Scarlett; Brush With History

Scarlett; Brush With History

I was a director of the local museum, six years of university managing to get me to this point. It was a small museum, in a southern state, funded by several Patrons of the museum. The Patrons of Oak Lane is the name they went by, the museum had been built to honor their family’s history and the history of the area. It had grown, twice they had added more to the museum, the building now over thirty thousand square feet under roof.

In actuality it was several old store fronts that got rebuilt and added to. The families had money, but were also wanting to preserve as much of the history of the area as possible. It was located in a quaint little town in the southern part of Georgia. Not much to the town, a main street and a few assorted gas stations towards the edge of town. We did get a few tourists from time to time, the area rich in history, with lots of plantations within a few miles of the town. A hotel, restaurant, some retail shops and a combination general store was it for businesses. We had three churches, representing most of the religions that people in the south worshiped.

How I ended up here is quite unusual. After my fifth year at university, one of my professors at University of Georgia heard from someone that needed a director for their museum. I was a history major, had my Masters already and was thinking of pursuing my Doctorate. My name was brought up and he had obtained an interview with the patrons of the museum if I wished to attend. It didn’t sound thrilling, so I was a little put off that he would ask if I am interested. He suggested that it might be worth my time to attend the interview, a lot of southern history is housed there and the families of the Patrons are very influential in the state. Even if I was offered the job and turned it down it would look good on my resume, a plus for future interviews.

So I drove down to the museum and met with Ms. Davis for the interview. The meeting lasted for over five hours as she asked me questions that I didn’t think would be asked. How I saw the museum in general, what importance I put on local history, and what relevance could history be assigned to modern day life.

My personal history is covered in detail along with my family and romantic interests. The questions on the museum and my view of it were expected, but the ones on my family and romantic interest were not. I answered truthfully, I had nothing to hide but wondered why a few of those questions came up in the questioning. I saw that she had a copy of my transcripts from college, I am sure my professor had provided that. Luckily I didn’t tense up, she is an easy lady to talk with, friendly but also deep probing.

The interview had started out with her asking me if it would be alright to video tape the interview. I nodded my assent. She said that the other patrons would review it before a decision would be made. After she got my viewpoint on everything including the price of eggs, she told me about the job and what would be expected of me. They wanted a working director, someone to host the tours, answer questions of the guests and attend any and all social functions in the state, representing the museum. It would require me to learn the history of the area and especially the families involved in the creation of the museum.

It sounded way more than I wanted to tackle, I imagine the pay would not be that much, so a lot of work for not much return. I politely listened to her, asking a few general questions about the hours of the museum, and if there was any other staff. They were open six days a week from ten AM to five PM, and other than two historians working part time, no other staff. All the setup of displays and exhibits was accomplished by volunteers, about thirty different ones that helped on a regular basis when needed. Any tour now was hosted by a volunteer, adequate but not what they desired in the long run.

I asked about the salary for the position, but she declined mentioning any pay figure until the rest of the patrons saw the interview. She suggested that I stay in town tonight, their treat, and come see her tomorrow at noon and she will fill me in on the rest of the details if I was approved. It was getting late and I was not looking forward to the four hour drive back to Athens, so I agreed to stay until tomorrow.

She had already made arrangements at the hotel in town for me, told me to eat at the Southern Lady restaurant and mention her name and they would take care of my tab. I got an unexpected hug and I left for the hotel. I was impressed at her interest in me, the hug something I was not expecting. The questions of the interview were fact finding, but the hug and her wanting to be sure that a room for the night and a dinner is okay with me kind of showed her concern for me.

Initially I had decided to turn down the job if offered, but time and thought might change all of that. A nice bed and a good meal would help my thought processes quite a bit, maybe it would help me decide what to do, if I was even offered the job.

I checked in at the hotel, they asked about baggage, I had not intended to stay the night, so I explained that and the desk clerk gave me a small valise with essentials for the evening, courtesy of the hotel. As she explained to me Ms. Davis owns the hotel, the restaurant and several other businesses in town. Maybe I shouldn’t be too hasty in turning this job down if offered, that thought came out of nowhere, but maybe deserved some consideration in the long run.

The room was huge, a canopy bed with exquisite linens, a full dresser, and a huge walk-in closet. I made myself comfortable on the love seat and stared out the window of the room. I was on the third floor that was the first obstacle since there was no elevators in the hotel. I was winded by the time I made it to my room, but once I opened the door with the key that was furnished all was better. No TV but an individual stereo, with racks of records, tapes and even some original 45’s still in their original sleeve. I knew what I would be doing tonight, to wile away the hours till bedtime. My love of music would at least be sated after the evening here.

My stomach growled, and that became the next concern. I washed my face and hands, brushed my hair and put it back in its low ponytail, tucked inside my shirt collar. I made my way to the restaurant as it was only right down the block, with only a small frontage on Main Street. When I walked through the doors I was amazed. The place was huge, at least a hundred feet back with the kitchen right in the center of the room. It was decorated as if it was directly pulled from the Civil War era and transported here. All the ladies working there were dressed in clothes of the era, their hair done up and piled on top of their head. The skirts were full the blouses gathered around the neckline showing off their breasts. The best part though is the smell that was emanating from that kitchen.

I was shown to a table and asked what I would have tonight. No menu was offered, if you didn’t know what was offered all you had to do was ask and the server would recite the entire menu. When she asked me I replied. “I’ll take a portion of what smells so good, some iced tea and a salad with some dressing.”

She started to tell me the dressings, I just told her to surprise me. The iced tea was delicious, obviously brewed here and not from a mix. They served some stir-fried vegetables with a ranch dressing for appetizers and of course fresh rolls. Those came with all the dinners no matter what you ordered. The first bite of the homemade rolls with butter made me a believer, the vegetables cinched the deal. I could make a whole meal on just those two items alone.

Of course, the delightful smell was fried chicken, the best fried chicken I have ever had. It was served with mashed potatoes and gravy, broiled zucchini squash and a salad. Six different lettuces, tomato, onions, bell pepper, with a blend of seasonings ground and sprinkled over the salad. Then a tray of dressings, six on this particular tray, ranging from Ranch to Bleu Cheese. I handled the decision on what to put on my salad by using a little of each.

I was stuffed when I finished most of the meal, there was still one piece of chicken and several pieces of zucchini, but I couldn’t eat another bite. Then the waitress had the nerve to ask if I wanted dessert. My answer was a low groan, so she brought me a plastic container for my left overs and a takeout container of iced tea. She informed me of the breakfast menu, then told me that the tab had been handled. I never had the chance to tell her who I was or whom I had seen today for the interview.

I walked back to the hotel, the walk up the stairs actually making me feel a little better. I opened the valise when I got in the room, and saw everything I might need, I took care of my bathroom duties, slipped on the pajamas that were furnished, silk by the way, and loaded some music on the stereo. The sound system was fantastic, the music filling the room as if the orchestra was playing right next to me. I slipped under the covers and soon was sound asleep. I got up to go to the bathroom around three, the music was still playing. I don’t remember loading that much music, but it was welcome, never the less.

I woke up at seven AM, got dressed in my clothes from yesterday and made my way downstairs. I tried to turn in the room key, knowing that I would drive back tonight as soon as I had seen Ms. Davis. The desk clerk told me to hang on to it, if necessary give it back to Ms. Davis when I left. I walked around the town a little, trying to remove some of the bulge in my tummy from last night. Around ten I ventured back to the restaurant and had a small breakfast, figuring I would skip lunch today.

There was a park nearby, so I spent some time there until my interview. I went back to the museum and walked around viewing some of the exhibits. They were very well put together and interesting. I saw where some improvements could be made, and then went back to the museum office a few minutes past noon. Ms. Davis was waiting for me, already behind her desk. On the side couch were three other ladies, I presume some of the patron group.

I was introduced to each, a Ms. Beaumont, Ms. O’Hara, and Ms. Liddell. Ms. Davis continued the conversation. “After looking at the video and discussing your qualifications we have decided to offer you the position. Salary would be sixty thousand a year, would include room and board in the hotel if that is satisfactory. Later, if you require a house we can make some kind of arrangement for it. Meals of your choosing at my restaurant. Hours worked in the fifty to sixty hour area, two weeks’ vacation a year, and a percent of the museum fees collected. At this time we have decided on five percent. Last year that would have netted you another five thousand dollars.”

“We would like you to take another day to think about it, we are wanting someone to stay with us for the long term, not someone only wishing to gain a position to be able to advance to another. For dinner tonight, I would like to invite you to my home, eight PM is fine. Since you are here without extra clothing please go to my clothing store and pick whatever you like, my treat. If you have the time we would like you to visit the rest of the museum and give me your thoughts tonight.”

That was it, they had liked what they saw and offered me the job. No further discussions seemed to be necessary, I should think about it and if I wanted the job just tell them. I was given directions to her clothing store, and said my goodbyes. I knew enough of southern customs, that I took each ladies hand, gave it a light kiss and thanked them for their consideration. When I left the room I saw four smiling faces.

I went through the museum first, making notes on my IPad, for discussion later. They really did have a lot of local history housed there, laid out pretty well for visitors to see and enjoy. From there I went to the clothing store and was greeted by the manageress as soon as I entered the store. Being a small town I figure everybody knew who I was now, even if I hadn’t been introduced to them. I was taken to a changing room in the back, where she helped me get undressed and measured me.

I was a little worried about her behavior, but soon realized that is just how she handles her customers. Since most of the clothing offered is for ladies, I am sure they like this type of treatment. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, it was just that it is so unexpected. Rose returned in a few minutes with a handful of clothing for me to try on. I was just going to pick something and settle for however it fit me, but she was against that from the start.

I tried on each piece until I had tried them all, picked the items that I thought looked the best and then had to put them back on again for her to make note of where they needed to be altered. I was going to say something about the fact that I needed them for tonight, but she hushed me telling me they would be ready in thirty minutes. I dressed again in my clothes, and walked around the store looking at what she had to offer.

I was surprised she had so many period pieces, right out of the movies, even the undergarments that went with them. She caught me looking at one particular dress, cut low in the bodice with an enormous skirt, at least five feet across from one side to the other. I had been looking at the dress for ten minutes, moving it around on the rack to get a look at the front and back of the dress. Not something a man would normally do in a clothing store.

Without any hesitation she asked me if I wanted to try it on, well that short-circuited my mind and nothing came out. She smiled. “When you want to try it on just come back and I will personally take care of you. Now here is the garment bag with your clothes for tonight, the rest of your wardrobe will be delivered to your room later after the shop closes.”

I did manage to get out of the shop, but my mind is apparently gone, now missing in action. Why was I looking at the dress? Rest of my wardrobe, I only picked out the one suit, nothing more. When no sane thoughts are possible the stomach rules and I went to the restaurant for a snack. Five hours till dinner, is a little too long when my body is already close to shut down, both from lack of food and lack of mental activity. I had questions, lots of them, but there is no activity in my poor overwhelmed mind.

Those delicious vegetables and the dressing to dip them in was a perfect snack, without ruining dinner. Back to the hotel, the stairs seem to be getting easier, I am not sure why. I hung up the suit, then laid down for a few minutes. I must have dozed off, because the call from the front desk reminding me of the dinner, was my salvation. I wondered for a minute how they knew about the dinner, but then in a small town, everybody apparently is aware of what is going on.

I freshened up, got dressed and made my way to her home. The directions she had given me were clear, with me arriving a few minutes before eight. Her butler answered the door, a very imposing man, quite polite and very businesslike. I was shown to the library, where Ms. Davis awaited me, and after greeting her I set in one of the side chairs near her love seat. I complimented her on her looks, and she on mine. We discussed the museum, and I gave her my thoughts on several things.

Nothing was said at the time, but she seemed to be receptive to my ideas. It was never brought up whether I would accept the job, just talk about the museum and then a tour of her house. It was beautiful, way too many rooms, but each one decorated to the period and all with apparent antiques, original to that time in history. There was nothing out of place, not a bedspread, curtain, doily, throw rug, absolutely nothing.

Gregory, her butler, announced dinner, and led us to a huge dining room. The table must have seated at least twenty, for tonight just the two of us, setting at one end of the huge table. The dishes were China, all antiques, and the settings were fully displayed. A dinner dish, dessert plate, salad plate, soup bowl, cup and saucer, then all the serving dishes gathered in the middle of the table next to our place settings. The silverware was actual Silver, the design quite ornate, and I counted at least seven pieces around my place setting. Three crystal glasses were there too, for what I am not sure, but they added a lot of elegance to the place setting.

The food looked delicious, pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, Sauerkraut, corn on the cob and of course salad. She apologized for not having soup, but she felt it was too warm to offer it at this time of year. I put a little of each on my plate, at this rate I will be a blimp before I manage to leave town.

Idle chit chat during dinner, then we made our way to the parlor for tea and pastries. The pastries did it for me, every different kind I tried so mouthwatering delicious. Ms. Davis was smirking as I tried to be conservative in my choices, but when the pastry got to my mouth and I took a bite, the low moan of satisfaction kind of gave the game away.

We eventually got down to some serious business, discussing the museum, their plans for it and my ideas on what could make it better. Three hours of this discussion brought us up to Eleven PM. I told her I would like to take the job, as long range employment, not something for just a few years. Everything she had told me was satisfactory, the wages, the room at the hotel, and the meals at her restaurant.

I will work with them to develop a plan for implementation of some of their better ideas, and also solutions to make their other projects more doable. “I need three weeks to take care of my responsibilities at Athens, then I will be back to start employment. I just have some personal effects, and some clothes to bring, no furniture or other larger possessions.”

“That will be fine, the store has delivered to your room your wardrobe that has been altered to fit you. I think you will find adequate clothing there for your job as director. Unless you want to choose another room, the one that you are in will be your room at the hotel. When next at the restaurant you can pick a table as yours, it will be kept empty for you whenever you desire it. Please plan on coming to one of our houses every Sunday for dinner, a must if you are going to be working with us. When you return Gregory will work out a schedule for you. Thank you for accepting our offer of employment, I am sure both parties will be quite happy.”

We said our goodbyes and I headed back to the hotel. The stairs seemed to be getting easier, now I don’t mind them at all. I made myself comfortable, put on some music and relaxed in a chair over by the window. I could get used to this, although not an apartment it is a nice room with bath and with the restaurant I will not starve, probably the opposite a more likely outcome. I suddenly remembered the wardrobe, got up and went to the walk in closet. Now full with all manner of clothes, many suits, sport jackets, slacks, and even a horde of casual clothes. I couldn’t believe it, thousands of dollars of clothes now in my closet. I guess there was not much doubt of me taking the job, since the clothes were delivered before I actually accepted the job offer.

I relaxed for quite a while, then packed a few items for my trip back to Athens. I had told her three weeks just in case, but I doubted it would take me three days to gather what few items I wanted to save. The dorm room was not a problem, all I had to do was clean it to get my deposit back. I would have to make sure that I thanked the professor for his help, a dream job delivered to me on a platter, a silver platter.

The next morning I made the trip back to Athens, gathered my few possessions and checked out of my dorm room. I found the Professor and thanked him, he then told me that before I went down to the interview he knew I would get the job. I was a perfect fit for what they had in mind, both short term and long term. You made a good decision to accept the offer I am looking forward to seeing you at some of the meetings of museum directors later this year and next year.

I took my time heading back, even spent a day at one of the theme parks in the area. Then another at one of the gardens, known nationally for their beauty. It is kind of weird to visit them alone, but I had fun people watching, a favorite past-time of mine for years. I arrived back and settled the few possessions I brought back into my room.

The restaurant was my first stop, I had missed it the most, although the stereo and the music was a close second. I tried there Boston Butt, the first bite sent waves of pleasure through my body. The steamed cauliflower and homemade macaroni and cheese completed the meal. I managed to clean my plate, even using my finger to get the few spots of cheese sauce off the corner of the plate. I decided then to skip breakfast and lunch so that I could enjoy the dinner here at her restaurant in the future. I found out that they offered ten different selections every night, nothing repeated during the week.

The next day I made my way to the museum, to get started. Ms. Davis was waiting for me, her network of informers in the town doing their job well. She showed me my office, then allowed me time to settle in and get started. I made another tour of the museum seeing what should be fixed now and what could wait for a few days. I contacted a couple of the volunteers, asking them if I could get their help in the next few days.

When I arrived the next day they were waiting for me, eager to get started. I gave each of them a project, outlined and explained on a computer generated sheet. I had them read it, to see if they had any questions. The smiles on their faces showed that the way I had explained the project was perfect. By lunch most of them had finished, the couple of projects that still needed some help soon had the rest of the volunteers pitching in, and by three all of the projects had been completed.

What I had done initially was to label each display, using computer generated signs and artwork. All were true to the period, in easy to read script detailing what each display was pointing out. People involved, time lines, what actually happened, and impact on history. The displays they worked on had some of this material, but in homemade signs and graphics that were hard to read and lacking all the information. All the volunteers had to do was mount the signs and attach them to the display. I had generated each display with a different background color, so that the nearby displays could easily be distinguished from one another.

I had taken a few pictures with my phone and sent them to Ms. Davis. It is something we had talked about, but she didn’t have any idea how I was going to implement it. An hour later, all four patrons entered the museum, walking around and admiring the changes. Nothing was said to the volunteers, but as they left I received four bigger than life smiles from the Patrons.

During the rest of the week, I spent time learning about the local history, who was involved and what happened. As I was committing all of this to memory, I found a few mistakes where the wrong information had been supplied to the people setting up the display. That turned out to be my second week project, finding and fixing all of those mistakes. Most of it was just clerical errors, putting the wrong name down when researching the history.

All of the local history was taken from journals, letters from the people involved and from newspaper clippings of the time. These actual history sources were kept in safe storage in the basement of the museum. We used acid free boxes and folders, stored in a temperature controlled environment free of any sunlight. Since the material has been stored this way for years, all of it is in pristine condition. I planned to take it one step further, having all the material scanned into electronic files in the near future. This would serve as a second backup if there was ever any damage to the originals.

By the third week I was hosting the tours myself, we had two a day, a walking tour of the museum where I filled the attendees in on other aspects of the displays, history not in the display itself. They were scheduled for two hours each, although I never was able to limit them to that time. Once we got started they were interested in the rest of the story, and how all of it tied together leading up to the families of today.

From my first day I had kept a journal of things that interested the visitors, questions asked of me and what parts of the local history were the most popular with the visitors. Without a doubt the Civil war period and prohibition were the two periods that fascinated people the most. Since most of our visitors were female and their children, the dress of the period, what activities were pursued, and what people did to entertain themselves were the most asked about.

Along with the walking tours, we were visited several times by the local schools, ever year, and the variety of our exhibits kept the attention of the students. We had agriculture exhibits, what crops were grown, how food was prepared, and what life was like back in the civil war years. Since most of the historical material was from that period that was what most of the exhibits dealt with. There was a small tourist interest in the area, mainly civil war buffs and people interested in the prohibition years.

That was the other claim to fame of the area. There were numerous stills in the area, lots of fast cars and even a large speakeasy just outside of the city limits back in that era. How it got to be here is a mystery, but since we were not that far from Augusta and Savannah it was very popular. At first they did not want to acknowledge that time during prohibition, but eventually the patrons decided it was more noteworthy than humiliating.

Ms. Lydia Davis was the spokesperson for the group of ladies that funded the museum, the patrons to all the rest of us. She had asked me to her home, to discuss something that has just come up. I had an idea, since one of the Patrons, Ms. Liddell, had died recently. Her funeral was quite large, a very prominent citizen like her is quite respected and everyone turned out to show their respects. Of course, I attended, although we were never close like Ms. Davis and I, we still interacted every once in a while. The one odd thing was the Sunday dinners with each of the Patrons, her house was never gone to. When it was her time to host the dinner it was always at Ms. Davis’s house.

I usually got along with Ms. Davis, her ideas were doable, not something that could never be attempted. After their selection of me I was pretty much left alone to run the museum. She did check in with me from time to time, but never to interfere. At those times I would cover changes that I was planning and the general condition of the museum. She would listen then go back to the Patrons to report. Never a comment made to me about what I was doing or how I was doing it.

I was greeted at her front door by her butler Gregory, a very influential member of the community and frequent volunteer to the museum. He led me to her parlor, where she was waiting for me. I took her hand and kissed it, a familiarity that was often indulged in the south and a normal thing between the two of us.

I found a seat and Gregory asked what I wanted to drink. I chose tea, a favorite of Ms. Davis, I am sure that he had prepared a pot for her. Ms. Davis started the conversation. “We need to deal with the death of Ms. Liddell, a prominent member of the Patrons. She left her entire estate to the museum, with a few stipulations in place to make sure her wishes are carried out. Ms. Liddell was the most financial well off of the females in the Patron group, so the museum will benefit greatly.”

“Her house which is right next door to the museum is the main part of her gift to us. It has been in her family for over a hundred and sixty years. It has recently been renovated completely from the basement to the attic. Everything has been kept as it was in the years around the civil war, but some modern upgrades have been added to make it more livable. Those things that have been changed, have been done so that the mansion is still authentic to its period in appearance.”

“She wants the house added to the museum tour, with someone living there all the time to host the tour and speak of the life in those times. Since it is quite large, including a miniature ball room in the basement, she would like socials, balls, dances hosted there to give everybody a peek at the atmosphere she was raised under. It is her dream for it to become an integral part of the community again, like it once was.”

She paused, I nodded my head and told her I saw no problem with her wishes. “It would be fairly easy to make the addition to the museum, then set about scheduling events there to fulfill the rest of her wishes and desires. Gregory had brought us our tea and we both sipped at it, enjoying the sweet taste of this brew. I sensed there is more to this than what I have heard so far, but I also knew that Ms. Davis preferred to do things at her pace and remained silent until she restarted the conversation.

“Ms. Liddell made several specific requests in her will, all of them dealing with you.” That statement surprised me, I had talked to her during the two years I had been here, just as I did with the other Patrons, but we never managed to get beyond Patron/employee in any discussions that we had. Ms. Davis and I had got beyond that employee classification, we got along well and often interacted with each other away from the museum. I escorted her to a couple of dances, actually more of a social, but never the less we enjoyed a pleasant evening when the occasion arose.

Ms. Davis was apparently at a loss for words, not knowing how to tell me what was requested of me. Instead of saying something, I just sat there, waiting for her to find the words. I guess it is more difficult than even I thought, since she decided to pick up a copy of the will and read Ms. Liddell’s request of me directly from the will.

I want Scott to handle my home personally, live there and conduct the tours and be hostess to any social gathering she feels would be appropriate. I have admired her since the interview video, but not as Scott. Down deep she is Scarlett, a Southern Belle, to the core. Her interaction with others, her demeanor, her appearance all speak of an inner female that need to see the light of day. I know that initially she will reject the idea, her pride not allowing her to see inside her heart and body.

There for I am giving her a gift of fifty-thousand dollars, the only string attached is live in the house and dress as a female for fourteen days. Perform her duties as she usually does, but as a female. I have arranged for some help in her transformation, all of my clothes have been cleaned and tailored to fit her and her new body. No expense will be necessary for the fourteen days, everything has been taken care of. If at the end of the fourteen days if you see fit to perpetuate the role, everything that I own and have will be yours, including the house. I do ask that you still allow the house to be toured, be a hostess to dances and social functions, like it was back in my youth.

“I know I have asked a lot of you Scott, but feel sure that you will make the right decision. Take a day to think about it, let your male façade go on vacation for two weeks, I am sure you will not regret it.” I was speechless, finally I managed to ask Ms. Davis if she agreed with what Ms. Liddell has stated.

“Since you came here you have always been Scarlett, maybe not in dress, but in mind and actions always a female, a cultured Southern Belle. Change the clothes, speak softer, and you are easily Scarlett.”

Maybe this is not the time to bring it up, but your professor in University saw it, when we asked if he knew of anyone, your name came up immediately. His words stated the obvious. “She would be a perfect fit for the museum and the local history, just needs to find herself, a job that I am sure you might be able to assist her in.

Lost in thought, it was quite some time later when Ms. Davis asked if I might want to eat something, she had been with me the whole time, letting my mind process all the information that had been dumped on it. I shook my head trying to get a rational thought out, I told her yes, something to eat would be nice. She rang for Gregory, told him what to get and he disappeared, soon returning with bags of food from the restaurant.

The dining room was set, the food placed on the table then Ms. Davis took my hand and led me to my chair. I was there in body, but lost in thought. I ate, but couldn’t even tell you what it was that I consumed. I do remember that it tasted good, but that is the extent of my recollection of the meal. There was no conversation, at least, if there was I don’t remember a word of it.

After dinner I was having a hard time staying coherent, conversation was impossible. Ms. Davis asked if I would like to lay down for a while to let things process, I nodded my head and then she asked Gregory if he would take me to Ms. Liddell’s, briefly show me around then let me explore the house on my own for a while, maybe take a nap if necessary. It sounded good to me, I had never been to her house and since she had specified so many things in her will involving me I needed to get to know her a little better, maybe looking through her house would give me a feel for her. It was a short trip there, less than a block to be precise, right on the other side of the museum entrance. He showed me to the back door, unlocked it and handed me the keys. We went in with him leading the way as he showed me through the three floors of the house. He pointed out things, showed me where things that I might need were located and then prepared to leave.

I asked him to stay for a minute, tried to figure out how to ask him what he thought of all of this. He is also part psychic, as he gave me a big smile. “You have been the topic of conversation of the ladies ever since you arrived here. They have discussed every facet of this many times, your possible reaction and if you will accept their plan. Ever since the dress episode at her clothing store, you were being primed for just this type of thing. My opinion, yes you should do it, I also see a female beneath the shroud you live under. Wouldn’t it be nice to live life as it should have been, at least once? He leaned over took my hand and gently caressed it, then leaving a small kiss on it, he left.

It must have been hours before I realized that I was just standing there in her parlor, staring at an empty space somewhere in front of me. My hand was tingling where Gregory had kissed it, such a feeling to be treated as a female, a southern lady. I slowly made my way back through the house, looking at how it was decorated, the pictures that were hung on the walls, the nick-knacks on the various pieces of furniture. Although it was my first time here they were familiar, like I had been there when the picture was taken or the item purchased.

The library was the most fascinating room of the house. I browsed through her extensive library, picking a book here or there to read a page or two from it. All of it utterly fascinating. In these books were the history of the south, her family in particular. I was tempted to sit and read, the fascination of the books hard to suppress.

I yielded though to my curiosity, and went browsing again this time to the upper floors of the house. When I entered her bedroom, the feeling of being in the right place overcame me. I sat at her vanity, looking through her cosmetics, all brand new and never opened. I would imagine they were in my colors, if truth be known.

In one of the side drawers, there were letters, I picked up the stack, I know not the reason I did so, it just seemed to be what I needed to do. Shuffling through them I came upon one addressed to me. It was sealed, but had never been mailed. I used her letter opener and slit the top of the envelope. I withdrew the letter and unfolded it, there in her own handwriting was her request of me. Some of the words were the same as used in the will, others were obviously her personal words for me as to why she had made such a request of me.

If you have found this letter you and I have a connection that spans time and dimensions. Please read it thoroughly and believe that the things stated are true and heart felt. From the day I saw you in the video, I knew you were the one to continue my work here. The image in the video was of a young male, but all I saw was a female yearning to get out of her shell. Ten minutes into the video I told the other ladies that we would hire you, no matter the cost. As the video continued playing I outlined what my plans were for you. There was still some doubt whether you would join in, but after the visit to Ms. Davis clothing store we knew you would. Rose described your look after seeing that gown, I did so wish that you would have tried it on, it would have saved many months in planning. Your actions in the following months proved how right I was about you, your take control attitude about the museum, and your leadership of the volunteers, all done to perfection. Then there was your absorption of our local history, all of our family’s history. You found mistakes in those accounts and corrected them, something no mere employee would take the time to do. The other ladies soon saw what I saw from the start, joining in on my plan. Unfortunately my health got worse and I will not be able to see the conclusion of my wishes. I have always felt a connection to you that is not normal. I can sense what you think quite often and I think you can do the same with me. Please do as I wish and give yourself fourteen days to see if you can live this way. Consider it a gift to a loving Mother, who wants to see her daughter grow and prosper.

With much love and respect

Savannah Liddell

I laid the letter down on the vanity and walked to the bed. I slipped off my shoes, then my pants and finally my dress shirt. I laid down on the comforter, staring at the bottom of the canopy cover. My mind wandered, nothing specific, just random thoughts about my job, and my time here so far. Why I looked in the vanity drawer, then through the letters until I found the one addressed to me. Coincidence maybe, but I doubt it. Something was drawing me to the room, the vanity and then the drawer.

I drifted off to a restless sleep, immediately I thought of dancing at a ball, me in a gorgeous peach dress, the skirts swirling around my stockinged legs, while the corset I was wearing is tapering my waist for the best effect. The snugness of my bodice as it follows the lines of the corset, my hair dangling down from the top of my head in blonde curls caressing my ears and tickling my neck. I remember lots of dances, all the young men anxious to swirl me around the dance floor. I wake up, go to the huge walk-in closet and look inside, there on a hanger facing the door is that peach dress. I step in, touch the dress and run my hands over the bodice. I feel it against my body, as if I am wearing it.

I decide to try the fourteen days as a southern lady, as Scarlett. My mind is so preoccupied by the thoughts that I will never get any rest until I start. I put my clothes back on, close up the house and walk back to Ms. Davis’s house. Before I can knock on the door Gregory opens it and leads me to Ms. Davis. I set on the love seat with her, telling her I will do the fourteen days, as per Ms. Liddell’s request. A few minutes later Gregory and another female enter the parlor. It turns out she is Gregory’s wife, Tina, and she will be my personal maid and dresser during the two week period.

We have a nice dinner, both Tina and Gregory helping to serve it. There is little talk, the food is great but my mind is already looking forward to my transformation tomorrow. Ms. Davis and Tina had made the arrangements right after I told her of my decision. I was scared and also thrilled, even excited to be able to be someone else, to be Ms. Liddell’s daughter, to continue her work. The period, the time, the clothes all made that era so special. Most people knew nothing of that time, maybe a little history of the Civil War, but nothing of the ladies, the children and the lives they enjoyed, Maybe I could teach them a little, show them what it was like, help them to see a portion of that history that is so often overlooked.

Tina walks back with me to Ms. Liddell’s house, now mine I guess. I open the door and we enter. She scurries off upstairs to prepare my bed for the evening, I wander off to the library to read for a while. A little while later I hear Tina in the kitchen, she has made tea and I am given a cup. Then she pulls me from the chair and leads me upstairs. I left the tea on the desk, she tells me I can return as soon as she gets me dressed for bed.

Up the stairs her leading me directly to my bedroom. Over by the bed she starts undressing me, folding my clothes and laying them on the bed. She slides a chemise over my shoulders and it settles around my chest. Then a corset is placed around me, the front busk being fastened together. She goes to my back and starts tightening the corset, gently but soon has it conforming to my body. It is tight but not overwhelming. A pair of lacy voluminous pantalets are slid up my legs and settle around my waist.

I managed a peak at the mirror, Scott has already left the room. A lacy nightgown is lowered and I am officially dressed for the night. I am persuaded to sit at the vanity, as she removes my scrunchie and starts brushing my hair. It feels so good, the brush being pulled through my hair making me sigh as the feelings become almost too much to handle. She then separated my hair into three bunches and starts braiding it for me. When she gets to the end she ties the end off with ribbons. I am given some shoes, kind of like a sandal but decorated with ribbons and lace. A robe to wear to make me decent and I am ready.

She helps me to stand then helps me back downstairs. My tea is refreshed, then she gives me a cheek kiss. “I will wake you at seven, you have several appointments for tomorrow and a lot to learn in the next few days. In the back of your closet you will find your stereo and your favorite music to play this evening. Sleep tight and I will see you in the morning.”

I head back upstairs and to my bedroom. I stare at the image in the mirror as I stand before it. A couple of hours have passed since I accepted the trial, but I can see nothing of my male person anymore. I turn right then left to take in the total image. The braid looks so feminine, the ribbons tied off in a bow at the bottom of it, the ends of the ribbons splaying out over my hips. Since I had forgot to bring a book from the library I pick one from the small bookcase along the closet wall.

I lay it on the bed, then went to look in the closet, the closet is huge dresses lining both sides of the room with shelves at the end. Shoes are lined up on the shelves, most of them heels of varying heights. On a shelf shoulder high is the stereo from the room at the hotel and all of the music I had played on it. I load up a selection for the evening, then turn it on. Suddenly the room is filled with music coming from every direction. I look to see where the speakers are but can’t find them.

The closet keeps pulling me back in, the desire to look at the dresses and outfits quite strong. As I am going through the dresses I see the dress that I saw at the store. I pull it out and hold it up to me, swaying back and forth as if I was dancing in the dress I walk out into the room swirling around, the dress’s skirt swinging back and forth to the music. I gently lay it over the back of a chair, my choice for tomorrow if it is appropriate.

The next day is spent at a salon in a nearby town. Originally in a sweat suit, I am quickly undressed and they start work on me. My body hair is removed, my eyebrows are arched in a feminine shape and my hair is washed, conditioned and cut in a feminine style. Essentially my hair length stays the same but my split ends are removed and then placed in curlers to give me the curls of the era. Placed under a dryer my nails are worked on while my curls are baked in. No exaggerated extensions are used. Just shaped and many coats of polish are added. Once my hair is dry, makeup is added and then sprayed to keep it fresh and smudge free. The last thing before my hairstyle is brushed out is a piercing in both ears and Ms. Liddell’s diamond earrings are inserted. Tina shows up with my underwear and dress for the day and thirty minutes later I am corseted and slipped into the dress.

I will have to admit it is heavenly to be encased in the dress, my corset pushing up extra breast tissue to fill the cups quite full. The dress is form fitting through the waist then flared out to a typical southern belle skirt. Tina helps me get back in the car, the skirt making it a requirement to use the back seat, the whole back seat. Back at home I am helped out of the car and taken inside. Walking through the door it seemed to be so much different. It felt like I was finally home, home where I was raised as Mom’s daughter. I shook my head at those thoughts, but they persisted.

Up to my room, the huge skirt really not hampering me as I climbed the stairs. To my bedroom, and the feeling again as I realized that it was now my bedroom, what Mom wanted when she passed on. I looked in the full length mirror on the stand in the corner, the feminine image all that was reflected back to me. It was indeed the image of Scarlett, a daughter to my Mother, one of the original Patrons of the museum.

I turned around, now sensing all the things I need to do to fulfill my Mother’s wishes for the house, the museum and for my life. A simple brush with history and all of this is now mine.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Diane; Surviving The Avalanche

Diane; Surviving The Avalanche

It was a match I was supposed to win easily, against an up and coming female tennis player from a rival high school. Since she is a junior and I am a sophomore we never played each other before. Due to a lack of tennis players in the state, there was no separate male and female teams. Just one team open to either a male or a female. This also applied to several other sports, golf being one of the sports. In the sport of tennis, some of the best players were female, their agility overcoming any male advantage due to the males strength.

The match was part of the state regional playoffs, both of us advancing in the playoffs to eventually end up playing each other. In my way to the playoffs I have played five female players so far, managing to somehow win the matches. Believe me it was not easy, each match extremely contested. The male players tried to bully their way to a win, while the female players used their agility and skill to win a match.

She was definitely ready for me, knowing where my weaknesses were and having a ball exploring every one of them. After the first set which I barely won it was all downhill from there. She ran me from one side of the court to the other, on almost every volley so by the end of the set I was totally pooped. My earlier matches against females were difficult, but nothing compared to this one. In all of my previous tennis matches I have never encountered anyone like her before, so along with being winded I was extremely frustrated.

During the third set I started making mistakes, which allowed her to capitalize on almost every one of mine. I could see she was also not used to such a vigorous game as we played that day, but her determination was much stronger then mine. As I lost the second and third set, we met at the net and she actually hugged me, thanking me for such a great game. While I just scowled at her, my frustration coming to the forefront. I walked off the court, ashamed at my loss, fearing what it would do to my hopes of a pro tennis career. I soon would find out what the end result would be, nothing to do with my proposed career, but everything to do with my hopes for the future.

It was the next day when things started to show up in the school newspaper. Front page article about my loss and an editorial about my play and actions. It was my girlfriend Becky that pointed out the article to me, snickering as she did so. Becky had addressed me as Miss Connely as she handed me the newspaper, a giggle sneaking through her prim and proper smile as she used the greeting.

I looked at the picture thinking that it was one of my opponent yesterday. Wrong, it was one of me that had been apparently photo shopped to make me look like a female. Some makeup on my face, earrings and a huge pink bow on my high ponytail. The shirt I was wearing had been changed from white to a light pink, making the picture all that more believable of a young woman. Luckily for me the picture ended at my waist, no telling what it would look like if it showed my shorts or legs.

The text of the article was even more demeaning, as it listed all of my mistakes yesterday, emphasizing any action of mine that could be considered feminine.

I looked at Becky, wanting to believe that all of this was just an elaborate farce, but her look told me it was real. Then she opened the newspaper to an interior page, showing a picture of me in an evening dress, looking longingly at a mirror, my hair in curls on top of my head and lots more makeup than in the other picture, the lipstick and mascara the most notable. The caption underneath said Homecoming Queen?

Again I recognized the picture, it was the one that a tennis magazine had used in an article about me a little over a year ago. In the original picture I was wearing tennis shorts and a white t-shirt. Whoever changed the picture to that of a female is super talented.

I let out a loud moan, surely this had got to be some kind of weird punishment for something I have done, but for the life of me I could not figure out who I wronged to deserve treatment like this. I tried to get along with every one, my determination to do something with my tennis skills kept me occupied and not interacting with other students. If I wasn’t in classes I was on the court trying to perfect my skills.

Becky than asked me if I knew a Sheila, another loud groan left my mouth, so Becky pulled me to her and sat me down on a bench. I needed to get to class so I tried to leave, but Becky said forget the class we need to get to the bottom of this. The newspaper article has already made the rounds of almost everyone, the few not having picked up a copy given one by their friends. Essentially, you are the only topic at school today.

I told her Sheila was one of my first girlfriends at high school, we dated a couple of times but I didn’t feel anything with her, so I made excuses and we went our separate ways. I did hear from a few of her friends that she was upset because I dumped her, vowing to get even one day. I don’t remember me dumping her, I just ceased to be around her usual hangout spots, so we never saw each other much after that. The few times that Sheila tried to call me, I just ignored the calls.

Becky read me a passage again from the article shaking her head as she did so. Top tennis hopeful beaten by a female, Although still in the semi-finals because of past wins, this reporter suggests that she start dressing as a female, the likelihood of needing a male in her life now seems to be a sure thing. Some strong male to take care of her. With her long hair and a figure that suggests that a woman exists underneath, a much better approach to her career than as a tennis star. I know of several males that are interested, I can make a few suggestions if she can’t catch a suitable one by herself.

Becky then told me one of the things I had done wrong.

“You can’t leave a female like that, so I don’t blame her for her response. You should have talked it out suggesting that you still could be friends, but by just avoiding her she came to her own conclusions probably none of which were true. I have heard a few things about Sheila, if even part of them are true you have not heard the last of this, believe me.”

Becky did ask if I wanted to go shopping for my feminine wardrobe later at the mall, she would be glad to accompany me and make sure that I picked out things that would help attract a male, someone to take care of me. That statement followed by a severe exaggerated case of giggling.

If the initial story had been disastrous the follow ups that appeared for the next few weeks were so over the top that I started hating to show up for school. Then the petitions appeared for having the school change my gender status to female. That in itself could be over looked, but the number of students that signed them left me speechless. Surely the school would not act on the petition, it was just a bunch of people suggesting to the school that I should be classified in the female gender and not as a male.

Sheila caught me between classes on Friday, two weeks later, the smirk on her face ear to ear as she handed me a certificate for a full body makeover at a salon, along with the school paperwork granting my wish to be considered a female for the rest of my schooling. She calmly walked away, muttering that I didn’t need to thank her, it was the least she could do for a fellow female.

Oh gawd, what do I do now? I almost threw up, my nerves suddenly raw and tense. I ditched my last classes, with tears starting to form I made my way out to my car and then headed home.

Somehow I made it home, as soon as I cleared the door I made a frantic phone call to Becky, my only words to her were help. She told me she would be right over, as I put down the receiver, my mother cleared her throat behind me and I slumped in the nearest chair, my head in my hands and about to start sobbing.

I then noticed the pile of clothes that had been delivered to the house this morning. The clothing a result of her campaign for females to donate their unwanted clothing to me, so I could dress appropriately and catch my man, any man. It was suggested in the articles often that I needed all the help I could get, otherwise I will end up an old unmarried spinster.

I felt Mom’s arms around me, since she was sitting on the arm of the chair, the best she could do with how I was sitting. I cried and cried, not realizing how long the tears flowed. A second set of arms soon engulfed me, Becky now here for me. They pulled me to my feet and dragged me to a sofa, after moving all of my new wardrobe off to other chairs to make room for us. I was pulled tighter to them, and held tightly until I ran out of tears.

Becky was the first one to speak. You have some pretty clothes there, you are going to share with me aren’t you? I raised my head, staring at her. You have got to be kidding, my life is a disaster and you want to borrow one of my dresses. The crying started all over again, I had just referred to the pile of dresses as mine, surely the world has gone bonkers. Meanwhile Becky had been reading the school paperwork on my gender change. Her oh my god startled both Mom and me.

“Diane you have got bigger problems here, since you are officially a female, you have to adhere to the dress code for females, failure to do so will get you expelled from school. The note at the bottom of your gender change states since you have requested this change, the school will enforce the dress code to the full extent in your particular case.”

Attached to the gender change request was a copy of the dress code for females, parts of it highlighted. It seems parts of the dress code had not been enforced since it was enacted, but now all of these parts will suddenly apply to me. Surely things could not get worse than they were, but my karma was apparently setting at zero, as Becky read the highlighted dress code rules.

Dresses with hose and heels, although the heel height not to exceed three inches.

Hair styled properly for a young lady, no ponytails allowed.

Mascara and lipstick in cosmetics, pierced earrings although no more than one piercing in each ear.

Fingernails to be polished at all times, including toenails if exposed.

Ladylike behavior at all times except for Physical education class if enrolled.

I looked at Becky, the question I wanted answered written on my face. Sure enough on the copy of my changed schedule P.E. had been replaced with Home Ec.

A that moment the phone rang and Mom went to answer it. She returned a few moments later a huge smile on her face. In a calm and straight forward manner she mentioned that was Brad, wanting to know if Diane wanted to go out for ice cream tonight. This time when the name Diane was used I noticed. According to Becky my name in the school records has been changed to Diane, since my gender now is female. You can’t have a female named Dan, at least as far as the school is concerned.

Oh gawd no, I ran to my room and threw myself on my bed sobbing hysterically. Becky did find me there later, laying next to me and cuddling me tight to her. I fell asleep in her arms, waking later when I had to go to the bathroom. As I came back to the bedroom, Becky was sitting on the edge of the bed, a smirk on her face. “Well did you sit to pee like a good girl?”

I started to tear up but Becky grabbed a hold of my shoulders and shook me till I was facing her, her hands now holding my head so that I had to look in her eyes. “This is the world you are going to have to live in for awhile, so face the obvious facts and lets get on with life. She leaned in and planted an erotic kiss on my lips, then pulled back and took something out of her purse. I felt the lipstick on my lips as she carefully applied it. Then she leaned in again, her lips touching mine in anticipation. The kiss was so good, our lips sharing the lipstick intimately.

I have never felt anything so erotic in my life, as she tried to pull away I followed her lips wanting more. She gave in and attacked my lips once more. As she had to pull away to get another breath, her smirk had returned. “Well Miss Connely that was some kiss, I am not sure whether you will need a male to take care of you, but you just try and leave me. I guess I am now a lesbian, proud of it too. You are mine, every square inch of your soon to be feminine body is mine, all mine.

Her comment caused me to remember the gift certificate for the body makeover, digging in my notebook where I had placed it, I found it and showed it to Becky. She read what it entailed, then squealed in delight as she grabbed her cell phone and called the salon for an appointment. I reached for her phone, trying to take it away from her, not wanting anything to do with a body makeover. Becky evaded me running down the stairs and out on the patio.

I followed her but was way laid by my own Mother, holding me and keeping me from going out to her. I was hugged, and relaxed into the hug, all of this just too much for my feeble mind to handle. Tears sprouted again, gawd I am acting like a female already, crying like there is no tomorrow, but still dressed in male clothes and with no makeup on. Well, there was the lipstick, although it was more than slightly smeared.

Becky came back in, a huge smile on her face, then whispered something in my Mom’s ear, then grabbed my hand and led me out to her car. I tried to resist, but she easily got me into her car. Before I could get back out she was in the driver’s seat and was backing the car out of the driveway. I let out a huge sigh, and wilted in my seat. I guess there is no way I am going to avoid what is coming. Sheila has me cornered into this scenario, and Becky is having way too much fun seeing that I am transformed into her lesbian lover. I swear I will never play another game of tennis for the rest of my life, this last debacle pretty much ending any chance of me returning to a normal male life, much less a professional career in that sport.

Becky stopped the car right outside the salon door, ran around to help me out of the car and dragged me inside. I had pretty much given up trying to resist, trapped in so many ways, maybe things will turn out alright after all.

Gawd I am now delusional too, I am sure things will get only worse, my trip down the slippery slope now gaining speed. Becky made me follow the technician to where she will perform my makeover, helped me get undressed, then kissed me, grabbed my clothes and told me to be good.

“I will be back later Miss Connelly to get you home and seen to.”

With that she was out the door, my one chance to escape now gone. I am sure I will not make it far naked and without any ID or money. Another large sigh, I wonder if I will ever be able to return to my old life, at the moment that seems very unlikely.

I was helped up onto a table, then coated in a cream that will remove all of my body hair. Junior was included, even though he gets excited when a cream is rubbed on him, today there was no reaction what so ever. I think he realized like myself that his existence is very limited. Once the front side was denuded I was turned over and the back side received the same treatment. I just laid there, each step toward being a female in looks seeming to be unavoidable.

My feet were placed in stirrups, and spread wide as junior was glued to my groin, then covered with a very realistic looking vagina. Just like that I was no longer a member of the male gender. A single tear ran down my cheek, and another sigh escaped my mouth. Now a very feminine slit framed by two puffy lips resided where once I had a male organ. I guess Becky’s new lesbian lover is here to stay.

My lack of breasts were addressed next, a machine was wheeled in and two cups were glued to my chest right above my nipples. Hoses were hooked up to the cups and the machine was turned on, as some of my tissue slipped into the cups as a result of the suction of the pump. I doubted breasts created that way would go away easily, so my sentence as a female now seems long term.

My hair washed and conditioned then put in curlers. While my hair was drying my nails were worked on, ten long elegant nails coated in a pale pink polish was the end result. Of course, toenails to match.

Makeup next, nothing spared as my facial image was now feminine. Ears pierced, then a pair of earrings inserted in the holes.

The machine that was sucking breasts from my chest finally turned off leaving two significant titties on my chest. It had taken the pump six hours to form my breasts, realistic, and overly active. I shook my head, this had got to be some weird dream, but my new appendages bobbing up and down as I tried to breathe kind of proved that it is not a dream, but reality in spades.

Next came the clothes, bra, panties, a slip and a gorgeous dress, again in a pale pink. My hair was removed from the curlers and lightly brushed, a cute pixie style the result. The image in front of me in the mirror was all female, now with a female name and my school records showing me as a member of the female gender, my future seems set in stone.

Before I could break down in tears again Becky showed up, collected me and dragged me to her car. Seven hours after she had dropped me off she now had her lesbian lover and she was determined to take advantage of it. I must add that the seven hours at the salon seemed to be an eternity, as my mind tried to cope with everything and obviously failing to do so. At least I think the worse is over, surely they can’t do much more to me now than what has already been done.

Famous last words as we headed toward school. According to the paperwork attached to the gender change I had to stop in at the office and have a new picture taken for my school ID. Becky did go in with me, I think she was eager to see what else Sheila might come up with, although she was happy so far with the results. I got the picture taken, then when I was handed my student ID I looked at it noticing that I was now classified as a Freshman, not the Sophomore I actually was. I asked the secretary to correct the mistake, she just smiled then showed me my records.

On my records I was a year younger and enrolled as a freshman, all of my classes now female oriented, my physical education classes which allowed me to play tennis missing from my records completely. Instead of PE I now had Home Ec., and several classes in presenting as a female, where they focused on deportment, beauty tips, and dressing for success.

These classes were offered as part of their vocational program for the female that was having trouble with normal classes, so at least they would have some training in surviving in the world after graduation. In other words for the females that were lacking in intelligence but needing something to help in finding someone to take care of them.

According to the secretary it was too late to transfer to a different class, I would be stuck with these classes until the semester break. A huge sigh escaped my lips, and we left the office. Sheila has sure done a job on me, my whole life now confused and frankly an utter disaster.

As Becky helped me to the cafeteria, we passed several signs asking for the students to vote for me for Homecoming Queen. Becky snickered as I finally saw them, assuring me she would vote for me to be the Homecoming Queen. As far as she was concerned there was not a prettier female on campus. She had to take me into the female bathroom as I broke down sobbing and muttering why me over and over again.

Becky got me the rest of the way to the cafeteria eventually, as the crying eased up some. She got me a plate of food, but I had lost my appetite, just pushing the food around on the plate while staring off in the distance. Several of my classmates came up to me, assuring me they would vote for me for Homecoming Queen, but wanted a dance with me in exchange. Becky handled them for me, I was about to enter into another sobbing fit, my mind so confused, not a single rational thought able to emerge from it at the moment.

The plan to attend a class or two today was scraped, since I was in no condition to handle things. I was taken home, enough had happened today to renew my distressed mental state.

I did attend my new classes the next morning, just staring into oblivion as the teacher droned on. Becky met me after my last class, taking me to her car and then home. Mom met us at the door, her look very serious and concerned. I was hugged hard, then she took me into the living room and sat me on the couch. Her on one side of me and Becky on the other, each holding one of my hands. I swallowed hard, apparently more bad news about to be divulged to me.

I apparently have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, my doctor for my sex change having an opening when someone else canceled at the last moment. I was overdue for my hormone shot, and testosterone blocker shot. She wanted me to come dressed as a female, so she could evaluate my presentation, that way if I looked like a passable female she could schedule my SRS for me. Mom thought I should go, not to receive the shots but to be seen by a physician and evaluated on my mental state.

I got up from the couch, walked to my room and collapsed on the bed. I had cried so much there was not any water left for more tears. I closed my eyes and soon was asleep. When I awoke I had to go to the bathroom, the need to pee quite urgent. That in itself a very eye opening experience. I was lost at first, not comfortable using the bathroom as a female. I had done it once earlier today, but had blocked that experience form my mind.

For the rest of the evening I was just there, very little brain activity and even less physical actions or movement. Becky decided I had wallowed enough in my troubles and dragged me out of bed and downstairs. Mom was there along with another lady, who I found out was my doctor for my gender re-assignment. She explained what she knew, feeling that the info she had been given was too good to be true. She had called Mom and they had talked about what had happened so far.

She decided she needed to talk to me and find out what is happening. She had me go through everything that has happened so far, so I did with Becky filling in on a few things that I had forgotten or misquoted. Dr. Phillips did know Sheila, a patient of hers for a while. The doctor had Becky and Mom leave us as she wanted to talk to me alone for a while. Over an hour later they were called back and she explained her thoughts on my condition and what I could do to minimize any further attacks on my masculinity.

According to her my breasts and vagina would be with me for several months before they could be removed. She suggested that I continue with my classes as a female while she checked into my demotion to a freshman and my loss of one years credit in classes that I had taken last year. As far as anybody else is concerned she wanted me to show enthusiasm for my supposed SRS coming up and embrace my nomination for Homecoming Queen. In the meantime she will check with Sheila’s parents as to her behavior and actions recently. In the past she had met them and they were instrumental in her prior treatment of Sheila. She would not tell us anymore or her reason for treating Sheila in the past.

I felt a little better, the cannonball express regarding my gender seemed to be slowing somewhat, a welcome relief. The next few days were weird but livable with, the amount of support that I had seemed to gather for Homecoming Queen was absurd. I stayed out of school on the afternoon of my supposed appointment for my SRS interview and booster shot. I did see Sheila observing me the next morning, so I played it up a little rubbing my behind after trying to sit at my desk.

A few days later, I was approached by one of the jocks, who stammered a little, then in a barely audible voice asked if he could take me to the Homecoming dance. His name was Chad, a starting halfback on the football team. I asked him if he is aware of my true gender, not wanting him to be embarrassed later. He smiled yes I know you were a male, but you look so beautiful and act so much like a female I find that hard to believe.

I figured I would have to go to the dance, Becky and I as a couple would be frowned on by the school administration, so why not. He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek as he thanked me for going with him and skipped off a huge smile plastered on his face.

In truth, I was becoming too comfortable in this female persona, the dresses too hard to pass up and the makeup, underwear and heels almost automatic when I dressed every day. When I had a few moments for myself I was thinking of life after school, a possible spouse to take care of and love, who in return would see to my loving and happiness. Not a normal line of thought for a male. I was still not sure whether that spouse would be male or female, both Becky and Chad giving me goose pimples when I was around them.

I did get elected Homecoming Queen, with over ninety percent of the student body voting for me. Chad was a true gentleman, treating me like I was something special. I made sure he was rewarded for his efforts, the kisses he received after the dance long and erotic. I was affected too, having to cut the reward session short as I was getting too excited myself.

Becky had watched after me at the dance, when we got to my house later I was the recipient of many more kisses and considerable groping. Eventually we fell asleep in each others arms, cuddled tightly together. I think she just wanted to reassert her ownership of me as a lesbian, making sure I knew who owned me lock stock and barrel.

I never did go back to being a male, and ended up experiencing two years as a sophomore but in female related classes. I did graduate in the top ten of my class, Becky just one notch above me.

When I graduated high school, Becky and I were more than a couple, deciding to get married as soon as we could obtain a license. Luckily for us our state allowed same sex marriages. Even though I was a male underneath, all of my records showed me as a natural born female. It was a small ceremony, just us and our Moms.

Sheila was committed to a mental health facility shortly after the homecoming dance and as of our last inquiry she was still there. I wish her no ill, for she was solely responsible for the avalanche that resulted in my living my remaining years as a female.

I never did play another game of tennis, my life as a female more than enough to keep me occupied and content. I did eventually have my male organ removed, Becky and I both preferring sex as two females. I have the love of a caring and loving partner and someone to take care of and love in return.

The avalanche that consumed me that year, is looked back on fondly, a time for me to experience so many different things in life. A time for me to mature as a female, the gender I should have been all along.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca Walker

 

Marcy: New Life, New Gender

Marcy: New Life, New Gender

I am a son of a state department diplomat. Dad has served for fifteen years as an ambassador, the locations changing often. Usually he is assigned to a country for only two to three years. If the country in question was in strife, sometimes those appointments only lasted for a couple of months. His last two assignments were in doubtful countries, the current government still in charge, but suffering greatly due to rebels or influence from other unfriendly countries. Because of this I was unable to go with him, confined to the states.

Due to the fact that my parents had separated several years ago, Dad had hired a governess for me. I remember very little of my Mom, she was a loving individual, concerned about her children and always on the watch for their safety. According to Dad that was the reason for their separation. She wanted the children with her and not at one of his embassy posts. It was argued, but nothing resolved. Shortly thereafter they separated. They never did get a divorce, the reason never given to any of their children. Mom got the two daughters in the separation and I stayed with my Dad. Because of the distance between Mom and Dad and the stability of where he served, the kids never got to see their siblings. There were letters exchanged and of course pictures but that was it for communication between members of the family

He kept his original home here in the states, planning to return there after he retired from the state department. When the country he was assigned to became too dangerous for me, the governess and I would return here to live in his home until he was given a friendlier assignment.

Maggie, the governess, and I got along well, essentially she was the mother I never knew. Her title was governess, but she was much more than that. She helped me with school, cooked my meals the majority of the time and was a companion since in most of his assignments I was not allowed to leave the embassy compound. For schooling I had teachers hired by the state department to come in and oversee my studies. It was a lonely life, but Maggie saw to it that I was never bored. She spoke many languages, so in times of boredom she taught me how to speak and write in most of them. I now can communicate in French, Italian, Russian, Spanish, Japanese and several dialects of Chinese.

I did well in my studies as reflected in an aptitude test given me each year, a way for the state department to see if the children of their diplomats had mastered the basics for their grade level. I always came out near the top of the group, a fact that Maggie made sure of.

We had been back home for a couple of weeks, when returning from registering me for school a black SUV pulled alongside us. We were heading back to the car and only had a few more steps to go to reach it. Two guys jumped from the SUV one grabbing Maggie and the other me. I bit the guys hand that was holding me, he eased his grip on me and I reached back with my foot and tried to trip him. He was confused and trying to keep from falling, allowing me to get free. Maggie was struggling against the other guy, both of them facing the other direction. I ran over to them tapped him on the shoulder, then ducked down low as he tried to turn to see who it was. Maggie managed to slip from his grasp some, now he only held her one wrist. I used my best Kung Fu kick, aimed at his groin, as he instantly let go of Maggie and grabbed his balls. I pushed Maggie away and was about to follow her when the other guy grabbed me from behind, shoving a needle into my neck. The last thing I saw was Maggie sprinting away, before I faded into darkness.

I woke up later, tied to a chair, with a hood over my head. I presume I was now a hostage for some radical group wanting something from our government. Both Maggie and I had some training in what to do in this case, but training and reacting to the real thing are miles apart. I hope at least, she managed to get away. Not hearing her near me was probably a good sign.

It seemed like days had gone by, I was fed very little and never allowed to go to the bathroom. I ended up peeing in my clothes, and then having to sit in them for hours. They eventually stripped off my clothes leaving me naked, my soaked male clothes thrown in the garbage can. I was not bound back to the chair, but left on a bed, hands tied behind my back and ankles tied together. I was left able to speak, told to tell them when I had to use the bathroom. The first time I had to use the bathroom I was jerked out of bed, sat on the toilet, then secured there until I had used the bathroom. Afterwards, I was thrown back into bed, with my ankles tied to the bed frame.

I had almost given up hope, no telling where I was, probably hundreds of miles from where I was kidnapped. It would be a miracle if they somehow found me. Each minute seemed like an hour, day and night having no meaning since there was no windows in the room where I was being kept. I would drift off to a restless sleep, then wake suddenly sweating and about to throw up. On one of these sudden awakenings I heard a lot of noise from the other room, then some gunfire. I just laid there unable to move, not knowing what was going on.

Then I heard a comforting voice, the sweetest voice I knew. It was Maggie, as she stormed into the room almost tearing the door off its hinges. She ran to me picking me up and cuddling my upper body close to her. Then a few comical words came from her mouth. “Boy you sure stink.” I was photographed where I lay in bed from all angles, then stood and more photos were taken. Then one of the people that rescued me came in picked me up and carried me out to a waiting car. Maggie got in next to me and the driver pulled away.

I motioned to Maggie about my ropes, she just smiled telling me to be patient, a few things still had to be done to insure my safety. I was laid over where my head was on her lap and I dozed off, waking later when we arrived at a hospital. I was removed from the car put on a gurney and wheeled into the E.R. with doctors and nurses accompanying the gurney. My hands were freed, but my ankles were left secured. I was inspected from head to toe, then given a shot that stopped all physical activity. Maggie appeared briefly, holding me and whispering for me to stay calm, a few more hours and I will be safe.

I felt my heartbeat, but could not move anything including my eyelids to see what was happening. A sheet was placed over me, I could feel the fabric as it settled on my face. Oh gawd I am dead was my thought, then I lost consciousness. I felt my body being placed in something and some movement then nothing. It was a while later when my mind told me I had been placed in a drawer in the morgue, I wanted to scream I was not dead, but absolutely nothing emerged from my mouth. I still could not move anything to let them know I was still alive. All I could faintly feel was the white sheet above my face.

Rescued from the kidnappers and now presumed dead, laying in a morgue. I couldn’t figure out if I was dead why my mind was still functioning or was it just a dream I was having. But then dead people don’t dream do they. It seemed like forever before I felt movement on whatever I was lying in. Then a different kind of movement, followed by another. Maybe a ride in a vehicle, all of this happening and my mind trying to figure out what was being done and where I was being taken to. Then quiet and finally some more voices, I think one of them was Maggie. I felt another shot being given to me, the liquid burning somewhat as it entered my bloodstream.

Then my eyes focused and right in front of my face is Maggie. I closed my eyes then opened them again wanting to make sure this was not a dream. Maggie looked different, her voice really the only thing I recognized. Her hair was now brunette, and her face looked a little different, her lips were fuller, and as she leaned over to kiss me on the forehead, they felt quite different. Her same comment about me stinking, followed by her cute giggle as she told me to lay still until my body regained control of my muscles. She held my hand tightly, giving it a squeeze now and then to make sure I stayed awake.

Finally I was helped out of the box like structure I was lying on, shocked to see it was a casket. I was barely standing, Maggie holding on to me as I tried to find my footing and get my legs to support me. I was eased over to a bathroom, and slipped into a tub of sweet smelling water. I didn’t realize I had been naked in the casket until I slipped into the bubbles. Maggie leaned over the edge of the tub and thoroughly washed every inch of my body. I started to ask her a question, she just put her finger to my lips telling me to wait until later, when all will be explained to me. I closed my eyes taking in the fragrance wafting up from the tub. I dosed off from time to time, Maggie scrubbing me hard helped my eyes to pop open every once in a while.

Dried and helped into the bedroom where I was dressed in a nightie, a most feminine item that seemed to engulf my whole body. It did feel nice against my sensitive skin, as I looked at my arms there was no hair there, now soft and bare as a baby’s bottom. I presume the rest of my body was now hairless since the feeling of the nightie on my skin was so erotic. So many questions to ask, but maybe I needed to be just thankful I was alive somehow. The fact that Maggie had escaped somehow also quite a blessing. Now clean and with something on I was taken to the front room and seated on the couch. Maggie sat right next to me, my hand in her lap being held tightly.

“I managed to run away before they could track me down, finding an open door to slip into. I heard them walking by several times looking for me, so I stayed quiet and motionless. After a little while I heard no more noise or voices so I pulled out my cell phone and called the police, then the state department. Within ten minutes there were police here to get me. When we looked for you there was no sign of you. A half hour later the FBI showed up and took over the hunt for you. Both of us have had chips implanted in us so that we could be tracked. It was a day later when the scope of the hunt got out far enough for your chip to be identified. They had taken you into the next state, to a rural farm house about forty miles out of a major city.”

“The FBI of course raided the place, ending up killing most of your abductors. They were hard core and were not going to give up, no matter the circumstances. They have not been connected to a group yet, nothing on their person or in the farmhouse giving any indication of who is behind this.”

“You were given a shot in the hospital to stop any physical movement of your body. What the shot did was to slow any movement down to the point that it seemed that you had died. You were placed in a casket and in the morgue for a few hours before you were taken to a funeral home, then the casket was slipped out of the funeral home and brought to this house. All of this to make people think you were dead. We know that your body was checked in the morgue, a hidden camera capturing the image of the one interested in your body. After we find out who he shared this information with we will see to his disappearance.”

“Now for the part you might not care for. As of this moment you are now a member of the female sex and my daughter. I prefer Mommy to Mom and will take care of you the same as I have done before. They have made quite a few changes in my looks, you will experience all of that and more. I have insisted that you be gorgeous and quite the girly gurl. You don’t have to thank me, the least a Mommy can do for her only daughter. Once I get you looking like a daughter I will fill you in on the proper behavior and other things a young female needs to be aware of. I don’t want you asking to date boys for awhile, maybe wait for at least a few weeks.”

I just stared at her, mouth open, I had heard what she said, but none of it had made it through to my brain yet. A few words were stuck somewhere in between, female, girly gurl, dating boys. She saw the look of terror on my face, pulling me closer to her and hugging me hard. I am not sure if I fainted, or if I fell asleep because I had no idea how to deal with any of this. Either way I was out of it. I became aware of someone running their fingers through my hair, I moaned a little since it felt so good. Maggie helped me up and dragged me to the kitchen where there was some food spread out on a table. Another lady, apparently the source of said food, asking what I wanted to drink. I looked around, then said anything will do, I am so parched and starving. A cup of warm tea was placed in front of me, my favorite. I looked at all of the different dishes on the table deciding to have a little of each. Maggie told me to eat slowly and take small bites allowing your stomach to get used to food in it again.

It was an hour later when I was literally dragged away from the table. Maggie giggling away. I had my fork still in my hand, trying to spear a hot dog before it was out of reach. Maggie assured me we could come back later if needed. Up to my room, then sat in front of a large computer screen. Maggie entered a code and shortly my Dad came into view on the screen. He had been crying, tears still running down his cheeks. I told him I was okay, Maggie had seen to my rescue and care. I told him I loved him, and would wait anxiously for the chance to hug him. He addressed Maggie telling her that the plan they had worked out was fine with him, but then faced me telling me that any face to face contact was out of the question for awhile. He made me promise to do what Maggie wanted, no matter what I thought of the request. I know some of what they will do to you is unusual but your safety is the ultimate concern here.

We will get together soon, but it will not be as Mark and his Father. Marcy is your new name, and you are now a young female, a daughter to Ginger, your Mother. It will be the spur of the moment meeting, when we feel that all parties are safe. Now behave and do as your Mother says and I will see you soon hopefully. The screen faded to black and the skype session was over. I hugged Ginger hard, my tears now matching the tears on my Father’s face.

I was led to my bedroom, and tucked in. I had a million questions yet, but a kiss on the forehead and I was soon asleep. The next morning I was dragged from my bed, my mommy Ginger giggling away. Time for my daughter to become a young woman, so slip on the sweats and we will be off. Ginger helped me slip on the pink sweat top, then the matching bottom. She brushed my hair a little before leading me outside to a waiting car. I noticed a guard just outside the house we had been staying in, another one driving the car. I presume there will be no more attempts on our lives and the perpetrators still living. We drove for hours, it seemed like, finally pulling up in front of a large beauty salon. I looked at the size of the place and tried to swallow whatever was now suddenly stuck in my throat. I quick look at Ginger, her smirk now ear to ear.

Ginger helped me inside and we were taken to the back immediately. I was helped in removing my clothes, although I would have preferred to keep them on till I knew what was going to happen to me. Ginger gave me a hug, telling, me to do as they say, while she gets a few more changes to alter her appearance. I was helped up on a table and several ladies went to work on me. I closed my eyes, something I always did when I didn’t want to face what was happening, hoping that the changes will not be that drastic. I apparently dozed off, my bodies reaction to what was happening to me and the stress of the last few days was too much to handle, thus everything just shut down for a while. When someone kissed me on my ear, I suddenly woke up, Ginger’s smiling face staring at me. She knows getting kissed on the ear bothers me immensely, so she often does it to let me know she is there.

I tried to say something but I found my voice strained and weak. Ginger just held me closer telling me to be quiet, all will be explained soon. I did get a glance in a mirror behind Ginger, seeing a cute blonde girl that looked about my age. I wonder who she is, maybe she will be living with Ginger and I now. I did not connect that the young girl was being held in Ginger’s arms, the same as I was being held.

I finally did get a closer look at the cute girl next to Ginger, when it turned out to be me I was astounded. Ginger quickly hugged me tightly, while my mind tried to process what it had just seen. I was undoubtedly a female now, hair, makeup, clothes and most importantly a female figure to tie it all together. They touched up my appearance and then Ginger and I left, both of us in skirts and tops, matching of course. I heard the clicking of my heels before I became aware of wearing them, my walk now much different than before.

Another car, this time with a female driver and we were headed to a destination unknown. It turned out to be a house right next to Dad’s, similar in size but a little farther off the road. We were dropped off and Ginger led me inside. I was taken to my room, shown my bed, Ginger helping me to slip into another delicious nightie, then she brushed my hair while I was fighting to stay awake. I lost the fight, as I dozed off, a kiss from my Mommy the last thing I remembered.

I set up in bed, the dream I had most disturbing. It was a different bed than what I remembered and I was in a female nightgown. I looked around then a voice from a monitor on the nightstand told me to lay back down and she will be right up. The voice seemed familiar so I laid back down, my eyes closing as I did so. Then something wet on my ear and I instantly was wide awake, Mommy smiling and giggling as I tried to focus again.

“You have had plenty of time to catch up on your sleep, so get out of bed and use the bathroom, I need to get you looking like my daughter, a nightie all the time is just so uncool.”

As I returned from the bathroom Mommy helped me slip off the nightie, then picked up a bra from my bed. I looked over to see my bed covered with girl’s clothes, all of them now apparently belonging to me. That much I do remember. I was shown how to put the bra on, noticing for the first time that I indeed had small breasts. As my breasts slipped into the cups of the bra I felt the nipples stiffen, a totally new sensation for me. Then came a pair of panties, the silkiness as they were pulled up my legs not to be ignored.

At the time, I hadn’t realized that my male organ was no longer, a slit framed by two puffy lips the only thing between my legs. Even peeing I hadn’t realized the change down below. Using the bathroom a few minutes ago, I had set on the toilet, the pee leaving my body in a torrent. I wiped with toilet paper, never realizing that there was no penis to shake like I was used to.

Then a dress, my first one and oh so cute. I know a boy referring to his dress as cute. I realized right then that the boy in me had vanished, Marcy was the person now in my body. I love the clothes, but best of all I love being Mommy’s daughter.

I got a super hug to go with the clothes, my feminine being just melting into the embrace. Then I was put to work, so much to learn and unlearn. From how to walk to how to sit and a million other things. Ginger is serious in this, never allowing me to slack off or do anything haphazardly. I had one choice, do it right or do it again and again until I did manage to do it right. A week later we were still fine tuning my movements when we received a phone call. Ginger answered it then looking at me just smiled. They talked for a while then she hung up. We stopped what we were doing, changed clothes then the car and our driver appeared. Off to the mall, apparently looking for some fancy dresses. I was made to try on zillions of them before she found one she liked on me.

Of course, I had to have more lingerie, something to match the cute dress she had picked out for me. Just looking at the bra in her hands made me blush, see thru lace and scandalously small. It did fit me perfectly, my breasts slipping into the cups with ease. The panties also fitted well, a perfect match to the lacy bra. A slip made of the same silky fabric, then the dress next. I was turned so I could see the image in the mirror, my mouth dropping open in surprise. Ginger stood next to me, our images seemed like a mother and daughter getting ready to go out. I was given a purse, after slipping my feet in the heels that were furnished. Then Ginger grabbed my hand and led me out of the mall.

A short ride to a business, this time a photographer’s studio. I was led inside and after talking to the lady photographer for a few minutes I was taken over to a furniture grouping and situated in one of the chairs. Lots of pictures were taken then Ginger joined me and many more were snapped. The photographer had to put another disc in her digital camera so there was a small break from taking the pictures.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looking to see who it was saw the face of my Dad. I jumped up and attacked him, hanging on his neck with all of my being. He pulled me closer to him then dragged me over to Ginger. He drew her into the embrace not letting her withdraw. After awhile he helped us into the chairs, then still holding mine and Ginger’s hand told us things are going to change again. I looked at him waiting for an explanation, but a quick glance at Ginger told me she already knew of the changes, her typical Ginger smirk was displayed for anyone to view. The explanation never materialized, Ginger and my Dad whispering to each other, but the nature of the changes and where we would live were never shared with me. I hung on to one or the other as tight as I could, not wanting to be separated again from either of them.

The lady photographer returned taking a bunch of pictures of the three of us, a family portrait, at least that is what I hoped it would become. Ginger and Dad shared a passionate kiss, and I received a tender hug from him before he slipped out of the studio.

After the photo session, Ginger and I did some more shopping, then ate a snack in one of the better restaurants at the mall. When we left a different car was there to pick us up, and we headed off in a different direction then when we arrived earlier. I tried to stare Ginger down several times, wanting some information on what was to become of me and where we would live. I was pretty sure Ginger and I would remain together, but was hoping that maybe Dad could find a way to be with us permanently.

When we arrived back at the house we were staying at, I looked confused, not realizing that the driver had taken the long way back. Instead of stopping there, we drove to Dad’s old house, a half mile away. As we pulled up outside I didn’t recognize the place. The house had quite a bit of work done on it, the front now looking totally different. The house was painted a different color, and after thinking about it for a minute we had pulled up to the house from a different street. The landscape looked different, quite a few more trees and shrubs now surrounded the house, the look totally different from before.

The driver pulled up to the old garage, then after activating a remote the garage door opened and we pulled inside. Once inside the door we descended into a basement and parked next to a set of stairs. Ginger helped me out and we made our way up the stairs. Through several metal doors, then entering the foyer, it still looked much like it was before. My head was swiveling around trying to see what all had changed.

Since we had spent most of the day at the mall, and the photographers it was apparently time for a bath again and shortly after that bed. I wanted to stay up, but several yawns later I gave up. The bath was relaxing, I now smelled like a field of flowers, I might add a fragrance I enjoyed. Tucked into bed, Ginger laying next to me holding me tightly until I dozed off. I tried several times to ask some of my unanswered questions, but the questions never made it to my mouth, just a few scattered words and lots of yawns. My voice was settling down some, a feminine voice but still a little husky. It will defiantly require getting used to. On that thought my eyes closed and I was off to dreamland.

I was enrolled in classes online, my schooling to be accomplished while I am at home. I presume another security measure. Ginger and I did go out shopping from time to time, according to her a necessity for me since I was still not exhibiting the girly girl look she wished for me. I was acting like the female I now looked like, my mannerisms quite refined and my movements well in line with those of a young female.

I thought of my Dad often, he was never far from my thoughts and wishes. Then a week later, Ginger told me that we will be having a house guest, come next Monday. A close friend of hers will be coming for a short stay, maybe a month, maybe more. I was to be on my best behavior, and treat the lady with respect. We drove to the airport to meet her plane, and then chit chatted on the way back to the house. The lady looked slightly familiar, but I could not place where I had seen her before. We stopped at one of the fancier restaurants for dinner since it was so late, then on to the house. Once we were inside I was sent to change out of my fancy dress, then come back and we will talk some more and maybe have some hot chocolate. I liked her but didn’t think we would need to talk some more since we probably have already covered everything in her life and ours.

When I entered the living room I stopped quickly, Ginger and her were locked in a passionate kiss, and believe me it was passionate, maybe even hot. I stood there for a few minutes then the light came on upstairs and I ran over to them and squeezed myself in between them trying to get a hug, a kiss or whatever I could from either of them. The lady is my Dad, apparently he has been changed like me, now a member of the female sex. So now I have two Moms, a young lady can never have too many Moms, especially when I start dating boys.

I did get hugged and kissed often, sitting on my other Mom’s lap the rest of the evening. Ginger snuggled up next to both of us. It felt so good, a family at last and hopefully one for the rest of my life.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca