Trivial Consequence- Part 2

I have received some kind (but undeserved) words after posting the first part of this two-part piece. It really was a bit of obvious fluff to me… written as a break from a longer story that I hope to post on Amazon someday. As such, I feel like you deserve an apology… or at least a warning. There is some sexual content in this part that I felt was more necessary to the story than “gratuitous”. Anyway… 

Part 2

That week was weird. Though I was Brian again, I think the prom was all that my mother could talk about. She sprung the news on me Friday night, the night before the prom itself.

“I made the appointment months ago Sweetie.”

“But a beauty salon? Why can’t I just wear the wig?”

“I told you already. It’s a cheap wig. It’s a costume. It was fine for weekends at home but this is your prom!”

Those words hit me for some strange reason. Bet or not… her words made me suddenly realize that I wasn’t going to a costume party. No matter how my father had portrayed it in the beginning, it wasn’t Halloween. I’d be going to my school’s very real prom… MY prom. Bob wasn’t going to just be paying off a bet. Bob was going to be my “date”. He was going to be in the same rented tux that he would have worn for any other girl at his prom… except I was going to be his girl.

“I think I’m going to get sick,” I said feeling queasy.

I couldn’t believe she was actually smiling!

“It’s okay. It’s nerves. I got sick the night before my prom too.”

Her words didn’t comfort me though. If anything, Mother’s revelation made it worse. I ran to the bathroom and threw up the tiny nothing that Mom served me for dinner that night.

“Are you okay Dear?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“The appointment is at three tomorrow,” she said as if the debate was over.


“Isn’t it great? Do you know how hard it was to reserve that time? I’m so glad I thought of it when I did all those months ago.”

She was positively beaming. Bet or not, I could see how Mom had gotten wrapped up in the whole prom madness… just like she would have gotten if she had a real daughter to primp and fuss over.

In her whirlwind of nervous excitement she added, “There’s so much to do. Are you ready Dear?”

“Ready? The appointment isn’t until tomorrow Mom. The prom’s at night. What’s there to do?”

“Oh we’re not going to get your nails done there. The polish will be so much stronger if it has the night to harden. Then there’s the waxing.”


“Of course silly. Those arms might have been fine for video games with Bobby, but they’re a little dark for a girl. You don’t shave arms though. You won’t want stubble there when it grows back.”


I didn’t have a chance to protest. Mom had breezed out before coming back in with several boxes of home waxing kits and various nail products.

“Well?” she said looking at me like I knew what she was talking about.

“Well what?”

“Jump in the shower Dear. You won’t be able to take one tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

She looked at me for a moment before seemingly catching herself.

“I’m sorry Brian. It’s just that I sometimes forget. Once we do your nails… you’ll want to protect them. A soak in the shower won’t be good for them tomorrow.”

I didn’t answer. I just nodded and headed toward what felt like my doom and showered.

The waxing was more painful than I would have imagined but I didn’t cry out. If real girls didn’t cry, I certainly wasn’t going to. In only my boy-crushing panty, Mom attacked my body-hair. Arms, legs, pits, chest, even a tiny bit of fuzz on my chin. My pink raw skin felt somehow extra-naked when my mother finally finished yanking my little hairs out by the roots.

“What are those for?” I asked as she spread my toes with foam spacers.

“So that they don’t rub each other and ruin the polish,” she smiled sweetly even as she started rubbing a little stick into my cuticles.

There was no sense pointing out that my prom shoes had closed toes, no matter how ridiculously inconsequential the pointed toes may have been.

She rubbed, buffed, clipped, and filed my toes as part of her meticulous pedicure. Mom even took a pumice stone to scrub the ruff calloused skin from the heels and balls of my feet. The glossy bright red polish drying on my spread little toes, at the end of my smooth slender legs, looked frighteningly sexy.

My hands were another matter entirely. Smooth of hair and thinned from my girlish diet; my hands looked downright “dainty” before she even started my manicure. Like she had on my toes, Mother probably spent as much time on my cuticles as she had on the nails themselves.

“The press-ons are fine,” I whined knowing how useless it was.

“Shush,” she said not even looking up, “These will look so much nicer.”

My mother glued on long oval tips that extended further than any of the old press-ons. She then filled in where they met my real nails and painstakingly filed and buffed them to look like they were real. A strengthening silk-wrap and yet more filing and buffing made those long oval talons look so incredibly sexy… even before the polish.

Undercoat… bright red to match my toes… top coat. Holding my fingers splayed as instructed, I was glad that the tight Lycra panty was keeping certain “things” hidden from view.

“You’ve got very pretty hands,” she said almost proudly.

I stared in disbelief. As always, Mother had been right. They really did look so much better than the old press-ons. They didn’t just look pretty though. Like the bright red toes… they looked sexy too. TOO sexy.

“Thank you Mother,” I said in my pretty little Stacy-voice without thinking.

She smiled before saying something about me getting my beauty sleep. When I mentioned that I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep at all with minding my nails, she just laughed.

“They don’t actually take that long to dry Sweetie. They’re probably even touchable now. Just keep the covers off your feet and hold your hands over yourself like this. They’ll be nice and strong for tomorrow.

‘And besides,” she added, “I’ve brought you a little something to take the edge off and help you to sleep.”

“A sleeping pill?” I asked incredulously while she handed me a pill with a glass of water, which I hadn’t noticed on my nightstand.

“A muscle relaxant dear. You might think beauty-sleep is a silly notion, but it’s real. You’ll look nice and relaxed and radiant for tomorrow instead of harried and scared. Here. Take it. It’s okay.”

After everything else; I decided to trust her. With the muscle relaxer starting to take hold; I drifted to a sound dreamless sleep with my nails safe from any tossing and turning.


It was truly bizarre waking up with those nails and smooth body. Mother was already up and eager to help my every step.

“These aren’t my lenses,” I said in my Stacy-voice and taking what she had handed me.

“They’re color contacts. I got them in your prescription for today. I thought it might be fun to have blue eyes.”

I might have shrugged. I didn’t see the case for my old lenses, which I was sure she didn’t want me to find just then. She even offered to help me put the new ones in.

“That’s all right Mother.”

I had never tried putting in contacts with nails before, especially ones as long as mine now were. I felt surprisingly confident enough to prefer it to letting my mother attempt it for me though.

Nothing could have prepared me for seeing those captivating electric blue eyes staring back at me from the mirror. The feeling that I shouldn’t be able to have eyes that beautiful sent a little shiver racing along my back and neck. I could have easily melted into those eyes… if they were someone else’.

“Oh my,” she gasped, “They’re simply stunning Dear.”

From that moment on, my day was mainly spent waiting and protecting my nails. Mother wouldn’t let me put on anything other than a bathrobe. It was actually funny in a strange kind of way. She wouldn’t let me do ANYTHING that might chip polish. Dad laughed but knew, like I did, to leave well enough alone.

Mother did nearly everything when it came time to get me ready for the beauty salon.

I was powdered, perfumed, and puffed. Mother then pulled my corset more tightly onto my diet-starved little body than it had ever been trussed before. She didn’t comment on my “breasts” that the corset emphasized.

“The other girls are going to be so jealous of your tiny waist!” she cooed while drawing the laces ever tighter.

The sad part was that I couldn’t disagree with her. My near-anorexic diet and all that “practice” in that breath crushing corset had tapered my poor little torso down to a tiny waist that other girls would probably kill for.

I put on the Lycra panty with its panty-liner myself. She helped me on with the padded girdle to further protect my nails.

There was no dress or pantyhose. No jewelry. No makeup. No wig. She helped me into a little denim miniskirt, MY tiny skirt, and a dark blouse with buttons so a pullover wouldn’t ruin my makeover. I didn’t even wear shoes.

Dad laughed.

“You expect her to go out in your fuzzy slippers?!”

“They’ll keep her pedicure nice,” she snapped, which quieted both of us.

I was frightened of leaving the house. The total lack of effort to make me look pretty (and those ridiculous fuzzy slippers) finally allowed me to feel the “clownish” goofiness that wasn’t intentional. Still, that goofiness helped me walk into the bustling salon with a nervous smile instead of a terrified frown.

In spite of my boyish mop; no one suspected a thing. My hair wasn’t that long… or that short. It hadn’t been cut in a while, which gave me a shaggy length that I knew, without my mother having to tell me, was long enough to recreate the wig that she wouldn’t let me wear.

The process was almost numbing. Prom day must have been crazy at all the area salons… but the bustle of activity was almost bewildering. Shampoo… rinse… color… rinse again. I was in a styling chair before I knew which end was up. Mother had brought a photo of someone modeling the wig, which ended up taped to the mirror in front of me, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“There’s just no room for bystanders on a day like today,” the woman offered while energetically clipping my hair, “I’m sure she’s in the waiting area with the others. Would you like me to check?”

“No. That’s very nice of you to ask,” I said in my best Stacy-voice, “But that’s okay.”

She smiled only briefly before continuing her attack on my hair.

It wasn’t exactly how the wig looked. It was close enough… but even better. Just seeing blonde hair on me at all, framing my dazzling blue eyes, was frightening enough. But seeing “my” hair with the pixie-like angles… the volumizing layering… the sassy little bangs… the perky little bounce… the sexy playfulness… all was terrifying.

“What are you doing?” I said in a panic as she brought a pair of tweezers towards my brows.

“Just cleaning them up a little,” she said brightly.

“But I don’t need…”

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to clean them up a bit. They’re a little shaggy for that cut. All right?”

I should have said no but I felt a little trapped in that chair. Why would any girl say no on the day of her prom? I didn’t want to be given away. Besides. I figured that “cleaning them up a bit” couldn’t be too bad.

“Okay,” I agreed nervously.

She smiled… and started plucking.

I tried not to squeak when the first little brow hair was pulled from me. The jolt surprised me but wasn’t actually that bad. The perky woman was close to my face; blocking my view of what she was doing in the mirror while she worked. The sheer number of tugs started making me nervous though.

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” she smiled while stepping to the side for a moment.

I looked at my reflection in surprise.

“That’s funny,” I said, “With all those tugs… I would have thought I’d see a bigger difference.”

The cutesy young woman chuckled.

“I’ve barely started! You have a lot more hairs than you realize. Can I finish up?”

“Okay,” I said; thinking that she would just do a little more before I was done.

The number of tugs started making me nervous again but, remembering my last false alarm, I let her keep going. I must have been distracted. I didn’t notice that she had swapped her tweezers with a tiny doll-sized little comb and little scissor.

She answered before I could ask.

“I’m just going to even out the lengths,” which is what she did.

Smiling proudly at her work… she finally stepped aside for me to see.

“Oh my god…” I whispered in a nervous hush.

“Aren’t they just beautiful?!” she beamed.

“Too beautiful,” I said trying not to tremble.

“Thanks!” she chirped as if I were complimenting her job. “I’ll take you over to Ellen.”

With a last, “Have fun at the prom tonight!” she left me at the makeup station with someone else.

Ellen was pleasant enough, but I was still too numb to really pay much attention to anything. I was still trying to come to grips with the brows I now had. The two delicately thin feminine arches over my eyes belonged on no boy… and completely erased the last traces of Brian. More than anything else, even the breasts, those brows had done more to turn me into a girl than anything else… no… a woman.

But what terrified me the most about those ultra-feminine wisps was that they couldn’t be hidden. I’d have to deal with them long after the prom finally ended.

It was all a numbing blur. Flawless skin. Smoky dark exotic eyes. Thickly curled long feathery lashes. Alluringly penciled definition to those frightening brows. Full glossy red lips to match my nails.

I thanked Ellen and drifted to the waiting area still in shock. Mother didn’t even recognize me for a moment.

“Oh my,” she said putting her hands to her face.

“Oh Mother,” I said on the verge of tears.

Snapping out of it for both our sakes; she said, “We’ll deal with those brows later. It’s not the end of the world Sweetie. There’s nothing we can do about them for now anyway. We have to get you home to get dressed. And besides,” she said allowing a smile to creep onto her face.

“What?” I said refusing to let that smile become contagious.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful Stacy.”

“Gee… Thanks,” I said with a chuckle in spite of myself.

“There’s my girl,” she said adding to the silliness, “You might as well have fun with it. Right?”

“I guess,” I said smiling back.

We were home before I knew it. Mother kept Daddy away from seeing me until after helping me to get dressed.

Still protective of my nails, she did most of the work. She slid my ultra-sheer shimmering nude pantyhose up my silky legs into place. We both marveled at how the red polish of my sexy toes shone through the delicate hose, but they were soon hidden when Mother slipped my toes into my stiletto shoes and buckled the delicate straps around my shapely slender ankles. She freshened my perfume and buttoned the tiny silk buttons up behind my incredible prom dress.

Mother put on my pearl necklace, bracelet, and earrings. She even filled my tiny satin evening clutch with my house key, lipstick, gloss, perfume and compact. My parents had Bobby’s cell number. Mine didn’t fit into that tiny bag.

“Oh my. Stacy. Bobby wasn’t joking. He really will be going with the prettiest girl there. Let’s show your father and take some pictures.”

“Do we have to Mother?”

“This is your prom Sweetie. I’m sure you’ll want a memory of THIS.”

“And I’m sure I won’t,” I pouted while trying not to laugh along with her.

To say Daddy was stunned would have missed by a mile. He tried being his usual joking self… but mostly just tried to keep his jaw from hanging open. I’ll have to admit that I didn’t’ help. Sticking with the idea of trying to make the best of it; I hammed up the role of excited prom-girl a little too convincingly.

“This might be fun after all,” I smiled mischievously.



I had opened the door for Bobby, who looked at me as if he had never seen me in a dress before.

“Hi Bobby,” I said in my brightest Stacy-voice possible.

Looking to have fun teasing him like I had teased my father; I added, “You look so handsome,” as I leaned up in my skyscraper heels to peck his cheek in a girlish greeting.

I expected him so say, “Whoa!” I expected him to recoil or look disgusted. I expected him to give me some grief or tease me back. I didn’t expect him to blush… and hold a plastic box of ugly flowers out to me.

“Oh Stacy!” Mother beamed, “A corsage! OH!”

While she hurried into the kitchen to get a forgotten something from the kitchen, Bobby was putting the corsage around my un-braceleted wrist. That simple contact made me shiver unexpectedly… but in an alarmingly good way.

“Are you cold in that?” he asked sincerely.

“A little,” I lied.

“It looks good though. Real good.”

“Thanks. I think.”

He smiled. I did too.

Mother rushed back in… gushing over my corsage even as she handed me a chilled boutonniere that she must have gotten from the refrigerator.

Now it was my turn to pin a miniature flower arrangement to Bobby’s lapel. Just seeing my delicate hands and sexy long nails fussing on him was strangely arousing too. I didn’t WANT to feel the strain under the layers of gossamer silk skirting. I didn’t want a lot of the feelings that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore either.

“Pictures!” Mom nearly shouted. “Frank! Come here. We need you to take pictures!”

“Oh for Chrissa… Oh. Hi Bob.”

“Hi Mr. S.”

Daddy’s laugh was more welcome than anything in the world at that moment.

“Well… this is definitely a sight. You two look like a perfect couple. A couple of what’s… well that’s a different story. So. Bob… and STACY. Are you going to be making any stupid bets again soon?”

Bobby said, “No way Mr. S,” while I shook my head.

“Good. Okay. We might as well have some fun with this. Let’s get some pictures for the history books.”

And with that, Daddy started posing Bobby and I as if we really were a couple getting ready for the prom. There were posed shots to recreate Bobby putting the corsage on my wrist and another of me pretending to pin on his boutonniere. There were photos of us arm in arm like a wedding shot… and others behind us as we walked towards the limo.

“Oh come on Bob! She’s not going to bite you! Put your arm around her. Hold hands or something. Show the camera how you walk with a girl!”

“Daddy!” I said laughing back over my shoulder.

With a laugh of his own, Bobby smiled at me; took my tiny waist in his large lanky hand; and pulled my rounded hip against his.

“That’s more like it!” Daddy enthused as flashes flew as thick as the laughing.

Mom wasn’t laughing. She simply smiled particularly broadly from the door.

“Your parents are pretty cool,” Bobby said softly as we neared the limo and the driver opened the door for us.

“They’re nuts but, then again, look at us.”

“Yeah,” he laughed as he helped me in.

Several voices simultaneously yelled, “Stacy!”

Bobby didn’t tell me that he and some of the others had gone in on the stretch limo together. Beth and Tina, who had gotten us into that mess, were laughing with their dates. Jack and Cindy. Bill and Alana. As Bobby climbed in behind me, the ridiculously long car suddenly seemed crowded.

“Holy shit Stacy! You’re a knockout!”

“Thanks,” I laughed.

“No really! You’re hot!”

The comment got Bill a jab of Alana’s elbow… and laughs all around.

They were already into the champagne and apparently having a really good time. After a flurry of comments about my outfit, my legs, the fact that I even HAD breasts, my hair, my nails, my brows, my voice… and just about everything else… there wasn’t much else to say. So they didn’t. They essentially just started acting if I really were Stacy, Bobby’s sexy hot date.

The limo came to a stop. The driver, and our dates, helped me and the other girls out.

“Don’t you dare leave me on my own tonight,” I whispered to Bobby in a pretty voice that sounded more vulnerable than I intended.

“Are you all right?” he whispered back.

“Just a little scared.”

“A little? You look like you’re hyperventilating. If you don’t do something, those breasts of yours are gonna to jump out of that dress!”

Looking down at my heaving bosom made me worry.

“This is going to sound weird Bobby but… but… I need you to hold me tight for a minute.”


“I need you to catch me if I faint.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I were. I’m wearing a corset that barely lets me take half a breath Bobby. When my chest heaves like this… I’m not getting enough oxygen or something.”

“You mean the old movies with those fainting Southern belles wasn’t bull?”

“Uh huh. Just hold me Bobby?”

“Okay,” he said pulling me to his side again.

It took a while, but I eventually calmed down.

“Thank you,” I said with an embarrassed smile. “I’ll be okay now.”

“No problem. I think everyone’s getting a kick out of seeing us so close out here anyway.”

“Really?” I said looking around and seeing people looking.

“Uh huh,” he said with a broad smile.

“Feel like giving them a show?” I said with a smile of my own.

“Why not m’lady?”

With Bobby’s hand holding my tiny waist… he led me into our prom.

“That feels good by the way,” he leaned to whisper at one point while we walked.

“What feels good?”

“Your little waist. The corset was definitely worth it.”

I didn’t know what to say to that and just smiled instead.

We definitely got a lot of stares. The other students were all in on it, though the teachers and chaperones were clueless. Just like in the limo, there were a lot of initial comments. Our “bet”, and how I looked, were just about all that people would talk about with us in the beginning. But also like in the limo, that conversation ran out of steam pretty quickly too.

We found ourselves drifting to the dance floor to get away from some of those repetitive conversations. The fast dances were fun goofs with all our friends. The slow ones allowed us a chance to actually talk… and no one seemed to blink at our staying out on the floor for them.

“It’s like we’re any other couple,” Bobby marveled.

“Weird. Isn’t it?”

“What’s weird is how NOT weird if feels.”

“I know,” I said furrowing my brow.

“Do you know how cute you are when you do that?”

“Now you’re teasing me.”

“No. Seriously. With all those girly things; it’s not like you can even help it and… well… cute is cute.”

“Pardon me if I don’t say thank you,” I said a little too morosely.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh I’m just being an idiot. Don’t be sorry.”

“But I am. I can’t imagine how this must be for you; and here I am telling you how beautiful you are. I’m the idiot.”

“Look Bobby,” I started in my soft little Stacy-voice. “You were right the first time when you said that thing about NOT feeling weird. Look at us. We’re slow dancing at our prom… and it feels… it feels… right.”

I didn’t know why I admitted that, but I didn’t take it back either. I just stared up into his eyes expecting I don’t know what.

“It does feel right,” he murmured softly. “Is that bad?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t feel bad.”

“No. It doesn’t… Stacy.”

We danced and swayed silently for a while; each wrapped in our own thoughts. I was dancing with another guy, and more turned on than I wanted to admit to anyone… especially myself. Then I felt something that I never expected.

“Holy shit Bobby. Is that what I think it is?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered with a guilty red flush to his face.

I felt the unmistakable bulge of Bobby’s hard-on pressed against me… but we didn’t pull apart. I didn’t know what to do. Neither of us did. All I DID know was that I didn’t want anyone else to know about that bulge.

“Keep dancing,” I whispered, “and try to work us back to the table.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said turning even redder.

I stopped swaying instantly; afraid of what any more movement would do… to either of us.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“Don’t be Bobby,” I smiled with my own guilty expression. “You just can’t see mine.”

He looked at me with a curious look in his eyes.

“Why’d you tell me that?”

I shrugged my slight girlish shoulders and said, “It just seemed fair.”

He nodded. The music stopped and people were coming on and off the floor as a faster song started.

I asked if he was going to be able to make it back to the table. He nodded and asked me the same thing. The laugh was much needed… for both of us.

The rest of the night was bizarrely normal. No one gave a blink to Bobby and me holding hands at the table or dancing our slow dances so close. It really was like we were any other couple there.

Maybe my “costume” was just too convincing, but it didn’t seem like anyone saw what we were doing as an act. It didn’t seem like anyone cared either. There was one point when I just couldn’t hold it in any more, and Bobby was no help when I asked him what to do. Beth didn’t even blink though…

“Oh don’t be silly! You’re one of us now. Come with me!”

“But I…”

“Shush! Tina! Stacy and I are going to the lady’s.”

“I’ll come,” she said grabbing her purse.

“Are you sure this is all right?” I asked nervously.

“We’ll you’re certainly not going into the boy’s room looking like THAT!”

It was too late to say any more. With Beth and Tina flanking me, they swept me into the restroom and pointed me towards the first empty stall.

My clothes were hard to deal with my nails, but I managed to tug my pantyhose, girdle, and panties down just enough to sit on the bowl. With my legs held together by my stretchy underthings at my knees, and my tortured wee-wee tucked down from sight, I tinkled into the water so close below.

After putting myself back together; I went to the sink and washed between the two of them, who had done their business and were already touching up their lips. Looking at my own, I realized that they could use a touchup too.

“You look so natural doing that,” Tina said as I dug into my evening bag with my long nailed fingers and started on my lips.


Several other girls came in or left and, for the most part, ignored my being there.

I had to ask, “Everyone’s treating me like nothing’s going on. Like this is all real.”

“Why are you surprised?” Beth asked with a confused expression.

“Because it’s not,” I whispered in my pretty little voice.

“Not what?”

“Not real.”

The both of them looked at me and then each other. Tina was the one who started the talking.

“You’re saying that you and Bobby aren’t dating?”


“You and Bobby? The tall lanky boy with the cute smile? You’re not dating?”

“No! I mean… tonight was just the bet. We lost. So here we are.”

“Just the bet?” Beth said looking me up and down skeptically.

Seeing myself in the mirror; I almost couldn’t blame her skepticism. I had a very girlish figure, one that was probably the envy of a lot of the “other” girls… complete with breasts. Slender smooth legs. That hairdo. Those brows. Maybe my voice was a little too pretty. Maybe I moved a little too well in the dress and those heels. Maybe I did look a little too natural touching up my lips with those long polished nails.

“There’s a school rule. I had to look convincing or risk getting expelled.”

“School rule?” Tina asked almost annoyed.


Tina replied with more bite than I was ready for, “I thought we were friends Stacy. We’re here for you. Why can’t you just be honest with us?”

“But I…”

Beth jumped in with, “Look at you Stacy. The hottie I’m looking at has nothing to do with school rules. Regina saw you buying that dress… and saw Bobby take you home. Greg saw you through your window one weekend. You were dancing with Bobby in your house.”

“Bobby’s there with you practically every weekend!” Tina said in a huff. “And what about what happened on the dance floor just now?”

“You saw that?” I said in hushed disbelief.

“Swaying and grinding against his hard-on. Looking at each other all night like that. Holding hands. Not that we blame you. Bobby IS a cutie.”

Beth added, “EVERYONE knows about you two. Why do you feel like you have to lie to us?”

I wanted to tell them that everyone was wrong. I wanted to tell them that it really WAS all about the bet. I wanted to tell them so many things. But I felt like I was hurting them… and that they wouldn’t believe me anyway.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m not lying… it’s just that it’s still so new. It started like I said… just about the bet… but… but…”

“It’s okay Stacy,” Tina said just as tenderly as she had been biting a moment earlier.

“I don’t even know why I’m saying this,” I said truthfully and on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay,” she soothed while both of them touched my arm.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

I said it defensively; as if our not kissing was proof that none of this was “real”. But Beth and Tina took it as if I were actually longing for it to happen.

“Then you kiss him first,” Beth said as simply as if she were telling me the time.

“Do you need a moment?” Tina said putting her things in her purse.

They didn’t wait for me to answer. With sympathetic smiles, Beth gathered her things too.

“We’ll be waiting for you outside Stacy. Take your time. We’re here for you. Everyone here is.”

They left me at the lady’s room mirrors more confused than ever. I looked at myself. I really was a pretty young woman. I could definitely see how I caused Bobby’s hard-on. As Brian, I’d never stand a chance with a girl as sexy as I looked just then.

But the fact that Bobby had caused my arousal too was terrifying. So was the understanding that everyone there assumed that we really were a couple.

Just kiss him first. Could I actually do it? Did I even WANT to do it? Bobby… Bob… was my best friend.

I saw a smile on my face in the mirror. A smile that didn’t look nearly as terrified as I felt… a smile that had a trembling determination. I took as deep a breath as my crushed chest would allow and smoothed out my dress.

“Thank you,” I beamed at Beth and Tina when I came out of the restroom.

They smiled and flanked me on the way back to our table.

“You were gone a long time,” Bobby teased; standing as we girls took our seats.

Tina smiled conspiratorially towards me as she replied, “It takes a little while to look so pretty for you.”

The conversations were so strangely normal as the prom wound down. A lot of the guys had their arms around their dates at the table. Others were holding hands. Bobby had his arm around me; though I wasn’t sure if it was because he was “acting” or not.

There was a call for the last song… our prom song… a slow song.

Bobby rose and helped me up.

“I had fun tonight,” he said as I abandoned the steps Daddy taught me and simply draped myself around Bobby’s neck.

“Aren’t we going to Greg’s after?” I asked in surprise.

“I thought you might want to go home,” he said smiling down at me.

The prom was over. We had paid off our bet.

“That’s okay Bobby. I’m having fun too.”

“You are?”

“Um hmm,” I said nestling into his chest and closing my feathery eyes.

I could barely hear his whisper.

“Ummm Stacy? Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”

I felt his hard-on swelling against me again, but I pretended not to feel it. I pretended not to hear him. Really searching my feelings; I realized that I wasn’t horrified. I wasn’t turned off by the erection that I felt pressing against me, an erection that I was causing. I felt a strange kind of pride even. Confused or not, I felt my own hidden wee-wee straining unseen too.

“Stacy,” he said a little more loudly.

“I heard you Bobby,” I said smiling against his chest with my eyes still closed.

“Then maybe you should stop.”

I did. Still draped over his neck by my delicate slender arms, I looked up into him with my dazzling blue eyes heavily lidded.

“Bobby?” I whispered.


I pulled him down towards me. Beth had made it sound so easy… but I was still terrified.

I touched my glossy red lips to his. He didn’t pull away. He pressed a little more urgently; kissing me back as I parted my pouting full lips and yielded to the tip of his tongue. I let it press past my teeth… and taste me.

“Oh god Stacy,” he spoke into my mouth even as my own straining wee-wee started throbbing into my little panty-liner.

A shudder gripped me. Somehow, a tiny womanly gasp escaped me, which was impossible for either of us to ignore and made Bobby’s penis suddenly throb against me.

“Oh shit,” he whispered in a panic.

“It’s okay,” I said looking up into his eyes with something that I finally recognized.

“But I just wet myself!” he whispered close into my ear.

“We’ll dance over to the bathroom. You’ll clean up. It’s okay,” I repeated with a glow bursting into my smile.

“Why do you keep saying that?” he said even as I helped him sway us towards the men’s room.

“Because I just realized something.”


“I just realized that I’m in love with you Bobby Jones.”

He stopped. Standing together at the edge of the dance floor, my words seemed to sink in and register with him. He gazed into my sparkling eyes and my unfettered smile and seemed to forget about the mess that he still had to deal with.

“Oh Stacy,” he said with his own eyes misting, “I’ve been wanting to say that for so long!”

He kissed me; oblivious of the mess in his pants and of all the eyes around us. Oblivious of the song that had stopped and everything else.

The world came crashing back into focus when we finally parted and the lights started brightening.

“You’d better go,” I whispered.


“Your pants are dark… but not that dark in this light.”

As Bobby scooted into the bathroom, a few of our friends came over to me. Several assumed that Bobby and I were a couple and didn’t blink at that kiss, but Beth and Tina’s smiles felt so wonderful.

“Where’s Bobby?” Tina asked mischievously; apparently knowing exactly why he was in the men’s room.

“He wasn’t feeling so well. He may be in the bathroom a while.”

“Oh… that’s so sad.”

Beth added, “So… are you two coming to Greg’s?”

“Of course,” I smiled back, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


Bobby eventually came out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened and led me to the limo to join the others. We sat close like before, but this time his hand rested just above my stockinged knee.

I didn’t brush him aside. I didn’t jump or startle. I just tried to act as if his hand on my silky leg was the most natural thing in the word; trying to hide how electrifying his simple touch felt as I nestled into him.

I knew that I shouldn’t have felt so aroused… so alive… so incredible. But the wrongness of it all only added to the straining ache in my already dampened panty-liner. After all those hours of “practice”… after what had just happened on the dance floor… after learning what everyone thought of us anyway… I didn’t feel like I was pretending to be Stacy at all. I felt like I WAS her.

What frightened me the most though was just how easy it had been to allow myself to give into those feelings. My breasts and girlish body. My perfume, makeup and nails. Being in a prom dress and sexy shoes at all. The feel of Bobby’s hand on my silky leg. It suddenly felt harder NOT to let our insanity cross into frighteningly wonderful new territory.

A voice caught my attention.

“…my red skirt with the pleats.”

My self-reflection was interrupted by a snippet of conversations amongst the other girls. They were talking about what they packed to change into for the after-prom party at Greg’s.

“I didn’t bring anything,” I said in more of a panic than I should have.

Then looking at Bobby, I asked, “Did you?”

His guilty look was all the answer I needed. Then again, why wouldn’t he have something to change into for the after-prom party? If I wasn’t coming, he didn’t have to go home too. If I somehow went home to become Brian again, there was no reason for him for him not be comfortable at Greg’s without me.

Tina interrupted with, “We can stop back at my house. You can probably borrow something of mine.”

I couldn’t believe how quickly my mind made mental calculations about who’s clothes I might fit into… or who’s wardrobes I might even WANT to fit into. Tina’s might fit, but, except for her prom dress, I don’t think I ever saw her in anything but jeans and sneakers. Beth had nicer clothes, but the size was all wrong. In a blink, I had made similar judgments about the other girls in the car. In a blink, I thought about what I had back at home. I thought about being stuck in the wrong shoes and how my little prom clutch wouldn’t go with borrowed casual clothes. I thought about my too-dressy pearls.

“That’s so sweet of you,” I replied with a smile, “But I might have something back at my house, which is more on the way to Greg’s anyway.”

If admitting to having something of my own to change into cemented any impressions about me or the two of us; I didn’t care. Bobby didn’t seem to care either; though he, as a boy, might have simply been oblivious.

So, as we detoured to my house, I was already planning the outfit. I was already preparing my “excuse” to my parents for not changing into a boy again, which was probably the easier part. It would take WAY too long to undo everything even if I wanted too.

The limo stopped. Beth and Tina offered to come in to help, but I politely declined. Bobby slipped out after the driver helped me out.

“You don’t have to come,” I said as he walked me to the door.

“I’m not letting my date walk to the door by herself,” he said before adding, “And besides; I didn’t want to be in the limo by myself with everyone.”

I smiled and nodded. Being so wrapped up in my own little insanity, I almost completely forgot what Bobby might have been going through. If everyone thought that we really were a couple, then they must be thinking of him in very different ways too. The very fact that he was so gallantly letting them think those things made me feel even more frighteningly close.

“You’re such a sweet boy Bobby,” I said in my girlish little voice at my door.

He blushed and mumbled a “thank you” while I rang the bell. Nobody answered. I peeked in and noticed the usual smattering of lights that we kept on when everyone was out. My parents clearly thought that we’d be staying out late and seemed to have gone out themselves.

Fortunately, I had a key. After fumbling for it in my little evening bag with my long-nailed fingers; we went in together. I was already hurrying up the stairs in my delicate high heels with the gossamer skirting of my prom-dress billowing.

“I’ll just be a sec…” I called behind me.

“Maybe I should change while we’re here,” he yelled up.

From inside my room, I called softly back, “Okay.”

The front door shut as I unbuckled my shoes. I heard it again as I unsuccessfully fumbled with tiny silk buttons and long polished nails behind me. Wanting to hurry, and figuring that I’d get Bobby to help since my mother wasn’t there, I first slipped out of my pantyhose and wiggled my cute pleated denim miniskirt under the fluffs of my prom dress. Quickly pulling off my pearls, I practically ran into my parent’s room where I’d find the jewelry and shoes I planned on wearing.

The shoes were three-inch high cork-wedged sandals with twine-like straps that looked so cute with my bare legs and polished little toes. The thin two-inch gold hoops and tangle of clinking matching bangles on my left slender wrist looked so much more casually sophisticated with my evening makeup and long red nails. Before running downstairs to ask Bobby to help with my buttons; I transferred my things into a simple, black, long-strapped purse of my mother’s and slung the top that I wanted to wear from my own closet over my arm.

I found Bobby in the den. His tuxedo jacket, cummerbund, and clip-on bowtie were draped over the arm of a chair. His shiny black shoes were strewn across the floor. His pants, with suspenders still attached, were crumpled next to him as he dug into his gym bag. Wearing only his tuxedo shirt (with black plastic buttons and matching cufflinks), underwear, and socks… Bobby looked like a taller, lankier, version of Tom Cruise in Risky Business as he dug for his own clothes. In my almost manic rush to get out of there, he might as well have been good-ol’ Bob getting changed for gym class.

“Never mind that,” I injected myself. “Can you help me with these buttons first Bobby?”

“Uh… Sure. Okay.”

I walked up to him in my mother’s only slightly ill-fitted sandals and turned away as he rose up behind me.

Whether I was “all business” or not didn’t matter. The feel of Bobby slowly undoing those tiny black silk buttons behind me started to send little shivers racing over my smooth hairless skin. By the time he had worked the tight bustier-bodice open and I could slide that dress down to the floor, my breath was short and my corseted bosom was heaving.

“Thanks Bobby,” I said without looking back.

With my pleated denim miniskirt already in place, I quickly reached for and slipped into the tight black stretchy crinkle-top with delicate little spaghetti straps. Mother had bought it to fit snuggly over my corset… meaning perfectly.

There was no noise of Bobby getting dressed behind me.

“We have to hurr… Oh…”

I had turned to catch him trying to hide a very embarrassing bulge in his white Jockey shorts. His face was crimson.

“I’m sorry Stacy. Undoing all those buttons…”

I stared; struggling to understand new and confusing feelings as I looked at his arousal.

“It’s okay,” I whispered almost numbly.

“It is?”

“Um hmm. I don’t know why, but it’s like when we were on the dance floor.”

He nodded. Then, after an awkward frozen moment for both of us, he started bending towards his gym-bag.

“Wait,” I muttered in my breathy little voice.


“I’m really confused Bobby. I didn’t plan for any of this… to feel like I do… but… but it feels strangely right if you know what I mean.”

His nod made me know that he knew exactly what I meant.

I added, “Are you okay with all this?”

He nodded again before replying, “Are YOU?”

I didn’t know. What we were talking about seemed to carry a weight that went far beyond our little prom-night, our temporary excursion into insanity. But for that moment, in that particular instant, I was more than okay with what we were doing. All I wanted to do was feel his alarmingly inviting lips on mine again. I felt a disturbingly erotic pull towards that frightening bulge jutting out from under his tuxedo shirt… an irresistible attraction that I didn’t wish for or understand.

My breathy little voice trembled when I whispered, “Kiss me.”

“What? Don’t we want to get back to…”

“Kiss me Bobby,” I repeated more urgently as I minced into his personal space and lifted my face.


“Because I have to know. WE have to know.”

He gazed into my dazzling blue eyes for a moment before lowering his face towards mine. His lips touched my glossy full pout; sending yet more shivers racing over me and threatening to buckle my shapely smooth legs under me. His tongue gently parted my teeth as we began to softly probe each other’s mouths.

“Oh god Stacy,” he breathed into me with a tremble in his voice as we kissed.

I felt him tense when I touched his bulging underwear with my sexy long-nailed fingers… but he didn’t stop me.

Still not believing that I was even holding his hard-on, I gave it a tentative stroke that threatened to make both of us cum. His throaty moan into my mouth was only slightly less surprising than the soft feminine whimper that escaped mine.

I was trembling when I stopped and looked into his hungry eyes. With our lusty gazes locked, I hooked my long nails under the waistband of his Jockey shorts and started to draw them down.

Seeing his erect penis spring free wasn’t nearly as terrifying as how intensely it was arousing me. Bending my little knees, I continued sliding Bobby’s shorts to the floor; helping him to step out of them even as that penis pointed towards my face.

There was no talk about what we were doing or why. There was no mention of dressing or of the waiting limo. Oddly enough, there were no more doubts to make me hesitate from the insanity I suddenly craved… the time for doubt having been passed with that kiss.

“Oh god…” he whispered with a tremble of near-panic when I tentatively kissed the tip of his erection.

Bobby stared down at me as I stared up into his eyes and parted my glistening red lips, which enveloped his penis-head. He trembled as I felt his hot hard flesh twitch in my pretty little mouth as I ever so gently moved the flat of my tongue underneath.

I wasn’t revulsed. I didn’t choke. I didn’t even flinch from the horribly breathtaking act I was performing. If anything, the fact that I was fellating Bobby’s hard penis only made my doubts fall further away. It only made me feel more incredibly feminine… more wonderfully “real”.

Carefully watching that my teeth didn’t touch him, I started slowly bobbing my full red lips over his shaft; impaling my mouth as far as the back of my throat, where a gag reflex threatened to spoil things. On my knees, my long-nailed fingers either held onto the back of his thighs for balance or gently raked the meat of his tight little butt.

I heard more womanly moans coming from my bobbing head.

“Oh god Stacy… I’m going to cum… you’d better stop… I’m going to…”

His next word was more of a grunt as his body convulsed in my mouth. I felt my own body tense as well. While I kept bobbing my lips over his throbbing penis, Bobby’s warm gooey semen pulsed into my mouth, which made me feel more proud and “happy” than I ever would have imagined and caused my own crushed wee-wee to further dampen my panty-liner.

I don’t know why, but swallowing his sperm wasn’t even a question. When he had finished depositing his sex into my mouth, I simply milked the last drop with my lips and gulped it all down.

I smiled as I rose back to my feet; helping Bobby back into his underwear.

But now that the intensity of our orgasms was behind us, reality seemed to snap back into focus.

“You’d better get dressed,” I said with a soft smile before adding, “I’m just going to clean up a bit.”

I went into the bathroom; where I changed my slick soaking panty-liner; put a few extras into my purse with a smile; and touched up my lips while Bobby quickly changed.

“That was fast,” I said when I came out to see him in jeans, sneakers, and a pullover.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a guilty expression.

Bobby’s misread of my comment about speed made me laugh out loud, which broke a different kind of ice for the both of us when explained what I really meant.

I walked out of the house on his arm and locked up. His tux was stuffed in his gym bag back in my room. With the taste of Bobby’s disturbingly delicious cum on my breath, we walked towards the driver… who was waiting to help us back into the limo.

“I wasn’t just saying words back at the prom,” he whispered before we got there.

“Saying what?” I whispered back.

“That I love you.”

I smiled because I felt his intense sincerity… and mine.

“I love you too,” I said pulling myself closer into his side while we walked.

We hadn’t actually been gone long but everyone’s expressions seemed to guess why our “changing” had taken as long as it had. Beth’s asking me if I wanted some gum got an unnoticed chuckle from Tina and one of the other girls… but I took it just the same.

Greg’s party was a wonderful blur. I spent most of it lost in Bobby’s eyes… or lips. But if I found myself immersed in strangely “normal” conversations with the other girls about makeup, critiques of prom-dress, or what I would have called “girl-talk” before, it was okay. It only made everything seem more “right”.

The limo took us all home sometime just after dawn. My parents were home but asleep during my goodnight kiss with Bobby on our doorstep. Slipping in alone, I went up to my room and fell asleep on my bed before I even had a chance to think of getting undressed.


“Rise and shine sleepyhead!” my father said throwing open the shades with a laugh later the following morning.

“Dad!” I said in my Brian-voice before I was aware of any of my surroundings.

He teased, “I kind of like when you call me Daddy… Stacy.”

I looked at him for a moment as a flood of memories rushed back and I realized that I was still dressed in my girl-clothes above my covers. Mother’s shoes and jewelry still adorned me too. Her bag was hanging from the back of my chair.

In spite of how “right” my unnatural night had been; terror crept back into my world. Of all the mind-numbing lines that had been crossed… how I answered my father seemed to be the biggest. I knew that I should laugh him off in my Brian-voice and start trying to be “me” again. I knew that answering in my Stacy-voice, when there wasn’t a reason for it anymore, could only be used as part of a joke.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” I said matter-of-factly in my Stacy-voice.

He had a slightly confused look on his face, even as my mother followed up behind him in my doorway. She smiled to see me in her shoes and my casual Stacy clothes instead of the prom-dress draped over the foot of my bed.

She said, “After-prom party?”

I nodded instead of using any voice.

Still smiling, she added, “My shoes and jewelry definitely work with that outfit… though the makeup’s a little heavy. Too much of a hassle to change back last night?”

“Yes Mother,” I said in my Stacy-voice.

Her smile faded. Daddy seemed to become annoyed.

“Alright son. Game’s over. You need to get changed. I let you sleep in a bit, but there’s only one Mass left today.”

I looked at my parents with a terrifying lump in my stomach. My mother looked back at me with a strange expression before looking back to Daddy.

“The two of us will go, Frank. There’s no way to take off the makeup, nails, and everything else in time. I’m not thrilled… but skipping one Sunday won’t be the end of the world for her.”

“HIM,” he corrected, “and I don’t like HIM missing Mass… especially not for… for THIS.”

Looking back at me meaningfully, she answered him, “You’re right Frank. But the only way he can make Mass is to go as Stacy. Is that what you want?”

Daddy looked like he was struggling with two distasteful choices but, in the end, his own views of church won out. It wasn’t that he was overtly devout. Going to church just happened to be something that he made it a point to do and had gone to great lengths to accommodate before.

He asked, “Can you keep the act up for a couple more hours?”

My father’s tone seemed to hold a lot of meaning. Without using words, he seemed to be saying that if I could dress up like a girl for a bet, and then again because I didn’t want to miss an after-prom party, then I could struggle through a little bit more for church.

I didn’t have the heart to use the voice, and only nodded with my wide still-dazzling blue eyes.

Daddy squeezed past my mother, who stayed behind with an uncomfortably knowing expression.

“Those clothes aren’t perfect for church, but they’ll do. Can I help you redo your makeup though?”

“That would be nice Mother,” I answered in my Stacy-voice and looking nervously into her eyes.

She nodded before taking my slender bangled wrist and leading me to the master bathroom, where she kept her beauty products. While swabbing my face and eyes with makeup removers, she spoke as if talking about the weather.

“Did you have fun with Bobby last night?”

“Yes,” I said with a smile and a blush that I couldn’t help.

“How were your friends?”

“Everybody was so nice. I mean. They talked about it in the beginning, but after that… there really wasn’t much more to talk about.”

“How do you mean?”

I was shivering a little from Mother’s line of questioning.

I answered, “I don’t know. It was like they just started treating me like I was real or something.”

“Did you like it?”

She had stopped swabbing me and was staring straight into my artificially dazzling blue eyes. Once again; I felt like a tremendous line was drawn before my pretty polished toes.

“Yes,” I mumbled in my tiniest Stacy-voice.

She nodded, clearly in thought, before concentrating on removing the rest of my makeup without a word. The silence was as disconcerting as her mater-of-fact words that followed.

“Here. Use this to wash instead of the soap. It’s so much better for your skin.”

I nodded and did as I was told while she fumbled in her makeup drawer and found a sheer foundation.

“You have such nice tones,” she said as she started dabbing my face with it, “so you won’t need much to even your complexion. Put it here… here… here… here… and here and blend outwards… like this.”

A soft neutral eyeliner and subtle mineral sheer shadow. A lash curler and one meager coat of mascara to softly enhance my lashes. An unnoticeable touch of penciling to invisibly define my brows. A soft line and color to my lips to keep them plump and inviting without looking tartish. That fact that she was “instructing” me through it all didn’t go unnoticed by either of us.

“Are you two ready!” Daddy called up impatiently, “We’re going to be late!”

“Almost Dear!” she called back as she looked at her work.

Then to me she said, “I’ve got some dye to color your hair back. I can cut your hair later too.”

I nodded stupidly.

She continued, “Some polish remover will clean up your nails and help with the tips.”

I kept nodding.

She looked at my face and said, “Those brows are going to be tricky… but the kids at school already know why you did what you did. I’ve been thinking about them ever since the beauty parlor yesterday. Shaving them completely should help them grow in more evenly… without being too embarrassing or feminine.”

I stopped nodding and just met her gaze. Dad was yelling up again though I didn’t think that either of us heard him.

She asked, “But you don’t really want to do those things… Do you Stacy?”

I felt tears blurring my pretty eyes as I managed to answer, “Does it make me a bad person Mother?”

She looked at me with a combination of pity, sadness, and worry… but also of love.

“No Sweetie,” she said enveloping me in her arms and holding me tight.

I think I had known that Mother’s view of “Stacy” had slowly changed during all those weeks of practice. I think that I always knew how all those precious mother/daughter hours together had seemed to soften her view of what we were doing. If all that time being Stacy was meant to make me more comfortable as her, somewhere along the way, Mother had become comfortable having me as her daughter too.

We clung to each other; both willing ourselves to not let our tears get away from us. We became aware of Dad’s ever more frantic pleads upstairs for us to hurry.

Drawing back a bit, Mother asked, “Did you and Bobby kiss last night?”

There was a long unbearable silence.

“Yes,” I eventually admitted in a trembling whisper.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes,” I repeated nervously.

“Does he love you too?”

“Very much.”

I didn’t know what to think or expect. It was so very new ground for me. Even though the conversation seemed to make things more real in way; it forced me to rethink everything. It forced me to think about the difference between an incredible one-time experience and life-choices. It didn’t seem possible that I just admitted to being in love with Bobby… or any boy.

It made me think about how much my mother loved me too, and the growing terror of what Daddy might think.

“I’ll take you shopping for some regular clothes after church. Would you like that?”

Instead of answering her; I asked, “What about Daddy?”

Her forced smile and dismissive wave didn’t remove that terror… though it helped.

“Don’t worry about your father. I’ll handle him. What’s important is that you’re happy… truly happy. I’ll support whatever you want… if you REALLY want it. Your father and I both will.”

I was still trembling when I asked, “Are you sure Mother?”

“Oh he might kick and scream a little, but don’t you worry. He loves you more than you even realize Stacy; no matter what clothes you’re wearing.”

“I love you Mother,” I said burying myself back in her arms.

“I love you too Sweetie.”

Dad came in mid-hug.

“Didn’t you hear me? We’re going to be late!”

“No we’re not Frank… and you know it. We’re just not going to park in your favorite spot is all.”


“But what? You won’t get so sit in our usual pew either?” she finished with a mischievous smile.

“No. We won’t,” he said like a spoiled child.

My mother’s chuckle was like water in the desert before she asked him, “Are you sure you WANT to sit in our usual pew Frank?”

With a glance towards me, he seemed to catch on. As far as Daddy knew, I was still in some kind of costume-like disguise instead of a child to unabashedly show off.

And slipping past my bewildered father, Mother and I descended down the stairs with our pocket books and headed towards the car.

Though we parked in a different spot and sat in a very different pew, church felt strangely normal. After malls, beauty parlors, and seeing my entire class at the prom; being Stacy in public no longer terrified me. Just BEING her did.


After returning home from Mass, my father drifted to the den and another game that I’d be missing. I followed my mother upstairs, where she absentmindedly touched up her makeup in the bathroom mirror.

Mother then turned and asked, “Are you ready?”

“For what?”


“But what about Daddy?”

The topic hadn’t come up. In spite of my assurances that she would take care of him; there had been no talk about getting Stacy-things for me on the car-ride home. Other than continuing to use my all-too-convincing Stacy-voice, nothing suggested to Daddy that I might NOT be changing back into Brian upstairs with her.

“I’ll handle your father,” she repeated. “But first, we’ll need to get you some things. You can’t go to school tomorrow in those again.”


She looked at me. It felt like some kind of test, another line in the sand in front of me.

“There’s dye and nail polish removers waiting for you if you’d like Sweetie. You tell me. What do you want?”

I looked at her. School. Everyone had already seen me as Stacy. As ridiculous as it seemed, everybody thought that I was Bobby’s “girlfriend” too. But actually showing up to classes in a skirt? Actually showing up as a girl?

“I want to be Stacy,” I said more to myself than to my mother.

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. I followed her out to the car, passing Daddy inside the same den where I had seen, and tasted, Bobby’s penis not so many hours earlier.

“Where are you taking him like that?!” he said jumping up from his chair.

“Her brows are going to be a bigger problem than I thought Frank. I was thinking of bringing her to the beauty parlor to see what they might be able to come up with.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

And, with that little fib, I followed my mother out to the car for the surreal experience of building a girlish wardrobe for me. In a way, having bought the prom-dress and shoes made it easier; but that was what made it weird. Buying girl’s skirts, tops, shoes, and accessories for me shouldn’t have felt easy at all.

There wouldn’t be many days of school left, but the sheer volume and expense of all those feminine things started to make me feel anxious too. The couple of skirts and three tops that I owned to help me “practice” never felt like more than props to help me get to the prom. A half-dozen new skirts, fifteen tops, two dresses, seven pairs of shoes, and scads of accessories (in addition to what I already owned) were meant for more than just “playing” at being a girl. My own makeup, my own “scent”, my own little collection of jewelry all seemed to make the idea of Stacy more substantial, more real.

Even buying two more corsets (one in white and one in nude) seemed to be some kind of step… as if being forced to recreate the breasts and taper of my corset was going to be a more permanent underpinning.

“Don’t we have enough?” I asked nervously.

“Nonsense. You need a pair of jeans. Aren’t these adorable?”

The cut of the denim capris-jeans really was adorable. It was the only thing that I had tried on with legs, which were tapered to just below my knees. The feminine cut on the hips and ass hugged my padded bottom almost too perfectly. It accented my girlishly flattened crotch in a way that erased my little boyhood more convincingly than any of the skirts or dresses had done too.

Those capris-jeans were in the last of the bags we carried back to the car.

I had to ask, “How much do you think we spent?”

“Don’t you worry Stacy. You’ll need everything. The other girls will notice you wearing the same outfits if you don’t mix things up. But you should have enough to mix and match now. You can always add new pieces into the mix later too.”

There was nothing else that I could say other than, “Thank you Mother… for everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said with a beaming smile.

And in that instant, I realized that it really WAS her pleasure. Mother loved to shop, and buying an entire wardrobe had been, on one level, a pure joy. But I knew that it wasn’t just buying pretty things that had made her happy. Deep down, I knew that she enjoyed the time that we had spent together more than any of it. In spite of it being a mother/daughter excursion that should never have been… we had a shared moment that was more special than any bauble or dress.

My spontaneous hug on the way to the car was more perfect than any words too… for both of us.

But Daddy hadn’t been “handled” at all when we came home laden with packages and he still saw me as Stacy.

“What’d they say at the beauty parlor? He looks exactly the same Chris!”

She scooted me up the stairs with the first of the packages, while she stayed behind.

“Nothing is going to make those brows look less feminine Frank. He would look more ridiculous as a boy with those brows than trying to blend in as a girl.”


“As a matter of fact… I did.”

“YOU WHAT?!!!!”

“Sit down Frank. We have some things to discuss about our daughter.”

I didn’t hear any more. I had gotten to my room at the top of the stairs and, more terrified than ever, closed my door. The TV blared in the den; covering my parent’s muted voices as they discussed me… as they discussed their “daughter”.

Somehow; hearing my mother call me her daughter at all had struck me more than anything else; more than the cleavage that I could see looking down; even more than what I had done with Bobby in that den.

I couldn’t just sit in my room and tremble. I couldn’t go downstairs to get more bags from the car. I couldn’t even pull off the tags of what I had brought up already. I picked up my cell and dialed.


His stunned voice asked, “Stacy?

“You sound surprised.”

“A little. I figured Brian might be back. Is he?”

“Do you want him to be?”

There was no pause… no hesitation to think.


Incredulously, I asked, “Not at all?”

“Not if it means giving you up Stacy. I… I love you.”

“Enough to deal with me showing up to school tomorrow?”

“You wouldn’t,” he breathed into the phone.

“Why not? Our whole grade saw me last night.”

“But that was to pay off a bet,” he pointed out. “Showing up like that on PURPOSE is gonna make people talk.”

“Would it matter Bobby?”

“No. I guess it wouldn’t. Shit Stacy. Are you really ready for this?”

His words were sobering. The prom, and everything else, had just happened the night before. But it wasn’t just the one night. Three months might not have seemed long, but it had changed me in ways that I could never have imagined.

“I don’t know, but I want to try.”

In my timid little voice I added, “I might not have realized it before last night, but I really do love you. And not just like best friends love each other… though I… Oh forget it! I love you Bobby Jones… and that’s why I want to try this.”

Bobby then surprised me with, “Please don’t do this for me.”

“I don’t understand. I thought that you…”

“I do. But this is important Stacy. I can’t be the reason you show up at school as a girl tomorrow. What if we don’t make it, not that I’m saying we won’t, but I couldn’t live with that… and either could you.”


“I’ll be there for you,” he said so soulfully over the phone. “But if you do this; it has to be because you WANT to do this. You have to do it for yourself… not for me… not for anyone.”

There was a silence for a long while before I softly replied, “I know.”

“You do?”

I felt defeated… exhausted… terrified. In so many ways, I didn’t know how I felt.

Looking around at the items from the mall; I said, “Yeah. I think I’m going to go now though. All right?”

“Sure. Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

“Yes Bobby. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Stacy.”

There were no “I love yous”. The words could only have detracted from the very real feelings we had for each other. Lying back on my bed; I stared at the ceiling, lost in my own thoughts and doubts. I didn’t hear anything downstairs. I didn’t hear anything at all.

As exhausted as I had been, I must have gotten myself ready for bed at some point. I awoke to my mother’s face bent over me in the morning, a good hour earlier than my alarm would have gone off for school. My outfit and shoes from the night before were neatly put away. I was under the covers in only my corset and panties. My dazzling blue contact lenses were in their case on my nightstand.

“You’ll need some extra time to get ready Sweetie,” she said with a gentle smile.

Feeling my crushed curves, and feeling very Stacyish with my hair, nails, brows, and smooth diet-starved body; I wasn’t surprised that my mother hadn’t offered me one last chance to change my mind. Seeing the rest of the still-stuffed mall bags cluttering the room; the chance to back-out would have been before she had spent all that money on her daughter’s new wardrobe.

“I’m scared Mother.”

She smiled and gently touched my frail little shoulder.

“It’s supposed to be a hot day today. I laid out a nice outfit. Don’t take long in the shower… and let me know when you’re ready so I can help with your makeup.”

I looked at her. The conversation didn’t seem real. I couldn’t possibly be talking about a girl’s outfit and doing my makeup with my mother. I couldn’t possibly be thinking about actually going to school as Stacy.

But the hour and inevitability of the school bus seemed to be making decisions for me. There wouldn’t be time to deal with hair, nails, and especially those brows… even if I could. At that hour, there didn’t seem to be a choice. Like it or not, I seemed to be temporarily stuck looking like a girl named Stacy; unable to look like someone named Brian for a while.

“Thank you Mother.”

I liked showers, the hotter and longer the better, but I only took a short one. Remembering back to my mother’s comment about water and nail polish, I somehow managed to unlace my corset and rush through a quick rinse and shampoo. After toweling dry; I pulled on a clean stretch-panty and panty-liner before mashing my chest together with the cleavage enhancers by myself somehow. I loosely laced myself as tightly as I could into the nude corset and stuffed the gelled inserts underneath to push up my very “real” breasts.

For some reason, I needed to see what I could do on my own. Mother seemed pleased too but did help draw the corset laces tighter than I could myself.

“I didn’t actually do that much,” she said afterwards. “With a little practice, you probably won’t need me at all.”

“I’ll always need you Mother but thank you.”

She smiled at my sincere comment before helping me with my makeup, which really was just to watch me do it on my own under her careful supervision.

The corset, breasts, and makeup alone justified the extra hour. Getting dressed, doing my hair, putting on jewelry, and getting a matching bag together meant that there was little time before rushing downstairs to breakfast.

“You look lovely dear. Don’t worry about your father. Just act like this is the most normal thing in the world. I think he’s expecting it.”

“Thank you Mother,” I said hugging her tight, “for everything.”

Her smile seemed to take away some of the edge I felt.

“You’re very welcome, Stacy.”

I glanced on last nervous time into the mirror. It was already hot outside, but the clinging pink crinkle-top with tiny spaghetti straps belied the warmth of the crushing layer of my corset underneath. The airy denim miniskirt and baby-oiled bare legs couldn’t even hint at how warm I was under the padded panty-girdle and panties. I could only hope that the “invisible” feminine deodorant under my smooth little armpits and perfume would see me through the day.

High cork-wedged twine sandals. Thin gold hoop earrings. A pink girl’s watch. A white long-strapped bag. A tiny denim mockery of a backpack instead of my old “real” one. I looked like a frighteningly pretty high school senior on her way to school.

My father tried not to stare as I bounded as best I could manage in those shoes down the stairs. I tried holding onto my nervous smile more tightly than the railing.

“Good morning Daddy!”

Kissing him lightly on the cheek, I grabbed what had become my routine little bowl of Special K and soy milk and sat next to him.

“So… Stacy,” he started unsurely, “Are you ready for school today?”

My bright, “I think so,” masked my nervousness.

“I think so,” he repeated after me. “Does Bob…?”

“He knows Daddy.”

My father nodded his head slowly… as if my words answered so many other unpleasant questions too. Picking up his paper in front of him, his last words were simply, “Okay then.”

We ate in uncomfortable silence. When I finished my cereal, I tidied up after myself and forced myself to interrupt his purposeful reading. I kissed his cheek and gave him a girlish hug.

“Goodbye Daddy. Have fun at work today!”

“You… you too Stacy.”

With a last forced smile, I slung my tiny backpack and purse over my little shoulders and bounced out of the house to my next terror… the bus stop.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but the terror of being seen as Stacy quickly faded as I made my way to the corner. There were open stares and pointed fingers but, after some initial questions, the near-disinterest in me being there dressed as a girl became disconcerting in itself. With more of those questions focused on the prom than on me, it felt as if everyone actually expected me to be in a miniskirt and heels.

When I was confronted by more of the same at school, I finally realized just how deep people’s beliefs of me must have been. The first real trial only came in homeroom, when our teacher saw a strange girl sitting in Brian’s usual seat.

“Vince Slate?”


“Brian Smith?”

“Stacy Smith,” I corrected in my tiny girlish voice.

He looked up in stunned disbelief. The class went silent.

Before he could say or ask anything else; I added, “I used to be Brian Smith.”

There was a long silence before he said…

“I’m sorry… Stacy. I hadn’t been informed. Have you… Have you addressed this with the Principal?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I think you should go see her. Okay?”

And with that, I was excused and sent to Administration. There were more incredulous looks before I was finally showed into the Principal’s office, where I smoothed my little skirt so naturally underneath me and held my slender smooth legs together demurely.

“Brian Smith?” she asked with a confused furrow on her brow.

“It’s Stacy now,” I replied with a forced confident smile that masked my terror.

“I see. And is this official? Do you have a psychiatrist’s note or other legal documentation?”

I felt like even more of an idiot. I was so scared about what I was doing that I didn’t even consider the issues that the school itself might have to deal with. I hadn’t given any thought at all to my legal name… or things as simple as which bathroom I should use.

“I’m sorry Ms. Jennings,” I said with my dazzling blue eyes focused down in my pressed little lap.

She looked at me as if deciding things of her own.

“Brian… Stacy. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you to come to school like this. You’re the bravest young person I’ve ever met just for being here. But there are policies and procedures in place, and the district isn’t quite as understanding as I am. You have to understand that unless you can properly document who you are; we have to recognize you by your legal name.”

“I understand,” I said in my Stacy-voice… almost unable to use another while looking like that.

“But we’re not heartless,” she said with a growing smile, “The School Board is particularly afraid of opening itself to lawsuits too. If you can show that you are at least in the process of professionally dealing with your gender issue… Stacy… than I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… See a psychiatrist about what you’re doing Stacy and bring in a note about it. You might need to put a boy’s name on tests and course work until your legal status changes but, until then, the psychiatrist’s note should let you at least avoid being forced to wear the wrong clothes. We’re so close to the end of term and your attendance has been exemplary. I’m sure we can find a way around your remaining PE classes. There’s a unisex restroom in the teacher’s lounge that we can make available too… but get that note!”

I stared at her for a long while before whispering, “Thank you Ms. Jennings.”

“You do realize that I’m going to have to send you home for the day though. Until you get that note, I have to think of the other students too. If there’s a way to see a doctor today, I’d highly recommend it. Oh. And by the way.”

“Yes Ms. Jennings?”

“You look adorable in that outfit Dear.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile that started growing in spite of my fears.

Once out of the office, I went to the front of the school and pulled my cell out of my purse to call home. I quickly explained everything to my mother, who soon came to pick me up. If I sensed that she had expected my day at school to push me in one direction or another, it was fleeting. Her sympathetic expression made me feel like she was sorry that she had “let” me go to school so unprepared.

“After being so worried about what they might do to you and poor Bobby at the prom; I should have been more careful! Can you forgive me?”

“You missed the turn Mother,” I replied instead of answering her.

“No I didn’t. We’re going to a doctor.”

“We are?!”

“Well… When you said that Ms. Jennings…”

My mother had made several calls before leaving to pick me up. It seemed that she was determined to correct her lapse in “being careful” too. The visit to the doctor didn’t seem real. Either did the sting in my hip. But the note from the doctor was very real… too real even. I was talking with Bobby on the phone from my room that night.

“When everyone heard how Jennings sent you home, half the class started talking about showing up in a dress too.”

I almost had to ask, “Are you serious?”

“No one’s actually going to do it though,” he laughed. “Still. It might be fun to get a day off like that. Maybe I’LL show up in a…”

“There wasn’t anything fun about today,” I sulked into my cell phone.

“I’m sorry Stace. I didn’t mean anything by it. Are you okay?”

“You tell me,” I snapped unexpectedly, “I’m staring at a doctor’s note that lets me go to school as a girl! He… He…”

I actually started sobbing.

“He what?” Bobby asked with intense concern.

“He gave me a shot of hormones Bobby… female hormones.”

“No way…” he whispered.

Blubbering as I spoke in my girlish Stacy-voice, I went on about how the doctor was torn by my case. On the one hand, he was very encouraged that I had come to him before my secondary male characteristics had become too advanced. But on the other hand, he was concerned about introducing hormones before making a proper evaluation.

In the end, he determined that the benefits of the initial doses for someone still in adolescence outweighed the pitfalls. It would take months before any changes might be visible anyway, in which time he could make a more reasoned preliminary diagnosis. In that period, the female hormones, even if they didn’t affect significant developments as a woman, would at least override and temporarily help to forestall further male development along with the testosterone blockers.

I broke down crying uncontrollably. The possibility that the hormones themselves might have been playing with my emotions only made things worse.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhusshhhhhhhhhhhh Stacy. It’s going to be alright. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhushhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

When I was composed enough to squeeze simple words through my hitching sobs; I said, “H-how c-c-can you s-SAY that?! I’ve got got female hormones in m-me Bob-by!”

His quiet reply caught me off guard.

“But isn’t that a good thing?”


“The hormones. They’ll turn you into a girl. I mean. You’ll get real curves and stuff… right?”

“Wh-what are you talk-talking about Bob-by?! They’ll t-t-turn me into a a girl!!!!”

He let my sobbing go for a long while before he said, “But isn’t that what you want?”

With a hitch still in my pretty little voice; I whispered, “What?”

“I know they’ll turn you into a girl Stacy… but isn’t that what you want?”

I stared into the space over my bed… completely unsure of what I wanted. Did I really love Bobby? Did he really arouse me as only my “boyfriend” could? Did taking his penis in my mouth and swallowing his semen turn me on as much as I thought it did? Did I love having breasts and girlish curves and wearing pretty things? Did I really like Stacy so much more than someone named Brian?

“These h-hormones are really m-messing with me,” I whimpered into my phone, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s okay to be scared.”


“Are you going to be alright Stace?”


“How about school? Who’s coming tomorrow?”

“Me Silly!” I half-scolded in my Stacy-voice.

“I love you Stacy Smith,” he said, “But you can’t do this for me. You have to be doing this for you.”

His reminder was just what I needed to hear. It really was scary to have female hormones coursing through my body. It was terrifying to have a note that said I could go to school in the morning as someone named Stacy. But as truly terrifying as it was, I really did want to be “her”… the person who I was at that very moment.

“It just seems so sudden,” I whimpered, “so permanent.”

My own words struck me. In a way, I missed those times “practicing” for the prom; when I could be Stacy on weekends and Brian during the week. School, Bobby, that way-too-extensive wardrobe, which had taken over my closet and drawers… I was being forced to choose to be one or the other, but not both.

For an instant, I imagined a life trying to do just that. I imagined Brian going to school and getting a job and “dressing up” like Stacy when I wanted. But that flash seemed so unhappy for both me and to the people around me. I imagined being unable to really be either of them fully. I imagined being unable to feel complete like I craved to feel with Bobby… and being unable to see myself truly dating women with a girlishly smooth little body of my own.

As scary as it was to admit to myself, I realized that I didn’t even WANT to be able to date as a man. It had only been a few months, but I realized that the only femininity I craved was within myself. I hushed into the phone…

“oh god bobby.”


“I really DO want to be Stacy.”

“Are you sure?”


I was trembling; thankful that Bobby couldn’t see me at that moment. There were some more words and heartfelt I-love-yous. When we had finally hung up; I curled up under my covers in my ever-present corset and panties before sleep finally washed over me.

My mother woke me in the morning. She seemed to be pleased with the outfit I had picked out the night before and only made one comment about my choice of jewelry, which she thought was too dressy for the scoop-top white body-suit and curve-hugging capris-jeans. It was already getting easier to draw the corset laces tighter myself, but I was grateful for her last helpful tugs. I was even happy that she hadn’t needed to tell me much about putting on my makeup either.

Daddy was even more “normal” when I came downstairs in my black low-heeled Mary Janes and a matching handbag.

“Good morning Daddy,” I said kissing his cheek like I had the prior morning.

“Good morning Stacy,” he said with a smile before catching himself.

“I liked that,” I said as I sat with my Special K and soy milk; this time slicing half of a banana in too.

“Liked what?”

“I liked how you said good morning like you used to on all those other weekends… when… well… those other weekends.”

I didn’t need to say “those other weekends when I was just practicing”. He knew in an instant that the unthinking morning exchange felt just like those carefree weekends… when being Stacy was still just a goofy part of a stupid bet.

“I liked it too,” he mumbled over the top of his paper, which he lowered.

I couldn’t help the mist welling in my eyes; silently cursing how those hormones were betraying me.

He reached over and wiped a tear from my cheek with the back of his finger.

“There, there, Stacy. It’ll be okay.”

Then the mist crept into his own eyes before he leaned towards me and held me in his arms. With a hitch to his own voice he added…

“Oh Stacy. I don’t care if you dress like an elephant… I love you SO much.”

“Oh Daddy!”

We held onto each other for a long while; both pretending not to hear Mother’s hushed sobs in the other room.


Principal Jennings’ office was even more terrifying with that psychiatrist’s note in her hand. Her giving me her own note to present to the PE teacher… and a key to the Teacher’s Lounge unisex bathroom… seemed to make everything more “real” than even the hormones, which I still had a hard time believing were coursing through my body.

There were comments from some of the other students but not as many as the day before. If anything, people seemed almost reluctant to ask about how I seemed to have erased any bulges under those jeans or created very real curves that seemed to have sprouted overnight at the prom. Most seemed almost unable, or too embarrassed themselves, to do anything other than treat me like the personal who I appeared to be… Stacy Smith.

“Hi Stacy.”

Bobby kissed me by my locker when he saw me for the first time; like it was a perfectly normal thing to do with his “girlfriend”.

There were some fast-turning heads but Bobby didn’t seem to care. He just smiled that comforting smile as if we were the only two people in the world.

“Hi Bobby.”

“You look great by the way… like always.”

“Thank you,” I blushed.

“Did you do the math assignment?”

His talking to me about the most mundane things was like a breath of fresh air, and I loved him all the more for it. I almost stopped hearing his words. All I could seem to do was watch his perfect mouth moving while he spoke.

Bobby took my hand and walked me to my next class as if we had been a couple forever. His casual normalcy about it seemed to affect the people who saw us too, who seemed to almost have to play along. His gentle kiss goodbye was so disorientingly “right”.

“Bobby?” I asked timidly before parting.

“Yeah Stace?”

I stared for a brief moment before letting a smile trace across my glossy full lips.

“I love you.”

It felt so incredible to see how my smile could make him, or any boy, light up like that.

“I love you too.”

And with a second goodbye peck, we both went about the rest of our day.

One day… and then another. Before long a week had gone by. There was a weekend “date”, but even Daddy seemed to have taken it in stride. I don’t know why, but I almost WANTED people to be freaked out by it. I almost wanted to feel pressure to stop the wonderful insanity. A part of me wanted to be forced to confront a nagging guilt for so enjoying something that my brain still told me was somehow wrong. I almost needed someone to slap me back to a dull gray reality instead of coasting through an all-too-enjoyable “something” that still felt strangely temporary.

But nobody did. More days and more dates and then we were cramming for finals and State exams. Coupled with caps, gowns, and Mother making sure that I’d have something “suitable” for graduation underneath, things were just too busy to think about something that was becoming more routine by the day.

Graduation brought back some of the fearful feelings of exposure. News of Stacy had spread through my relatives very early on, but the graduation party that Mother insisted on going through was going to double as a sort of coming-out for me too. I shouldn’t have worried though. Like almost everywhere else, everyone seemed to go out of their way to act if nothing was wrong. The gentle ribbing from a couple of cousins was actually welcome.

Two weeks afterwards, with school behind us, I was strolling with Bobby along a sandy beach in the moonlight. I wore a white little bustier top with a gauzy white skirt billowing about my smooth legs in the summer breeze. I was holding my corky sandals by their twine-like straps and watching my pink polished toes press into the sand with each step. In a simple T-shirt, Bobby was holding his sneakers and had rolled up his jeans to keep from getting wet by the rippling waves at the water’s edge.

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

I shrugged my delicate shoulders before answering.

“Everybody seems to think it’ll be easier.”

“But college. It’s so important. What about your dreams?”

“My dreams are a little confusing for me right now,” I said with a self-deprecating smile.

“But not going to college?”

“It’s not like I’m not EVER going to go Bobby. It’s only a year. Lots of kids take a year between. Jamie’s going to Europe. Tom’s going to do a Peace Corp thing somewhere. Bill’s going to save some money first.”


“It really will be easier,” I sighed. “Principal Jennings made the last weeks easy, but I took tests and graduated under someone else’ name that doesn’t fit me anymore. Transcripts and things are in the old name too. It’s complicated Bobby. Dorms and stuff like that at college… well… it’ll just be easier once I’m legally Stacy.”

He nodded as we kept walking. The cool sand and salty air made me shiver in the evening breeze. Bobby just pulled me closer against him by my tiny waist.

“Are you cold?” he asked; gently changing the subject, which I was glad for.

“A little.”

He stopped our progress along the sand and faced me… enveloping me in his arms and looking down into my moonlit blue eyes.

“Is this better?” he whispered with heavy lids and parted lips.

“Yes,” I whispered back before finding something better to do with my mouth than talk.


It was a simple job. I didn’t need an ID to waitress. The restaurant wasn’t too fancy but was fancy enough to have a kind of dress-code for the staff. We were to be all in black. Women were to wear above the knee skirts and black hose. Our shoes were supposed to be sensible, but with a heel... if that were even possible.

The days became weeks, which melted into the months of summer. I almost stopped thinking about what I was doing anymore. Doing my corsets, boobs, makeup, nails, and hair had become as routine as brushing my teeth. My Stacy-voice had simply become “my” voice and something I no longer even thought about. Speaking, moving, gesturing. My feminine mannerisms had ingrained themselves on me and were almost frighteningly natural after all that time.

Then there were the hormones. They actually hadn’t done too much, but the little that they had done was so gradual that I barely gave it a thought. It wasn’t like my nipples had become large and sensitive overnight. I couldn’t suddenly see my muscles and skin softening, my hair thickening, or my features taking on subtly smoother lines one morning. The tiny pre-pubescent bumps on my chest were hard to notice after having “breasts” all day in my ever-present corsets, which I even slept in.

Fall seemed to come all too suddenly. A dreaded goodbye finally arrived.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” I said while fussing with his shirt where we stood.

“I know.”

Bobby was staring down into my dazzling blue eyes. There was no moonlight, but the love I felt for him was so strong that I felt an actual ache. If I stepped back from myself, I might have thought about the insanity of having a boyfriend… of actually being someone’s GIRLFRIEND. Only I didn’t “step back from myself” anymore.

“You promise you won’t even look at other girls?”

He laughed at my pretend jealousy, which wasn’t so pretend.

“You’re the only girl for me Stacy.”

His lips felt so good on mine… but they pulled away.

“I’ll call you every night,” he said as he stepped into his car.

“You’d better,” I threatened with an impotent false scowl.

There were waives. There were blown kisses. There were retreating tail lights that eventually rounded the corner from sight.

Bobby’s words of a lifetime ago came rushing back. He had said that if I was going to become Stacy; it had to be because I wanted to do it for ME… that I couldn’t do it for him. With him leaving for his freshman year of college, I suddenly felt more than alone. I felt adrift. And for seemingly the first time in months, I thought about what I was doing.

I was growing breasts. Hips and a surprisingly attractive butt were rounding out on me. I was on women’s hormones and living as someone named Stacy. I hadn’t worn boy-things in months. I wasn’t sure where my old boy things were… or even if they were in the house at all.

As bizarre as it sounded though, my having become Bobby’s girlfriend seemed to have swayed my decision after all. Whether it was Bobby or some other boy, I knew that I was to be the girl. I could be nothing else.

It was too much. I couldn’t bear even the possibility of anyone other than my Bobby just then. I simply couldn’t think about it. I didn’t WANT to think about it. So I went home and sulked for my boyfriend… essentially holing up in my girlish bedroom until hearing from my Bobby.

There was nothing else I could do except simply go on with my life… simply living it day to day as the young woman I had somehow become, Stacy.

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