. Well there was the suit that I almost never wore. She took the things from me and hung them one by one commenting on how nice each one was. I was looking around the room and noticed a pile of panties on my bed.

"Mom, what are those there?" I asked, nodding toward my bed.

"Oh, when Karen left with Susie, I gave her some money and asked her to buy you some underwear. It's not sanitary to wear some else's underwear."

Mom hung the last dress and looked pleased with herself. "There," she said, "all set for the rest of the week. You can take the tags off and put your new undies in your drawer. Then come down and get started on dinner."

The panties that my sister bought me were really lacy and in those pastel colors Mom talked about being OK to wash with whites. I couldn't believe the frilly, lacy confections that populated my underwear drawer when I got through. Karen had bought twelve pairs and when I started putting them away, I found there was already a pair in there.

As I fixed dinner, Mom sat at the kitchen table and watched, just to make sure I didn't do anything dumb and to answer questions if there was anything I didn't understand in the recipe.

As I peeled the potatoes, I asked, "Mom, Karen bought twelve pair of panties. Why so many? I mean, I've only got five more days in the bet."

Mom chuckled. "Well, I've always told her, a girl should have a dozen panties at any given time, so I guess she just bought for you like she would for herself."

"Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not a girl and besides, there was another pair already in my drawer."

"That would be the third one from the nylon set I foolishly bought her. When I hit her up on making you wear panties, she assured me that what you were wearing were the nylon ones that she'd never worn."

"She doesn't plan to take back the ones I've already worn?"

"Then it would be her wearing unsanitary panties. So I guess you have fifteen pair of panties."

"Fifteen? What am I supposed to do with fifteen panties after the week is over?"

"I don't know," Mom said. "Some boys like wearing panties. If it turns out you do, then you're all set."

Yeah, right Mom. Like that's about to happen.

"Ah, Mom, I guess I should tell you that when we were coming back from Susie's, Mrs. Johansen talked to us and Karen said I was her cousin and was visiting for a week."

"Well, I suppose she needed to say something to explain your appearance. Did she seem to believe the story?"

"I guess, she said she was glad to meet me and all."

"Well then, no harm done."

I was in the kitchen getting the plates out of the cupboard when Dad walked in. He looked me up and down, studied my face for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh nothing," Dad said and turned to go back to the living room. I was sure I could hear him mumble, "Maybe, just maybe."

At dinner, Dad had an announcement. "Well, it became official today. You all know that I played golf with Mr. Simmons. That was just the beginning. Up until this morning my days were full of meetings. I couldn't say anything until it was official, but at today’s staff meeting, I was promoted to regional sales manager. The corporate CEO flew in to make the announcement himself."

"Congratulations, Hon, I know you've been up for it and that you've worked very hard for it," Mom said.

"Yeah, congratulations Dad," Karen offered.

"Way to go Dad," I put in.

"Well, that leaves us with a small problem."

"What's that dear?" Mom wanted to know.

"Our CEO, Mr. Crenshaw wants to take my family out for dinner, day after tomorrow. I told him my son Frank was gone this and that his 'cousin' Fran was here. He just said to bring her instead of Frank."

I felt my eyes go wide.

Dad focused on Mom. "Is there any way we can get Frank to be an unmistakable Fran?" he wanted to know.

Mom nodded. "I was just telling Fran this morning that with a little makeup, no one would question that Fran was anything but a girl."

"Can you make that happen by tomorrow at five?"

"Wait! Wait," I interrupted. "Can't Fran just go home and Frank, I mean, couldn't I just come home early?"

"I suppose you could, but unless Susie and Karen are willing to tell you to wear your suit tomorrow evening that would mean you welching on your bet." Dad looked at Karen.

"I'd rather see just how girlie we can get him. Susie gave him some really nice dresses today, so finding something for him to wear won't be a problem," she answered.

Well, Mom got her wish. I was being tutored in the womanly art of make-up.

"Why do I need to do this myself? Can't you just put it on for me before we leave?"

"Yes, Fran, I could. But where would be the fun for me?"

"Mom!"

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but I told you before that I'm wishing that my daughter, OK, Karen, would be a bit more feminine, but since she's not and you're Fran for the week… You're my substitute. I'm really enjoying this. I hope you can indulge me."

"Oh, alright. I'll just chalk it up to showing Karen that being girly is 'so easy even a boy could do it.' I'm just scared that I'll poke my eye with this mascara thing."

Mom chuckled. "All girls go through that. Just lean into the mirror, put the brush up to your eye lashes and blink and move it closer. That will give you a feel for just where your lashes are. You can apply it that way if you want, until you get used to how to do it."

Until I get used to how to do it? Like I'm going to need to do this after today.

Karen, of course, told Susie that I was going to be out in public as Fran and that Mom was teaching me how to do my makeup. She was waiting for me when I came down with my makeup on.

"Gosh, Fran, you really look good. I mean for a girly-girl. I'd never want to wear makeup like that, but you look good in it." She was grinning like she was teasing, but I could see some admiration in her eyes. I decided to play it up.

"No big deal. It was easy. I think you'd look good with a little makeup… you too Karen. I don't see what the big fuss is about this feminine thing is." I knew I was laying it on thick. It wasn't easy to do the makeup thing. I had to mitigate my statement a bit to keep from getting called on it. "Oh, at first it was quite a shock, you know all the girly stuff, but now that I'm used to… no big deal. You should try it." There, the challenge. I looked at Mom; she was grinning ear to ear. She knew exactly what I was doing.

"Look, the dress you've chosen to wear tonight needs shoes to look right. My shoes are alright for satisfying the bet, but if we're going to pull off Fran, the visiting niece, you're going to need some new shoes." Mom informed me. "So I think we need a practice run at being in public as a girl. Let's hit the mall and see what we can find."

"Oh cool. I get to take my brother shopping for his own girl's shoes. Can Susie come with?"

Mom saw the panic on my face. "Aaaa, no, I think it should be just Fran and me. She's nervous enough without you two whispering comments and suggesting really inappropriate stiletto heels. And don't pretend that you wouldn't." She??

"Come on Fran. Let's go. You really do need the practice."

There I was dressed in a skirt and blouse, my hair all curled in an array of feminine delight and in full makeup (OK, mascara, blush and lip gloss) walking into a mall with my mother. To say I was nervous would have been the understatement of the year.

"Mom, do we really have to do this? I mean, someone is bound to recognize me as a boy in girl's clothes."

"If I thought that would be the case, we wouldn't be here. Your Dad really needs you to pass as a girl and to do that you need to be confident of your ability to do it. The only way to get that confidence is to do it where it doesn't matter and risk the exposure to see that it really isn't such a risk. Trust me, you look really good and if you'll just relax, you'll do fine. Look, this mall is way across town from where any of your friends might be, so there's no danger that any of them will see you. Anyone who doesn't already know you will never even suspect unless you give them reason to."

"I'm still scared stiff."

"I know honey. We'll just walk around the mall for a bit. Kind of keep an eye on people and I'm sure you'll find that they aren't paying any attention to you. After you get a feel of just how convincing you are, we'll find a shoe store and get you a nice pair of shoes to go with your dress."

As we walked down the main concourse, my eye darted back and forth trying to catch someone looking at me. No one seemed to take a second glance. In fact, I didn't catch very many even at a first glance. No one seemed to be at all interested in me or Mom or what we were doing. I began to relax.

Well, that was until Mom decided to go into a store. I hesitated and Mom stepped back and almost whispered, "It's OK Fran, we're just going to walk through. We might stop and look at a few things. I just want you to get used to being in a store." I nodded and followed her in.

Same scenario as in the mall; no one was interested in us. We strolled through the ladies wear department and Mom paused to look through the dresses a time or two, and then it was back out to the mall. I didn't balk at all at the next store and when we were going through the women's section, we were in the "junior's" dresses and I even joined Mom in looking at them. There were some that were kind of nice.

Mom saw me looking and said, "That one would look really good on you. Do you want to try it on?"

For a moment, I almost said yes. "Mom, no, I'm just looking."

Mom grinned, motioned with her head that I should follow her. To my surprise, we ended up in the shoe department. She started picking up different shoes, much the same way I'd seen her examine tomatoes at the super market. It didn't take long before a young saleslady, approached. Her name tag read "Ann"

"Can I be of any assistance?" Ann asked.

I was nearly ready to faint because I knew what was coming. I was going to have to interact with this woman. I steeled myself to the task as Mom answered her.

"My daughter has a formal dinner to attend and has the perfect dress, but no appropriate shoes. It seems her feet have grown recently and nothing that still fits will do. We're looking for something in an ivory with a modest heel."

Ann smiled and said, "We have some lovely shoes for younger ladies just over here," and led the way across the area. She picked up an ivory, or was a cream colored shoe? I'm not sure how to tell the difference, only I guess "ivory" sounds more elegant. The shoe in question had a slightly pointed toe and the short heel that looked like it had been taller, but got squished down. Just under the shoe, it necked down to a quite skinny size but then spread out to about three times that width. The shoe was open in the back with a buckled strap at the heel.

"This slingback has a sophisticated look and the heel will be quite stable for a young lady who doesn't often wear heels." She handed the shoe to Mom and then picked up another with a slightly higher heel in a lemon yellow. "We have this in ivory as well. The heel is a bit taller, but you notice," she turned the shoe upside down, "that the heel is wider than it is long, giving it a sophisticated look while still adding to the stability." She handed that one to Mom as well.

Turning, she picked up a white shoe that had a really narrow heel. "Now if you want a true classic stiletto, this comes in an off white that would complement the dress."

"I think we should try all three, don't you Fran?" Mom asked, looking at me.

I looked at her wide eyed and shrugged. "I guess."

"Well, since your feet have grown, I guess we should measure your feet," Ann said, addressing me directly for the first time. I just nodded and she gestured toward a row of chairs. I sat down and she sat side saddle on one of those funny little things shoe salesmen sit on and picked up that metal thing they use to measure feet. She slipped my shoe off and had me stand on it. "Nine and a half D," she announced. With that, she stood and headed back into the bowels of the store.

"Mom, there's something wrong with that measuring thingy. I wear a seven, not a nine and a half and isn't a D a wide width? I've never gotten a wide width before."

"Just wait and see. You'll be surprised."

Ann returned a few minutes later juggling not three, but six boxes. "I picked out a few others that are in another display I thought you might like as well," she said as she stooped and put the boxes on the chair next to me. Sitting sidesaddle again, she slipped off the shoe I'd just put back on and taking the first selection from its box, slipped on my foot. "Shall I put the other one on so you can try walking in them?"

Before I could answer, Mom said, "That would be a good idea."

On went the other shoe and I stood and nervously made my way to the table with the display, I turned and walked back and sat down, self-conscious about scooping my skirt as Mom and Ann watched.

"These are fine, let's get them."

"Honey, Ann went to a lot of trouble to bring other shoes for you to look at. You should at least try them on and see if maybe she's found something better," Mom insisted.

I wanted to argue, but the look on Mom's face told me something was wrong.

"OK, I just thought that 'Ann' might want to get to another customer. I mean we're only buying one pair of shoes."

"Oh, don't worry," she told me. "I've got lots of time. Every customer is important. You may be only buying one pair today, but if I can get you what you want and give you good service, you'll be back and ask for me."

Yeah, right, like I'm going to be buying girls shoes again anytime soon.

Out came the other selections and nothing would do, but I put each pair on and walk around. All went fine with me going through the motions until I tried on the fifth pair. They were two-tone sandal with a wedge heel they had muted gold and cream woven straps. What was really surprising was that they felt really comfortable and were by far the easiest to walk in.

"I wasn't sure about those," Ann said. "You said formal, but for a young girl, that may just be formal enough and yet make a statement about her age, as in age appropriate."

The problem was I did like them. I couldn't believe that I almost blurted out 'I want these,' but at the last moment, I bit my tongue and held my piece. I acted cool about it, but perhaps not cool enough.

The last pair were those spikes and I couldn't even walk it them. "I wondered if you could manage them, but I thought you should have the experience."

I gladly slipped out of them. Ann looked at Mom with her eyebrows raised. Mom asked me, "Did they all fit OK?" I nodded yes, "Well, what do you think?" Mom asked. "Which pair do you think we should get?"

"Well, I think that the first pair I tried would be best for dinner."

"But?"

I looked at her and blinked, and then shook my head and shrugged.

"That sounded like there should be a 'but' after it. Something like, '… but I really like…' …"

I just looked at her, not knowing what she was driving at.

Mom looked back to Ann and said, "We’ll take the kitten heel slingbacks and the gold and cream wedge sandals."

If I hadn't been sitting I'd have fallen over. Two? As far as I was concerned, I didn't even need one and Mom was buying two.

"Would you like to wear the sandals home?" she asked. I dumbly nodded and Ann slipped them back on my feet and put my shoes in their box.

Ann stacked the boxes and took the two we were buying to the register. Mom followed and paid, while I sat in stunned silence staring at my feet. What the H E double hockey sticks am I doing? Really wearing sandals home and they're not even the shoes I'll wear to dinner tonight.

"Come on honey," Mom said, breaking my questioning train of thought.

Mom and I stopped for a late lunch on the way home, more practice she said. By the time we left the restaurant, I had gotten into character, as they say in the drama department at school. The truth was I had begun to enjoy the whole experience. It was a kick to be out amongst people and have them treat me like a girl. It was like playing and enormous practical joke on the whole world.

Karen met Mom and me when we came in. "Whadya buy?" she wanted to know. I handed her the sack with the shoe boxes and headed into the kitchen. She opened the one with slingback heels in it; then asked, "What's this?" when she opened the other. "These are the shoes you wore out of the house." I looked down at my feet. "How cool!" shouted Karen when she saw my sandals. "How come you bought two pair?"

"We'd pretty much decided on the slingbacks when Fran fell in love with the sandals," Mom supplied.

Dad stepped in from the kitchen and looked down at my sandals. "Then why didn't you just buy the sandals?"

"It was my idea," Mom confessed. "The slingbacks are really the kind of shoe Fran should wear with that dress, but when I saw the look in her eye when she tried on the sandals, I just had to get them for her."

No one seemed to blink at the feminine pronouns and in truth I didn't think about them until much later. I was afraid that Dad would be angry and make us take back the sandals. I didn't know or is that think about the fact I'd worn them home would preclude the store taking them back.

"Well, Fran, for a week long bet, you’ve amassed quite a wardrobe," Dad observed, shaking his head as he headed back into the kitchen.

Karen was ticked. She had to wear a dress to dinner as well. As I mentioned, she rarely wears dresses. She was acting all snippy toward me until Mom pointed out, that even if there had been no bet, she'd be wearing a dress that night anyway.

"At least now, you have Fran for company," Mom told her.

Karen brightened at that and spent the rest of the drive to the restaurant grinning at me. As we walked into Ruth’s Chris Steak House she leaned toward me. "As much as I don't like this, you've got to hate it worse."

The funny thing was I didn't. I didn't dislike it at all. The dress was comfortable to wear, the shoes were easy to walk in and when Mom and I got through with my makeup, I thought I looked great. OK, for a girl, but still… anyway, after our little outing that morning I was getting real rush being out in public dressed as a girl. Nervous as all get out, but excited as well. It was hard to tell which was the strongest, nervous or excited, or where one left off and the other started. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was sure that I was some kind of weirdo for enjoying it, but I was pushing that thought way back; I filed it in the "deal with it later" file.

As we perused the menu, Mom said, "I think the petite sirloin and salad would be good for you girls. As a matter of fact, I think I'll have that as well."

So much for the 16 ounce T-bone and baked potato I was eyeing. Oh well, I guess that's what a girl would order. Karen seemed happy with it. Dad's CEO fussed over Karen and me… it seemed that he made a bigger deal over me. He pointed out, over dinner that he was in favor of promoting men who had good relationship with their families. "Certainly your dad fits that bill," he told me. After we'd said goodbye and were walking toward the door, he touched my elbow nodded for me to walk a little way away from the others.

"Your dad confessed about your bet. He explained that he was a man of honor and was raising you to be the same. You are a very brave and honorable young man. The fact that your dad supports you in this speaks highly of him and you for honoring the bet. I only wish I knew my sons would do the same in the same circumstances. By the way, if he hadn't told me I'd have never known." He smiled and shook my hand. "If I'm still CEO when you start looking for a job, apply with us and use me as a recommendation. I'll see you get a shot, even if I have to bring you back to corporate."

Just then Dad noticed I wasn't with them. "Fran, did you get lost. I hope she wasn't being a bother."

"I was just telling Fran of my admiration for the two of you."

My ears were burning and I'm sure my face was red. The CEO and Dad exchanged knowing looks.

"Dad, why did you tell your CEO I was a boy? I thought the whole idea of me getting my hair done and wearing make-up was to make sure he thought I was a girl."

"Look I'm sorry. I didn't know he was going to tell you he knew, but when he told me he was going to be back for both Christmas and the company picnic every year… well the odds he'd see you again was just too great. I had to make sure that when he did there wouldn't be any questions. So I took a bold approach and told the truth."

"God, I was so embarrassed when he told me he knew."

"Well, he's totally OK with it. When I told him, he told me that one of his grandchildren was transgendered. Born a grandson and now was a pretty granddaughter.

The next morning, Karen was up and dressed before I got out of bed. I was just coming back from the bathroom when I saw her heading for the stairs. I took a quick look in my bedroom and saw she hadn’t put out any clothes for me.

“Hey Karen, what do you want me to wear today?” I called after her.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face me. “Well, since it so easy for you to be girly, why don’t you pick out a nice dress or coordinate a skirt and blouse for yourself? As a matter of fact, you can do that the rest of the week. I’ve got better things to do than be your wardrobe consultant,” she called back in a whiny tone.

I was tempted to put on my regular clothes, since it was obvious she had lost interest in trying to get to me, with outcome of the bet, but I thought better of it. She didn’t say, “Wear whatever you want.” She said, “Pick out a nice dress or coordinate a skirt and blouse for yourself.” And, she indicated I was to do that the rest of the week. OK, a dress or skirt and blouse. I suppose it could have been a test to see if I’d welch on the bet or maybe to see how badly I’d blow it being girly on my own, without her guidance and then she could say that she couldn’t be bothered to dress my feminine because it was so easy to screw up the outfit. So I went online and did a search on teen girl’s fashion. I was appalled at the amount of pants outfits I saw. Don’t girls wear skirts and dresses anymore? What I did learn, was that white and ivory go with almost anything.

So I dug through my closet and pulled out all the blouses that were white or ivory. I found six total. Four white and two ivory. I laid each on the bed, three to a side and then I got out all the skirts. I’m kind of partial to full skirts on girls. You know the kind that are kind of swishy when they walk. So I concentrated on those and laid them over the blouses. I came across a light gold skirt with ivory print flowers. I got a great idea.

I ended up wearing an ivory blouse with that gold skirt. I then put on my sandals the one’d that mom decided to buy that I didn’t need. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Something was missing. I opened a drawer and found a lipstick supply. There was one that was only slightly lighter than my lips. I carefully applied some and looked again. Good to go. I’ll show her a coordinated outfit.

With all that happened, the shopping, the lunch and the dinner out, I was feeling pretty casual about being seen by people, so I didn't think anything of it when Mom asked me to get the mail. As I was locking our mailbox back up, Mrs. Johansen walked up carrying her daughter. I thought she was going to check her mailbox, but she just walked up and talked to me.

"You're Fran, right?"

"Ah, yeah."

"Is your time here pretty full? I mean, do you have time that you could do something for someone?"

I wasn't sure just where that would be going, but I did have time. I mean, I was kind of limited as to where I could go.

"I suppose, what did you need?"

"I have a job interview tomorrow and I need someone to watch Christi for me. I'd ask Susan, or Karen, but they've both turned me down before. I guess they don't like babysitting." She continued in a rush, "I'll pay you. I really need this job. I'm sure you know that my husband lost his job and is working in Seattle and can only come home for the weekends and paying for a place for him to stay up there is really putting a strain on our finances, what with keeping up the mortgage on our house. We'd sell, and move up there, but the housing market is so bad we're upside down in the mortgage. So can you watch Christi for me tomorrow?"

"Uh… I don't know, I'll have to ask my m… aunt."

"Could we do that right now? If you can't, I'll have to make some phone calls to see if I can come up with a sitter."

I didn't really know what to do. I really thought she might need someone to help her carry something, or do some, like, five minute chore. "Well, I guess." Shrugging, I went back to the house with Mrs. Johansen following. I went in and thankfully, Mom wasn't in sight.

"You can wait here, and I'll see if I can find my … aunt," I told her.

Mom was in the kitchen making out a shopping list.

"Mom, Mrs. Johansen is in the living room. She wants me, Fran, to babysit tomorrow, so she can go for a job interview," I said softly.

She looked at me and then leaned and looked as if she could see into the living room. She started to speak when Susie and Karen appeared out of nowhere.

"Fran should totally do it Mom."

Mom shushed her and led us all out to the patio. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I mean, she could find out that your brother is Fran."

"Not a chance. Our girl Fran here has fooled everyone. No one has even blinked when coming into contact with her. Did the shoe clerk even blink when you bought Fran's shoes?"

"Well, no."

"This whole thing is about being feminine, isn't it? Well, babysitting is practicing to be a Mom; what could be more feminine?"

Mom seemed to consider this twisted logic for a moment and I was afraid she'd tell me something about the bounds of the bet, but she surprised me.

"OK, I'll leave it up to you Fran. If you want to you can. Just be sure that you don't give her any reason to suspect that you're not what you appear to be."

"Is she paying you?" Susie wanted to know.

"She said she would."

"Then if you don't, you're just chicken."

I should have told her that she must be chicken because she'd turned down the babysitting job, but no, my mind just didn't put that together. "I'm no chicken!"

"Then take the job."

“Oh good, you’re here. Come on in,” Mrs. Johansen said as she answered the door. “Christi has been fed and is watching cartoons.” She led me to her living room. “Christi, Fran is here to take care of you while Mommy’s gone.”

Christi looked up and nodded. I was nervous as a cat. I’d never taken care of kid before.

“She’s really a good kid. Easy to take care of; she’s potty-trained, so there’ll be no diaper changing.” I nodded. “Your… aunt said if you had any trouble, you should just call her and she’d come over. You have your cell phone, don’t you

“Yeah, right here,” I replied, holding up my phone.”

“Here’s my cell number call me, so I’ll have your number and I’ll call you if I’m going to be late.” I dialed her number as she got her phone out of her purse. It rang and she nodded. “Oh look at the time. I’ve got to run,” she said as she hurried to the hall closet. I’ll be back in about three or four hours. The longer I’m gone, the more likely it is that they’ll hire me.”

With that she was out the door and it was just Christi and me. “Momma’s gonna get a job,” she said.

“That’s right. She’s gonna make lots of money.”

“Wanna see my dolls?”

I guess that’s the attention span for a two-year-old.

Christi really was a good, and easy to take care of. We had a tea party with all of her dolls and stuffed animals, seven of them. I read three stories out of her books. Time flew by. It was 11:30 when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi Fran. Hey, I’m going to be a little longer than they thought. They want me to take some kind of aptitude test. That’s a good thing, I think. It must mean that they want to see if I’m suited to the job. Can you make Christi some lunch?”

“Ah yeah, sure. What kind of thing does she like?”

“It doesn’t need to be fancy, just a sandwich and some milk. You can ask her if you want, but I’ll bet she wants PB&J.”

“OK, I can do that.”

“Fix something for yourself. There’s some stuff in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you’d like.

“Oh, gotta go. They’re ready for me. I’ll call later.”

We were out in the back yard a couple of hours later and my phone rang again.

“Hello?”

“Hi Fran. It looks like it’ll be after four when I get home. They want me to talk to one more person, who won’t be available until three. Even if it’s only five minutes, what with the bus schedule, it’ll be after four, probably closer to five when I get home. I don’t know what I’m going to do for dinner. I have some hamburger thawing in the fridge. I guess it’ll just have to be hamburgers on bread. I don’t have any buns.”

“Ah, look, my mom has been teaching me to cook, I can make meatloaf for you if you’d like.”

“Could you? I don’t want to take advantage of you. I only hired you to babysit, not cook.”

“I don’t mind, I’ve made it before, it’s really easy.”

“Well OK, if you don’t mind. That’s what I was planning anyway. I’ll make it up to you. Look, why don’t you stay for dinner. You will eat your own cooking, won’t you?”
I laughed. “Yes, I do it all the time. I’ll call my mom and let her know. Good luck.”
“Thanks, I hope I won’t need luck, but if that’s what it takes to get the job, then I’ll take it. See you later. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Mom? It’s me Fran.”

“Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, Mom, everything’s alright. Mrs. Johansen just called and she’s going to be late. They had her take some tests and now they want her to talk to one more person. Anyway, she’s not likely to be home much before five. When she worried about dinner being late, I offered to make meatloaf for her. Could you bring your recipe card over for me?”

“OK, I’ll be right over. I’ve got a pot roast going for us. When you weren’t home by one, I decided to do it myself.”

Mom was true to her word. I was looking through the cupboards for the ingredients I remembered when the doorbell rang a few minutes later.

“Here’s your recipe. Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t think so. I was just getting the ingredients ready.”

“I’ll stay until you make sure you have anything.”

Mom followed me into the kitchen and watched, grinning as I got everything assembled.

“She doesn’t have any Worcestershire Sause.”

“I’ll be right back,” Mom said.

I preheated the oven and got a bowl out to mix in. I was taking the eggs out of the carton when Christi asked, “Whatcha doin?”

“I’m making meatloaf for dinner. Your mom is going to be a little late so I’m fixing dinner.”

“You know how to cook?”

“Some things. I’ve made meatloaf before.”

“I like meatloaf. Can I help?”

“OK, let’s wash your hands.”

I pulled a chair up to the sink and helped her into it and we used dish soap to wash up with. I helped her down and had just moved the chair when mom let herself in with the Worcestershire Sause.

“Christi wants to help make the meatloaf. She’s washed her hands and is ready to go.”

“It’s never too early to start learning to cook,” Mom observed. She watched as I plunked the hamburger in the bowl and mashed it down and cracked the egg in to it. Christi looked on with wonder.

“You ready for the fun part?” I asked Christi. She looked up and nodded. “You ever make mud pies?”

“Yeah, but momma doesn’t like me to. I get all dirty.”

“Well this is kinda like making mud pies, only we won’t get all dirty. Let’s see if I can find us some aprons.”

“I know where they are,” Christi announced and hopped off the chair. She was back in a flash with a long white apron and a blue one that didn’t have a bib.

“Alright, I think this one will work for you,” I told her taking the blue one. I helped back onto the chair and had her lay the white one on the counter. I brought the straps over her shoulder, crossing them behind her back and wrapping them in front, crossing them again; I finished off by tying them behind her. It looked a little funny, but it gave good coverage.

“Very creative,” Mom observed. “You going to be OK here? Or do you want me to hang around?”

“No, I’m good now that I have the recipe,” I told her as I donned the white apron. It was plain. None of the fancy ruffles or anything like the penny thing Mom had.

“OK then, call if you need anything.”

“OK Christi, are you ready for the fun stuff?” she looked up and nodded. “What we have to do is mix the eggs and the hamburger really good. We get to do it with our hands.”

I demonstrated and then let her try it. In the end, both of us had our hands in the bowl at the same time. Christi giggled and I laughed.

“This feels really yucky,” she said.

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

We went through the whole process. I measured and she poured and we mixed. While I had decided that I enjoyed cooking, having Christi help made it truly fun. Once the meatloaf was in the oven, I peeled potatoes and cut them up. I had Christi pick out a vegetable and I let her get it ready to go in the microwave.

By the time Mrs. Johansen showed up, we had set the table and mashed the potatoes. I told Christi to push the start button on the microwave. Mrs. Johansen watched in awe as Christi walked over, stretched up on her tippy-toes and pushed the start button.

“Well, aren’t you a clever little girl? How did you know what button to push?”

“Fran showed me.”

Mrs. Johansen looked at me.

“She said she wanted to help make dinner, so I let her help me mix in the ingredients in the meatloaf. But I wouldn’t let her peel the potatoes or work the mixer. I told that I needed to do that by myself. She wanted to do something by herself. So I supervised as she measured out the vegies and put them in the microwave. She needed to be involved so I showed her how to set the time to cook and where the start button was, so she could push it,” I explained.

“So,” Mrs. Johansen said to Christi, “you did the vegies all by yourself?” Christi proudly shook her head yes. “Well, you certainly are getting to be a big girl. I’m so proud of you,” and she picked her up and gave her a big hug.

“Were you a good girl for Fran?”

“Un huh.”

“You were?” Mrs. Johansen looked at me.

“She was great. We had lots of fun.”

“We did momma, we had a tea party and Fran read to me and we had lunch and she let me pick out television after so my lunch could settle down before we went out in the back yard and she pushed me on the swing and everything.”

“Oh my, did you get that out all in one breath?”

Christi nodded and grinned.

“So you and Fran had a good time?”

“Yes momma. Can I have Fran for a babysitter every time?”

“I don’t know sweetheart, we’ll have to see.”

Mrs. Johansen insisted that I stay for the dinner I made and gave me $ 20 besides.

Saturday, tomorrow, all this insanity comes to an end. To my surprise when I came down for breakfast, Karen was nowhere to be seen. I got myself a bowl of cereal and some juice. Mom was out on the patio with a cup of coffee. I decided to join her. I mean, why not. Both our neighbors had seen me up close and personal, so what’s the harm if they see me in the back yard?

“Hey, Mom,” I said as I sat down. “Where’s the pest and her side kick? I expected since this is the last day, they’d be sure to exercise their option to insist I wear something fancy for my last full day as their fashion slave.”

“Karen said something about her and Susie meeting some other girls at the mall to hang out and then they were going to take in a matinee. Since Susie gave you all those dresses, she’s not really taken much of an interest in exactly what you wear. She told me that as long as it was a skirt or a dress and all that goes with it, it doesn’t matter. I guess hanging out with her friends is more fun than tormenting her brother when he’s not responding.”

I grinned. “Well at least that much of our plan is working. I wonder if she and Susie will give in and dress more like real girls after all this.”

“I don’t know. But I want to tell how proud I am of you for the way you’ve comported through all this. By simply submitting and trying your best to comply with the terms of the bet, you’ve taken the wind out of their sails and carried yourself with dignity through it all. In reality, you have the ability to be a better daughter than Karen has ever been. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a good kid and never really gives me any grief, but when a mother thinks of having a daughter, she thinks of doing the things you and I have this last week. I only wish I could take you shopping and have you show the same enthusiasm for it that you do for cooking. That would make it complete.”

I chuckled. “I think that if you and I went shopping and you bought me a dress or a skirt, Dad would think I’d gone completely around the bend. He’d be putting me in touch with Mr. Crenshaw’s granddaughter so we could compare notes.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think your dad would be OK with a son who had a strong feminine side.”

I looked at her in disbelief. “So you’re saying that I could cross-dress after this is all over and he’d be OK with it?” I’d done some web surfing and found out there were men who did just that. Cross-dressed and yet stayed men, unlike Bruce/Caitlin Jenner, and wore women’s clothes when the mood struck them.

“I’m sure it would come to a shock, since you’ve never shown an interest in such things before, but after his rational mind wrapped itself around that and he remembered that you are blood of his blood and bone of his bone, he’d love you just the same and be OK with it.”

“Well I don’t see that happening.”

Mom smiled. “Well, when this is all over, I, for one, will miss Fran. You can’t blame me for wanting more of the daughter I’ve always wanted Karen to be.”

“So where is Dad?”

“He decided to work today, to get up to speed on his new position.”

“So it’s just you and me today then?”

“Yeah,” mom smiled and continued, “my last chance for some mother daughter time with my favorite daughter.”

I finished my breakfast and took my dishes inside. I got out mom’s recipe box to see what I could fix for dinner. Mom came in and saw what I was doing.

“You know, since we don’t know just when everyone will be home for dinner, why don’t we do some stew in the crockpot. We can put in this morning, on high for a couple of hour and then turn it down to low and let it simmer all day. That way when your dad and Karen come in they can just dish up a bowlful and eat.”

“Can we do that?”

“Sure.”

She opened drawer and got out small booklet and showed me the cover. “Slow Cooker Recipes for busy families,” it read. After thumbing through it, she opened it to a page with a stew recipe.

“We got this just after we got married and before our first microwave. We got a crockpot for a wedding gift. I don’t use it much, since I don’t work anymore, but these are tried and true recipes and your dad and I really liked this stew. We’ll have to double the recipe, because this book was written for newly married couples and the servings aren’t all that large.”

She got out some stew beef and did the microwave trick to thaw it and after separating it, she even cooked it a bit on half power. After that, she had me cut up some celery.”

“We’ll cheat a little bit and use some canned vegies.”

I was surprised at just how quickly the whole thing went together. She used beef stock for the liquid and by the end we had a crockpot full of stew that just needed to cook. When we were through it was just after 9:30.

“That’s all there is to dinner?”

“Yep, when we were newlyweds, I’d get it all together the night before and put the crock in the fridge. First thing in the morning, I’d put it back in the base and crank it up on high while we got ready for work and then just before leaving, turn it down to low. It was great to come home to the smell of stew that only needed dishing up.”

I went outside with my book to find out what Bilbo was up to now he’d escaped Gollum. I read a bit, but Mom’s words kept jumping into my head.

“When this is all over, I, for one, will miss Fran,” and “I only wish I could take you shopping and have you show the same enthusiasm for it that you do for cooking. That would make it complete.”

Mom had been great this past week. While she did help the girls in the beginning, she did show me how to beat them at their own game. I was closer to her now than I had ever been. She made this whole ordeal seem like an adventure of some kind. I thought about all the outfits I’d worn this last week and I couldn’t see where Karen and Susie had any complaints about wearing dresses and skirts. They were comfortable, and on hot days they were cool and they were sure a lot more stylish than any of the boys’ clothes I’d worn. I mean, just what kind of fashion statement can you make with jeans or cutoffs? Your only choice was the kind of shirt you wore with it. You know some bands’ concert shirt or some souvenir of a neat place you went to for vacation. The only good thing was I didn’t have worry about coordinating an outfit. Anything goes with jeans and tennis shoes. If I was a girl, I’d sure wear dresses and skirts at least half the time.

No doubt about it I was lucky to have my mom as a mom. With all she’d done to help this last week I wished there was something I could do the let her know just how much I appreciated her. “…take you shopping and have you show the same enthusiasm for it that you do for cooking. That would make it complete.”

I couldn’t believe it when it went into the family room where mom was watching a game show and asked, “Mom, I’ve heard that women sometimes go shopping and don’t buy anything, is that true?”

“Well yeah, when we have time and we just want to get out of the house, we go to the mall and trawl the stores, just to see what’s available. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I really appreciate how much you’ve helped me this last week while I was paying for my stupidity and I got to thinking about what you said.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Ah… I … ah… you said that if you could take me shopping that it would me it complete, you enjoyment of me being your daughter for the week, I think you meant.”

“Well, yes, I think I’d really enjoy that. Is this conversation going somewhere?”

“I… ah… I want to do something nice for you. I don’t want you to buy me anything but we could go to that same mall where we bought my shoes and you know, do the mother daughter shopping thing. … for a little while. You know while Dad and Karen are gone. But we couldn’t tell them about it ever. OK.”

She got up, wrapped her arms around me and gave me hug like I hadn’t had in years. When she pulled back her eyes were glistening. “Oh Fran, I couldn’t ask you to do that. That was just wishful thinking.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. I mean, you showed me that wearing these clothes didn’t have to be torture. I mostly forgot what I was wearing and, well, sometimes it was kind of nice.” I said, looking down.

“You want to do this for me?” I nodded. “Really?”

I kept looking down and shook my head yes. “Mom you do so much for all of us and we kind of take it for granted. You very seldom say what you’d like us to do for you. And well you want to take your daughter shopping and spend a day out with her. Karen won’t do that and after this week, I’ll be your son again.” I looked up at her and continued, “I’ve been out and nobody noticed I wasn’t really a girl, so it’s no big thing for me and I want to do something nice for you. If we can just make sure that Karen or Susie doesn’t find out, I can do it. Heck, now that I’m comfortable in these clothes, I think I’d even enjoy it.”

“OK, temporary daughter of mine. Let me do a little tasteful make-up on you like I did for that dinner at Ruth Chris and slip into something nice and we’ll hit the mall for a couple of hours.”

I was surprised at just how calm I was walking into the mall. Mom and I wandered in and out of every ladies wear shop we came to. We looked at all kinds of things. Mom tried on some outfits and modeled them for me. More than once a sales clerk asked if there was something I’d like to try on and I told them that I was just there to keep Mom company while she shopped.

A little after noon, Mom insisted that we get some lunch. I was thinking food court, only Mom took me to The Cheese Factory instead. I had lunch in keeping with my girl persona. Mom suggested a Cobb Salad. It was mostly greens, but had egg, cheese and bacon. It was really good. So good, in fact, I might just order it again sometime.

After lunch we went back to the mall. I was getting into this mother-daughter shopping thing. I helped paw through the racks to find dresses for mom to try on. In one shop I was showing Mom a really nice dress. It was a conservative cut dress; fitted on top with a full skirt that would be about knee length. It was a soft blue with navy and red print. I thought it would look classy on mom. As she was considering it, a sales clerk who had greeted us when we came, showed up with the identical dress in a small size.

“I’ve been watching you two and I can see that you have a very special mother-daughter relationship. I think you two would look darling in mother-daughter outfits.”

Mom looked at me with a gleam in her eye. “I know you said that you didn’t want me to buy you anything, but I’d love to see how we look together in these,” she said quietly. I could tell she really wanted it. Oh what the hey… I nodded and the sales clerk showed us to the fitting rooms. Mom took one and I took the other. Mom and I both needed help with the zipper, so we met in the hallway and zipped each other up. Out we went to that big three-way mirror that all stores seem to have. We each took a turn looking at ourselves and then squeezed in together for a mother-daughter look. It didn’t work really well. The sales clerk helpfully suggested that if we had a smart phone she could take our picture and then we could really see how we looked. I nearly panicked. Up to now, there was no recorded evidence of my time in skirts. I looked at Mom as she fished her phone out of her purse. I could see by the look in her eye that she really wanted the photo. So, when prompted, I smiled. Not once, but three times in different poses. The one we both liked was with me in front of Mom, a little off to the side with Mom’s arm over my shoulder.

As we went back to change, Mom stopped me as I came out of the fitting room door. “Sweetheart, forgive me, but I have to buy these dresses, even if you never wear yours again, I just have to buy them.” The look in her eye was pleading as if she was asking my permission. I had to go along with it. It would be the only time she could buy this daughter a dress. I nodded and fought back tears as I went out to and pretended to look through the racks again.

We got home about four in the afternoon. Mom carried her bag, so I opened the door. I found out what she meant by coming home to the smell of stew simmering. It was like walking into heaven. We went straight to the kitchen and dished up a couple of small dishes of the stew and ate them. It was only about three spoonfuls each, but oh God it was good.

“We better not eat any more,” Mom told me. “Your dad just might make it home for dinner and we’d better put these dresses away.” She nodded her head in the direction of the stairs; a clear indication I should follow. We went to her room and she took the dresses out of the bag, pushed everything to one side in her closet. She hung my dress in the closet against the wall. Oh my God. My dress; I have a ‘my dress’. Not ‘the dress’ or ‘Karen’s dress’ or ‘Susie's dress’, but ‘my dress’. Mom hung her dress in front of it, covering it and then pushed her other clothes back over, effectively hiding them. It made me sad to think that I had a dress and would probably never see it again, let alone wear it.

Mom turned and saw my wistful look. “I know what you’re thinking honey. But you know there will be times when it’ll be just you and me around the house, and until you outgrow it, we can put them on for a few hours and be mother and daughter again.” It was easy to hear the wistful, hopeful tone in her voice. I just nodded and headed for my room.

I lay back on my bed, book in hand intending to find out if Bilbo would be able to find a way into Smaug’s den but my mind kept wandering. ‘All who wander are not lost’. Isn’t that what Gandalf said? That may be true, but I was lost, lost in thought; torn in two different directions. On the one hand, I wanted to be sure that no one but Mom knew about our mother-daughter dresses. On the other I wanted to wear it and go places with my mother, to let everyone who saw us know that I so respected my mother that I wanted to be just like her. Oh crap, how can I be like my mother, I’m a boy… OK, OK, so I look good as a girl, but I’m a boy and can’t go around dressed in matching dresses with my mother.

I still hadn’t turned a page in my book when Mom called me down. “Set the table, will you dear? Your father just called. He’s on his way home. We’ll eat with him. I talked to Susie's mom and she said that Susie called a while ago and told her that she and Karen were going over to Angela’s and would, and I quote, ‘pig out on pizza’ so she won’t want any stew when she get home later.”

Dad was home about fifteen minutes later and we sat down as an abbreviated family for dinner. “So,” Dad wanted to know, “what did you two get up to today, while Karen and I were out having fun?” I’m sure his “having fun” was tongue in cheek for his part anyway.

“Well, Fran’s week with us is drawing to a close. Since this is her last full day with us we took advantage of the time for a little mother-daughter bonding.”

Dad looked at Mom like she was crazy, and I’m not so sure she wasn’t. But then, if she’s crazy then so am I, because I was right there bonding with her.

“Mother-daughter bonding?”

“You know. Karen’s not exactly my clone. I think she takes after you more than me, whereas since Fran has been on the scene, I’ve discovered a kindred spirit in her. I doubt that that spirit will be in evidence when it’s Frank again. So we just did mother-daughter things.”

“I’m not sure I want to know just what those things were.”

“You probably don’t. Just know that Fran, whether son or daughter gave me a wonderful day that couldn’t have happen if it had been Frank here instead.”

I think Dad was in a hurry to change the subject and I was grateful. Though he didn’t change it much. “I imagine you’re pretty anxious to get this last day over and done with, aren’t you son? Come noon tomorrow, you can put this whole thing behind you.”

Son? I don’t feel much like a son today. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?”

I shrugged. “I’ve really gotten pretty used to the clothes, wearing them 24/7 and all. But I suppose it will be good to get things back to normal.”

Thinking about it, Dad must have gotten pretty used to me being Fran. He didn’t seem to notice that I was wearing make-up and in truth, I had totally forgotten about it as well, that is until I cleared the table and saw the lipstick mark on my glass. It was pretty faint, but there just the same. I suppose most of it had come off when I ate that little bit of stew when we came home. But when I checked the mirror in the bathroom, the mascara and blush were still noticeable. But like you do with most girls, I think he just looked past it.

After dinner, I went back to my room to read again. Actually I think I wanted to put off thinking about Sunday and putting Fran away. I gazed at my open closet door. Whatever am I going to do with all those clothes that Susie gave me? My closet was brimming with feminine finery. For that matter, my underwear drawer had become a lingerie drawer. Karen had put four bras in there, informing me not to bother to give them back because she was two cup sizes larger now.

Sunday morning dawned bright and early. I usually slept in, but I awoke with the robins and couldn’t go back to sleep. I decided that I was going to make a final statement about just how easy and comfortable being girlie was. I put on the frilliest panties and bra that I had, topped with a full slip and the dress I chose was a flirty caramel sleeveless, scoop neck with a knee length full skirt and I wore those sandals that mom bought when we had that dinner to go to. It was the first time I’d worn them since I came home from the store. I reasoned that they were expensive and I needed to get some use out of them. I was struck again with how comfortable they were and easy to walk in to spite the heel. I stopped by the bathroom and found Mom’s lip gloss and smoothed some on, adding just a hint of color and shine to my lips.

I was in the kitchen wearing that penny apron thing and chopping ham when mom showed up with a puzzled look. I stopped what I was doing and poured her a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Mom,” I said as I handed it to her.

“Morning. What are you doing up so early.”

“I don’t know I woke up when the birds started singing outside. I was wide awake and there was no way I could go back to sleep. So after spending an hour looking at the ceiling, I decided to get up and get dressed. Then when I came down stairs I figured I could make breakfast. I’m doing ham and scrambled eggs. I’ve seen you do it often enough that I could figure it out without a recipe.”

Mom sat and said, “Carry on… don’t let me stop you.”

I smiled and went back to chopping ham. By the time I was done the pan was hot. I poured in the eggs and let them start to cook a little before I stirred them with a fork. I knew from watching Mom that it was a matter of keeping the cooked portion off the bottom so the uncooked part could come in contact with the pan. When there was very little left that was liquid, I dumped in the diced ham and stirred it through. I turned down the heat and put a lid over it, so it would just keep warm. I knew that when Mom did it that was the way she left it so everyone could just help themselves when they wanted to eat.

I made four slices of toast and buttered them. Then I put four more pieces of bread in the toaster to wait for Dad and Karen to show; before putting them down and dished up two plates for Mom and I and took them to the table. I warmed up my coffee and sat down to eat.

“You’ve become quite the domestic. It’s good to know that if I became bedridden, that there’s someone in family that can put a meal together from scratch.”

“Like that’ll ever happen. On the plus side for me, I won’t starve when I’m on my own.”

“All in all, I’d say that this last week has been a positive experience for you. You’ve gotten a peek into the woman’s world that few men or boys ever get. You’ve discovered you have a talent for cooking, and come Monday, you’ll know how do your own laundry, when the time comes.

“And, unless I miss my guess, it wasn’t all unpleasant.”

“I’m not so sure about that last part. It wasn’t terrible, but there were time when I was uncomfortable.”

“Well anyway, I’m proud of you. You comported yourself with dignity through it all and you met every challenge with style. I think you’ve proven your point, that there’s no reason for the girls to avoid all the things you said they should embrace. Though I must tell you that in the beginning, I was rooting for the girls. You displayed a pretty sexist attitude. When they brought you back down in that dress, I thought that it was fair play, but as I thought about it, the permanent was over the top. As the day progressed I saw my son behaving in a way a boy of lesser character would never have.

“You know you could have raised more of a stink and refused to do anything to accommodate them and simply worn the clothes and sat in your room all day. But you didn’t you still participated in the family and you even became more productive.

“Then there’s the way you handled the babysitting challenge. I called Mrs. Johansen to see how you did. She couldn’t say enough good things about you. You really went over the top fixing dinner for her. That just blew her away.”

By that time I was blushing. Just then Dad came in and got himself a cup of coffee. I jumped up and put one side of the toaster down.

“Ah, scrambled eggs and ham. Thanks, hon I’ve got to head down to the hardware store and pick up some thing. Then I’m heading over to my brother’s to help him with repairing that deck before it gets dangerous.”

“Don’t thank me. Fran’s the breakfast chef today.”

“Fran? You fixed breakfast.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep so I came down and fixed something simple.”

“Simple would have been to put on a pot of oatmeal,” Dad said. “Anyway no matter who fixed it I appreciate it. I’ve got a busy day and heading out on just a bowl of cereal and coffee wouldn’t have been as good as this. Thanks.”

I rinsed off our dishes and put them in the dishwasher while Dad sat to chow down. Then I brought the pot over to refresh mom’s coffee and refilled mine.

Karen came dragging in as Dad was heading out. “Scrambled eggs and ham?” she questioned. I figured maybe oatmeal when I smelled the toast. What got into you mom? That’s a lot of work for a Sunday morning.”

“Not me, Fran.”

Karen harrumphed and dished up. She made a face when she got the dregs of the pot for coffee. I got up to make more coffee as she ate. When I sat down, Karen looked at me and shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re no fun.”

I shook my head not understanding.

“When Susie told me what she had in mind and how she’d win the bet to make it happen, I thought we’d have a great week with you whining and complaining about all the girly outfits we’d put you in. But after lunch on Sunday, it was as if you flipped a switch and became the poster girl for girly-girl magazine. Nothing fazed you. God, you even went over and babysat that toddler all day and even cooked dinner for them.

“It’s like you were trying to show up real girls or something.”

Mom nearly spit up her coffee and I couldn’t keep from smirking. I had to take a deep breath to keep from crowing. I decided to rub it in a little. “Well, I just decided that since you and Susie have something against acting like girls and you seemed to be set on showing me how terrible it was; I figured that I would go for it and find out just how terrible it was. But it wasn’t terrible at all. Actually wearing a dress or a skirt is actually comfortable and I can’t see what you have against it. Well ok, you do need to watch how you sit and learn to stoop over instead of bend, but that’s no big deal. And I learned that I like cooking. What wrong with that? Most of the famous chefs are men.

“As far as I’m concerned you have no excuse not to be more girly. If I, a mere boy, can do it, then there’s no reason a ‘real’ girl can’t. You are a ‘real’ girl aren’t you?”

I thought Mom was going to draw blood, the way she was biting her lip. Karen didn’t say any more, just wolfed down the rest of her breakfast; put her plate in the sink. “I’m going over to Susie's” she announced and was out the door in a flash.

Mom burst out laughing as the door slammed. “Fran, my child, that was classic. You’re going to get a lot of mileage out of that, ‘If I, a mere boy,’ line. I’ll bet she’s over there right now telling Susie just how badly this all turned out for them. You really did beat them at their own game.”

“Well, I’m not through yet,” I said as my mind crackled with a new idea. “I’ve got one more card to play.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“OK, but the girls can’t know about it until I play it.”

“What have you got in mind?”

“When is my week up?”

“Today.”

“What time today?”

“Well, it was noon when your dad headed out for his golf game, so I guess, by the terms of the bet you could put your own clothes on at noon. What’s the exact time got to do with it?”

“I meant it when I said that wearing a dress is comfortable and I’ve kind of gotten used to it. So, I think I might just think it’s too much trouble to change clothes in the middle of the day. I’ll stay dressed like this until I go to bed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I was making egg salad when Karen came home about 1:00. She went out and sat on the patio. When I finished the sandwiches, I took one out to her with a diet coke, her drink of choice. She just looked up when I put it on the table. There was a strange look in her eye. She didn’t say anything or even pick up the sandwich. I decided not to make a big deal out of the lack of a thank you and went back inside.

My mother had just come into the kitchen as I came in. “I think Karen wants to be left alone,” I told her. Mom nodded and we sat at the kitchen table for lunch. The rest of the afternoon, I went about my normal activities and kept myself busy. About three, I started dinner. I got real adventurous and tried my hand at fried chicken. Of course I put on that “penny” apron. In truth, I kind of liked the way it wrapped around me, kind of like getting a hug. For dessert I made chocolate cream pie. Mom told me that if I used powdered sugar when I made the whipped cream it would hold up for us to finish off the pie at a later date.

When Dad came in from his ramblings of the day he seemed a bit surprised to see me setting the table for dinner still in girl’s clothes. He looked me up and down.

“Hey son, you know that your week was up at noon today. I’d have thought you’d have been chomping at the bit to get back into your regular clothes.”

I looked out the window to see Karen still sitting there with her book. I knew she could hear us because the window was open. She was trying to act as if she couldn’t, but I did notice she seemed to freeze in place, mid page turn, when Dad asked his question. I smiled to myself. Here it comes, I thought.

“Oh yeah. I thought of that, but decided that there was no sense changing clothes in the middle of the day. What I’ve got on is comfortable, and actually, given the heat today, it’s cooler that my usual jeans and T-shirt and besides, I’ve not really worn these sandals that Mom bought me. I really should get some use out of them, don’t you think?”

Dad chuckled and said, “Well, what you wear is your business now. Frankly, I’ve kind of gotten used to you in skirts.” He winked at me and nodded toward Karen who still hadn’t moved since the conversation started. I got it. Mom had clued him in on my coup de grâce. “Well, those are some nice shoes, alright. Is one wearing going to suffice or do you plan to wear them again sometime?”

I smiled and turned me back in case Karen decided to look in. “I don’t know, if I did, I think they’d look funny if I didn’t wear a dress or a skirt.”

“You have a point son,” Dad said trying unsuccessfully to stifle a grin of his own. “Susie did give you all those clothes, so you’d have plenty to choose from.”

Facing away from the window so Karen wouldn’t see the expression on my face, I caught sight of Mom in the hallway eavesdropping herself. She too was grinning broadly. Obviously she’d put Dad up to this. It felt good to have both parents on my side. When this all started it seemed to me that they were supporting Karen and Susie with no consideration for me. But following Mom’s advice to out girl Susie and Karen and doing it so well, seemed to bring them back to supporting me.

“I do, don’t I?” I observed.

“Well son, do whatever makes you happy,” Dad said, clapping me on the shoulder before turning to leave the room. I saw his shoulders convulsing as he held a hand to his mouth silently laughing.

Karen got up and came in giving me a look I couldn’t read and marched right upstairs. “Dinner in twenty minutes,” I called after her.

That night as I got ready for bed, I was on autopilot. In the bathroom, I brushed out my hair, brushed my teeth and checked my face to see if I had any zits popping up. Back in my room, I carefully hung the dress, which I had meticulously kept clean, back in my closet and grabbed a nightgown off the hook on the back of the door, and went straight to bed.

When I woke in the morning, I wasn’t with it that much better. After relieving myself, I got dressed. When I reached for clean underwear, I had a pair of panties in hand and was about to put them on when I realized that I should be wearing boy’s clothes, including underwear.

Fully dressed, I felt strange. I hadn’t worn pants of any kind for a week. Everything just felt off. I went back to the bathroom and tried to do something with my hair to make it look less girlie, to no avail. Frustrated, I went in search of mom.

I found her in the kitchen checking the contents of the freezer. “Hi Fran… Frank, she said. “Sorry, just a week and I got used to calling you Fran.”

“Yeah, well with the hairdo that I ended up with I still look a lot like Fran. I really don’t want to cut it. Is there anything I can do to take away the girlie look? Some really big rollers or something?”

She studied my hair for a moment. “There may be something we can do. Give me a moment. I’m deciding on tomorrow’s dinner.”

She took a package of meat out and put it in the fridge. “Come on,” she said, with a nod of her head.

I followed her up to her room, where she went into the bathroom and rummaged through the drawers and came out with a spray thingy of Aussie styling mousse.

“Take your shirt off,” she told me. She then pulled back the shower curtain and took their hand-held shower head off the mount and turned on the water. “Lean in here.” She proceeded to wet my hair with some really warm water; then wrapped it in a towel. From a bottom drawer, she produced a blow dryer. After plugging it in, she had me stand in front of the mirror, instructing me to watch what she was doing. Using a brush to pull my hair out straight, she used the dryer to dry it like that.

“This isn’t too good for your hair, but it will straighten it some,” she told me. She worked it for about fifteen minutes. OK, maybe not that long, but it seemed even longer. When she decided she’d cooked my brain long enough (I’m not sure, but I think it was worse than the hot rollers) she then brushed it for another… OK, I’ll not say fifteen minutes, but it was a long time too. After that she squirted some of the mousse stuff in her hand and rubbed it all through my hair. Then she got out a comb and spent some time combing it. She parted it on the left side, combed most of it back, except the top; that she combed over to the right and lifted the front up and a little to the back. When she got through, the end result was a masculine wave on a hairdo that wasn’t exactly masculine or feminine. I guess the word I’m looking for, and I had to look this up, is androgynous. All in all, it was a whole lot better than the girly thing my hair did by itself.

“How’s that?” my mother asked.

“A lot better, but it looks funny.”

“Well, it’s the best I can do. It’ll be fine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl with hair done like that and with the wave in front, it has a boyish look. It’s kind of modified mullet. You know Rod Stewart, David Bowie and Paul McCartney all wore their hair in a mullet.”

I’d kind of heard of them, they were old time rock singers, but I don’t think I’d ever listened to any of their music. I mean they were popular last century, like before I was born.

“But Mom, those guys are ancient. They’re old time rock. I don’t think any of my friends ever listened to their music.”

“Still, they were considered manly men. So your hairdo is OK for a boy, if just a little outdated. If anyone asks, just say that you saw a picture of one of them and thought you’d go retro since you had the hair for it.”

“OK, whatever. Thanks, I guess I can live with this,” I told her, surveying my hair in the mirror.

I started to put my t-shirt back on and Mom stopped me. “Oh, I should have thought of that. If you put your t-shirt on, you’ll muss your hairdo. You should put on a button up shirt.”

“Mom… a button up shirt? This is summer time. If I put on a button up shirt, it’ll be way too dressy. The only button up shirts I have that aren’t super dressy are flannel shirts; they’d be too warm. I really wanted to get casual today; after a week being dressed up… you know Fran never dressed down.”

Mom laughed at my pointing out, “Fran never dressed down,” but it was true. Even the everyday dresses were not really casual clothes. I guess that’s the point that Susie and Karen were making that skirts and dresses are dressed up clothes, but they could wear them some times, couldn’t they?

Mom took my t-shirt and studied it a bit than looked at me. “I got an idea. Maybe there is a way you can wear a t-shirt. She went to her closet and took a t-shirt that was nearly the same color as mine off a hanger. Now I ask you, who hangs up t-shirts. Mine just get tossed in a drawer.

“This t-shirt has a larger neckline than yours. If I help you put it on to keep it away from your hair, I think we can manage to spare the do,” she said.

She stretched out the neckline and I leaned my head into it. She kind of let it rub my face as she pulled the back away from my hair. When it dropped over my chin, she reached in and flipped my hair out from under the neck.

“OK, take the hair dryer and the mousse. You’ll need to wash your hair and dry it every day just the way I did today and then put the mousse in it and style it. Washing it every day will help relax the curls and maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll be good enough for school come September.”

As I put the stuff in the family bathroom, I looked at myself in mirror and studied Mom’s t-shirt. At first glance, it didn’t look a lot different than one of mine. I remembered that she sometimes wore t-shirts and shorts when we went on vacation. I was glad she picked this one, some of hers have designs on them that sure wouldn’t do for a boy. The fit was a little looser than mine, but not enough so it showed in the way it hung on me. She said it had a larger neckline and looking at it, just to check that out, I could see it. But I don’t think anyone who wasn’t looking for it would notice. I touched the neck. I was looser, more comfortable than mine. I wonder if Mom could get me some more like this?

Now if only my underwear didn’t seem so strange. It wasn’t just strange, the leg openings seemed bind and the waist band just plain felt weird. I don’t ever remember noticing the waist band or the leg openings before. The combined effect was to make them seem uncomfortable. Not grossly so, but just annoying. Oh well, I guess I’ll get used to it, just like I did the panties.

After I ate breakfast, I went back out to see if I could manage another chapter in my book. I really wanted to learn the fate of the inhabitants of Lake-Town. Smaug was in the process of strafing Lake-Town when Karen and Susie showed up in the kitchen. I really didn’t pay too much attention, until they came out on the patio with their cans of soda.

“Well,” said Susie, in an overly loud voice to Karen, “at least the last week got Frank to do something with his hair besides letting it hang any old way it wants to.”

I looked up, perturbed with the interruption of my reading. “I kind of have to, thanks to you guys giving me a permanent. What were you thinking? I might have to shave my head before I go back to school.”

“That would be an improvement to what it was when you went back to school last year,” Karen opined.

“Yeah, well maybe you'd like to have your head shaved,” I rebutted.

“Hey, let’s not argue,” Mom insisted as she stepped out of the kitchen. “You girls need to cut him some slack. He fulfilled his obligations to the bet much better than anyone had a right to expect and he did it with dignity.” She stopped and eyed the two of them. “You were out of line giving him a perm. That was way beyond the scope of the bet. He endured it and showed you that what he wanted from you, should you have lost, wasn’t unreasonable. So you can be gracious,” she continued. I thought I was skating free as she lambasted those two. “And Frank, you need to chill too.” Her rebuke of me was a lot less stringent than theirs.

“Sorry Mom,” Karen said, “you’re right. A perm was over the top, but you do have to admit his hair looks a lot better now than it did before.”

“True, but now he has little choice but to style it every day. You and Susie just have to brush yours out every morning. I’m sure that Frank wouldn’t have even thought of a perm for you guys, much less even had any idea of how to do one.”

Susie decided to be big about it after the chiding. She didn’t want to be on the outs with Mom, Karen was her only friend in the neighborhood and if Mom decided to ban her, she’d have no one to hang out with.

“OK, Frank, you did prove your point. It’s possible for anyone to be girly. I’m sure that Karen and I could manage it too. It’s just I don’t see the advantage. I’ve always been a tomboy. My mother thinks I’ll grow out of it one day. Maybe I will, but maybe not. Some women grow up and still don’t do the girly thing.”

I couldn’t resist. “I don’t know what the big fuss is. Being girly is easy, so easy, even I, a boy, can do it.” Then I decided to soften it a bit. “Look, you don’t have to go all girly, all the time. Just once in a while, when the occasion calls for it. That and maybe add a little girly touch to your tomboy image. I understand that pants are practical for a lot of things you might want to do, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t as a splash of color to your shirts.” I got really brave. “Susie, you’re a good looking girl and you could dress to allow the world to see it and you don’t have to go all frou-frou to do it. That’s all I was saying before this all got started.”

Susie looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with being a ‘good looking girl’. I really just want to be average… to blend in.”

I began to get it. Outwardly, she was tough… a type A personality, but inwardly she was a bit shy and unsure of herself. I’d heard the phrase “teenage angst.” I guess Susie was living it.

I nodded. “OK, I’ll cut you some slack. But I’d still like to see what you look like all done up like a girly girl. Maybe for Halloween, next year you can do it for a costume,” I joked.

She smirked. “That’s what it’d be, a costume, ’cause it’s definitely not me.”

I stood up and extended my hand. “Friends?”

“You want to be friends with me? You know it was my idea for the perm and if you’d resisted more, I’d have made your life a living hell.” She harrumphed. “Instead, you took the ball and ran with it, and embraced the girly girl image and took all the fun out of it.”

“Dad pointed out I was dumb to take your bet to start with. He said he knew from the beginning I’d lose, that you had something you were sure of and that if I’d been half smart, I’d have figured it out and turned down the bet. So, in a way, I deserved to get caught up in whatever dastardly scheme you cooked up. Though neither he, nor I, saw the perm as part of the deal. But even with that, I’d like to be friends,” I told her and put my hand out again.

She smiled and took it. “OK, friends. Actually, I kind of liked Fran, she was really easy going and could take a joke. If you could be a little more like Fran, we might just become good friends.” She grinned and her eyes twinkled and I kind of remembered that I started all this because Susie is an attractive girl and I like the mischievousness in her personality. “I’ll tell you what, since you’re so good at it, anytime you wear a dress and get all girly, I will too.”

“Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen.”

Karen giggled.

“What about you Karen? You got in on the bet, won’t you promise the same? If Frank here goes all Fran on us won’t you get girly too?”

Karen’s giggle became a full blown laugh. She struggled, but did get out, “Oh sure, Fran needs girlfriends to hang out with. Count me in when she comes to visit again.” She could hardly talk for laughing. It was contagious and soon Susie and I were laughing too.

I decided I needed a Dr. Pepper and headed into the kitchen. Walking into the kitchen, I was taken with how underwear just didn’t seem to fit right. They seemed to chafe as I moved, like they didn’t give where they should. I’d never really noticed that about them before. I contemplated it as I leaned against the counter sipping my Dr. Pepper. Until I lost that bet, and had worn panties for underwear, I never really paid any attention to my underwear. For the first couple of days, while Susie and Karen were harassing me, I noticed the panties. What I noticed was the softness and the hugging comfort of them, but then as the week wore on, I noticed them less and less until the only time I really noticed them was in the bathroom or when I was changing clothes.

Tuesday, as I got dressed, I eyed the panties in my drawer. It dawned on me that, what with Karen being over enthusiastic about buying underwear for me there were some in there that I’d never even worn. I touched them lightly with my fingertips. What am I going to do with all those panties? They’re really nice. It seems a shame to give them away. … What the H. E. double hockey sticks am I thinking!

I banished the thought and grabbed a pair of jockey shorts and got dressed. As I pulled the jockeys up to my waist, I noticed the same strange, off, feeling I had yesterday. All that morning, every time I moved, that annoying feeling was there.

That afternoon, I found Mom relaxing on the patio with a cup of coffee. “Mom,” I started, “I think there’s something wrong with my underwear.”

“Wrong? How so?”

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Are they too small?”

“No, just kind of uncomfortable, but not really. There doesn’t seem to be any give in them and they just feel weird on me.”

“When did you first notice that?”

“Yesterday when I got dressed. I thought it was just that I wasn’t used to them. I was sure that it would get better as the day went on but it didn’t. And today it’s the same thing. They just don’t feel right.”

Mom looked thoughtful for a while and then said, “You never noticed that before?”

“No, just this week.”

She nodded, “Well, then I think you should experiment and see if there’s some other kind of underwear you would like instead.”

“The only other underwear, I could wear, are the panties Karen bought me.”

Mom raised her eyebrows, tilted her head and shrugged. As if to say, “Well???”

I stewed about that the rest of the day. It was like she was suggesting that I wear panties when I didn’t have to. I’d be wearing them at my choice for no reason. What was it she said when I realized there were fifteen pair of panties in my drawer? "Some boys like wearing panties. If it turns out you do, then you're all set." Yeah, that was it. Oh God, am I going to be one of those boys?

Maybe, I could kind of taper off. You know wear panties two days and jockeys one day for a while then reverse it and then double up on the jockeys and finally slack off on the panties until I’m wearing jockeys full time.

My hands trembled as I pulled the panties on. I kept telling myself, You don’t have to do this. You can just tough out the feelings. You’ll get use to them in time. But I didn’t stop. I pulled them up to my waist and stood taking slow deep breaths. After about two minutes, I sucked my lips between my teeth and pulled on my jeans. I already had on my t-shirt, which I was noticing wasn’t as nice as the one Mom had lent me on Monday. I’d been so busy worrying about my underwear yesterday to notice. I was tempted again to see if Mom couldn’t get me some t-shirts like that one. But that, somehow, was crossing a line. I mean, I needed a shirt like that on Monday, but today… well, I was already wearing girl’s underwear when I didn’t need to, no sense in compounding the girl’s clothes issue with a shirt I didn’t need to wear.

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Today, my underwear felt fine, no, not fine, they felt good. But my jeans were rough and scratchy, stiff and kind of confining and they weren’t even new. With a great deal of effort, I put it out of my mind and found things to do to take my mind off what I was wearing.

For something to do, I started helping Mom around the house. It was something I did as Fran, so I kind of knew what to do. “Frank thanks for pitching in. It makes my day go easier. I wish your sister would do this some time.”

“It’s OK Mom. The truth is, I’m kind of bored today.” OK, so that wasn’t the truth. The truth was that I needed something to do so I wouldn’t fixate on what I was wearing.

“Feel free to volunteer any time.”

One of the things Mom asked me to do was bring in the mail. So I got the key off the hook and headed for the mail boxes. As I was coming back, Mrs. Johansen walked by with Christi. She looked at me and gave me the biggest smile. That kind of unnerved me. What made it worse was Christi was grinning too and she even waved at me. I stopped on our porch and watched them cross the street and stand at the bus stop for the bus into town. Wonder where she’s going?

The next day, after I had gone through my, now, morning routine of showering, and doing my hair, I got dressed much the same as I had the day before. I wished my jeans weren’t so binding. Why did I ever think tight jeans were the way to go? Some of the guys wore baggy jeans, why couldn’t I?

I let that pass and went down stairs to get some breakfast and found Mom in the kitchen. Dad had already gone off to work and Karen hadn’t budged from her bed yet.

“Hi Frank, I was just about to have some coffee. Would you like me to fix you some breakfast?”

“Ah, no thanks, I’ll just have some cereal. If we were all here for breakfast, we could do something, but cereal is good enough.” I walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I’d done that when I was Fran, and I kind of liked it. I really did love my mother and, like a lot of boys my age, I had gotten out of the habit of showing it. We had really formed a bond the week before, so I was good with it. She smiled at me.

“I think I like that,” she said touching her cheek. “Are you going to make a habit of it?”

“I… well, I guess I could. You know Mom, I feel closer to you now than I did before I had to pay off that dumb bet,” I said, adding milk to my cereal.

“Well, we did kind of have a bonding experience.” She grinned mischievously. “A kind of mother-daughter bond, but I’m glad it carried over to our mother-son relationship.”

I grinned back. She was teasing, but it was a nice kind of teasing; one that I could enjoy.

“I was watching you yesterday. You seemed more at ease than you did on Tuesday and it seems to have carried over into today.”

“Yeah I am, I think.”

“So did your… discomfort thing work itself out?”

“You mean the underwear.” She nodded. I looked down at my cereal bowl. “Mom, is it really OK to be one of those boys?”

“What boys do you mean?”

“You know, like you said when I asked you about all those… those panties that Karen bought me.” She looked at me blankly. She wasn’t going to make it easy on me. “You said that some boys liked to wear panties and if I turned out to be one of them, I was all set.” She nodded and I knew she understood what I was talking about, but still she didn’t comment. “You said it like it was nothing… then Tuesday you suggested that I experiment with a different kind underwear and I told you all I had to work with were the panties.” I gave her what I’m sure was a pained look.

“You’re experimenting… with the panties, right?” I nodded with trepidation. “You want to know if it’s alright for you, as a boy, not Fran, but as a boy, to wear them.” I was almost in tears. I needed to talk to someone and like I said, Mom and I had formed a bond. I prayed that I had understood her right on Tuesday.

She sat around the corner of the table from me and took my hand. “Frank, last week, you experienced something that most boys, or men for that matter, never experience. You got a taste of the fine things that make up a woman’s life. The variety of clothes and fabric they are made of. I wondered, when I saw the direction the girls were leading the payoff for the bet, if it would affect you. Apparently it did. Now you’re worried about what that means.” She looked me in the eye and I nodded, unable to speak. “I’m here to tell you, it really means nothing. I’m guessing you prefer the panties over the jockeys you’ve worn up to last week. No big deal. It’s just clothes.”

“But Dad, won’t he be upset. I mean he was concerned about me doing feminine moves, you know, like sweeping my skirt under me when I sat.”

“It just came as shock that you did it so easily and smoothly in such a short time. He and I talked that night after you went to bed and we put to rest any concerns we had about just what would be the outcome of this bet. We, jointly, decided that whatever the outcome, you are our child and we love you and we want you to be happy. If you feel better wearing panties; then wear them. It probably wouldn’t do to announce to your friends from school that you like wearing panties, but for us, your family; you just do what feels good, OK?”

I stood and threw my arms around her neck and we hugged. When we were through, I kissed her cheek again.

She smiled as I sat down. “Love you,” she said standing and retrieving her coffee.

Friday, I had every intention of wearing my jockeys again, but in the end, I put on the panties. I stood before my dresser for a moment, second guessing my decision and then I remembered Mom’s words. “If you feel better wearing panties; then wear them.” I did feel better. I fingered my t-shirt and wondered if I asked Mom to get me some like hers with the softer material and looser neck line if that’d be too much. But I let the thought go, finished dressing and went down for breakfast. I decided to help Mom around the house that day and spent most of my time dusting that morning and I even made lunch for us. Mom suggested that I take the afternoon off since there really wasn’t that much to do.

About, 2:00 the phone rang. I looked in the kitchen and Mom was talking to someone. I went back to my book and a few minutes later, Mom announced, “I’m going over to Mrs. Johansen’s. She wants to talk to me about something.”

The phone rang about fifteen minutes later. I answered and it was Mom.

“Frank, could you come over here for a minute?” I was worried.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, wracking my brain to think of anything I may have done or said when I was watching Christi that could have gotten Mrs. Johansen upset.

“No, Mrs. Johansen has a favor to ask you and I told her she’d better ask you herself. I just couldn’t make the decision for you. I’m going to leave it up to you. If you want to do it you can, and if you don’t then she’ll just have to understand. Just come over, she’ll meet you on the porch.”

“OK, I’ll be right there.”

“Hi Frank, thanks for coming.” Mrs. Johansen looked nervous. I waited for her to continue. “I got the job I applied for. They want me to start Monday. I told Christi that I’d have to be gone during the day for work and she’d have to have a sitter.” My brain began to spin. As Frank, I shouldn’t know anything about a job or even know Christi’s name. “I asked her if she’d be OK with it. She wanted to know if Fran would be the babysitter. When I told her that Fran went home and couldn’t’ she insisted that Fran could come back and sit for her. I spent all day yesterday trying to tell her that I could get another sitter. She threw a fit and cried. This morning she just sat in the corner and didn’t want any breakfast. I’m desperate. I need the job so we don’t lose the house. It would only be through August. Jim’s company is expanding down here and he managed a transfer to this site, only it won’t take place until the end of August.

“Christi really wants Fran to sit for her. I’m afraid that if Fran can’t do it, it will traumatize her.”

“I don’t know what I can do. Fran’s gone back home and…”

“Frank, I know that Fran was you. I knew it the day you were taking the dresses home from Susie's. Look, I don’t care if you just like dressing up like a girl or if you’re a girl trapped in a boy’s body, I just needed a sitter and Christi took to you as Fran. I still need a sitter for the summer. Please, if not for me, for Christi. I know from what Christi said and the way you two were with each other that you like Christi and that you enjoyed yourself sitting for her.”

“You knew?”

“Yes. You look really good as a girl and no one who didn’t know you would ever guess, but I’ve seen you around the neighborhood since before Christi was born. Like I said, I don’t care that you were born a boy. Christi doesn’t need to know, but I need Fran to babysit.”

“Can you have my mom come out here? I need to talk with her about it.”

“You’ll consider it then?”

“I’ll consider it, but there needs to be some things worked out and if I do it, I’ll need Mom’s help.”

“You know what she’s asking?”

“Yes, she wants Fran to babysit this summer. She knows that you and Fran are one and the same. She’s beside herself because Christi’s insisting on Fran.”

“You said you’d leave it up to me.”

“Yes and I will.”

“What about Dad and Karen?”

“When I explain it to him your dad will be OK with it. He knows you babysat as Fran. And as for Karen, I’ll give her what for because she instigated the scenario that caused this mess. She’ll explain it to Susie and if they want to spend any time together for the rest of the summer, she’ll see to it that Susie minds her Ps and Qs.”

“Do you really think I can pull it off?”

“I think so. You did it before. Christi’s already made up her mind that Fran is a girl and she likes Fran. Just do what you did before and she’ll continue to do it. But it’s really up to you. Mrs. Johansen will just have to understand if you don’t.”

I looked off in the distance weighing the matter. The fact was I did enjoy sitting Christi and then there’s the money. Any kid my age would like the money. Maybe I’d make enough to buy that new Samsung table I’ve got my eye on, the one with the Nook e-reader in it. I know I took a long time because Mom sat down on the porch step to wait for me.

“OK, tell her I’ll do it.”

Mom stood, gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Fran,” she said. “Wait here a minute.” She let herself in the door and Mrs. Johansen came out a few minutes later and hugged me too.
“Thanks Frank. Your mother explained to me how you got hooked into being Fran for a week. You are doing me a big favor by becoming Fran five days a week for the summer. My husband will get a big bonus when he comes back. We’ll make it up to you. But you know, you’re a natural at it. If you were honest I think you’d have to admit you like it, at least to yourself.” She hugged me again.

On the way home, I began to grin. Mom looked over and asked, “OK, what’s going through your mind?”

“You remember when Susie and I made up and she shook my hand?”

“Yeah, I was right there.”

“Do you remember what she said?” Mom stopped and looked at me. “She said, ‘anytime you wear a dress and get all girly, I will too.’” It was Mom’s turn to grin.

“And Karen too; she said she do it too. Looks like you’ll get what you wanted after all. When you get girlie to sit for Christi, they’ve said they’ll do it too.”

We had a good laugh as we walked up to our porch.

So that’s how I spent my summer as Fran and how I really won the dumb bet that I lost. My only worry is that I’ve really grown accustomed to wearing dresses and skirts. Heck I found it easier just to stay in character and sleep in the nightie that Karen gave me. On the hot summer nights, it was a lot cooler than the PJs I usually wear.

Oh, I did get to see Susie and Karen dressed up a few times. Mom even took the three of us girls to a movie; one across town so we didn’t chance running into someone we knew. I found that I liked having strangers treat me like a girl and Susie and Karen got a kick out of it too. I didn’t insist on the girls getting girlie every time I put on a dress, but three or four weekends we got dressed and did some girlie things or sometimes it was just sit up in Karen’s room and do each other’s nails. Nails, one reason it was just easier to stay in character all summer.

I’m not sure just how I’m going to feel about boys’ clothes when I go back to school; especially since I’ve already decided to wear panties. Thanks to Karen, I’ve got plenty of them. But I’ll just have to learn to like it or not… anyway, there’s no way I can let my friends at school know I spent my summer as a girl babysitting a little girl, having tea parties and playing house. But they’ll sure be jealous of my Samsung tab four 10. It’s really cool.

The most disconcerting thing was after Mr. Johansen came home, I happened to run into Mrs. Johansen and Christi at the grocery store. When Christi saw me, she broke away from her mother and came to me.

“My daddy’s home again and he says he wants to take mommy out on dates so they can get to know each other. Will you be Fran again and babysit me when they go out?” she asked in the innocent way little kids have.

Well, I guess that I didn’t fool as many people as I thought I did. It turns out that mom felt it was necessary to explain to Mrs. Johansen about me, and she told mom that she was sure it was me when she saw us coming back from Susie's with all the clothes, but didn’t know about the bet until mom told her after I’d accepted the job. But she said she didn’t care; she knew me and decided that if I wanted to be a girl, that was OK with her and Christi accepted me as her babysitter.

I guess I’m not through wearing dresses and being honest with myself as Mrs. Johansen suggested, I wouldn’t have been through even without Christi’s parents needing a babysitter again. I’ve come to like hanging out with Karen and Susie, especially Susie. She’s been acting really friendly lately… to both Fran and Frank. I don’t know where that will go, but I really want to see if it’ll last through the school year. Maybe I’ll ask her out. I’ve got the money to spring for some burgers and a movie. The only question is, will she want to go with Fran, or Frank?