This story describes the sexual activities of someone below the age of consent. If the subject offends you, or if that's what you are, don't read it. Comment is always welcome. Girl Time By Vickie Tern "It's getting near to 4:00 o'clock, Allie honey! Shouldn't you be changing?" "Sure, Mom, I just wanna finish this Battlestar's ...." "I think you'd better put that computer game away until tomorrow, sweetheart. That's enough alien-zapping for one day. Jane's coming over soon to see your new dresses, the ones Aunt Beth bought for you. Don't you want to show them to her?" "Yes, of course Mom, I'd love for her to see them. She always has such good ideas about actses...ack...." "'Accessorizing.' It's an important word, honey, for a girl who wants to look nice." "Yes. 'Ac-cess-or-izing.' How to make whatever I'm wearing look better by adding belts and scarves and things." "Exactly. Well, do you want Jane to see you in pants? She won't like being reminded you're a boy, you know. She still remembers what you were like when your father lived here. I don't need to remind you of that now, do I?" "No, Mom." "Then let's call your boy time over for today. You'd better get on upstairs and change. Remember to take your girl time pills." "OK, sure. Uh, Mom?" "Yes, honey?" "Those new girl time pills Dr. Diana gave me a couple of weeks ago? The big purple ones and the little white ones?" "Mmmm?" The purple ones make me feel a little nauseous right after I take them. And the little white ones always make me feel strange, sometimes all the way through into the next day." "How strange?" "You know. Kind of mellow. So I smile a lot when there's nothing funny happening. And I sort of forget things. Like the other night, when Jim and I went to the movies? We were talking about football, and I couldn't even remember how far away you have to be to kick for the extra point." "That's because girls don't need to know things like that, honey. They need to know other things, like how to style their hair. I notice that some mornings when it's boy time and you're getting ready to go to school you scarcely remember that you own a comb. Do other boys really wear their long hair so ratty-looking in school these days?" "Yes. It's what's cool." "You look so much more attractive when it's set in soft waves." "That's how girls wear their hair, Mom. I do that when I'm in girl time. When Jim and I go somewhere I do it that way. He likes me like that." "Well, maybe you should try to look like that more often." "Mom, I can't. Not when I'm being a boy. The kids razz me enough now as it is! I mean, like last week when I wore lipstick and eye shadow to school? I almost got beat up, except for some girls who came along and made them stop! All this year, everywhere I go someone is always calling me a faggot or a sissy!" "Of course, dear. Because you are a sissy! That's how it is when you aren't a real girl. You could have checked in the mirror that morning, and scrubbed your face better, you know. If you didn't, could it be because you like the way you look when you're wearing lipstick and eye shadow? If so that's just fine! I do too!" "I do like the way they look, Mom. But not when I'm in boy time. I just plain forgot they were there. Like I say, I'm forgetting lots of things these days, not just football. When we were sitting in the movies last weekend and Jim wanted me to reach into his fly and jerk him off, I even forgot that boys' panties have slots in them so they can reach in when they pee. I tried to find his dingle by feeling for it from above his waist band, like with my own." "Well, that's understandable, Allie. You've been wearing girls' panties for quite a while now, ever since you agreed they're prettier and feel nicer than your old underpants. And memory is selective. When you're being a girl with a handsome boy like Jim you tend to think and feel like a girl, so you remember like a girl. That's how people are. I'll bet when you're being a boy you don't remember which of your skirts button on the side and which in back. Or what shade of lipstick you wore when you were last out with Jim. Or how it felt to kiss him. I'll bet not even what his cum tastes like." "Oh no, I remember those things, Mom, sort of. They're important! But I've only sucked Jim off once, so I can't be sure if he always tastes like that." "Only once? What in the world do you do, all that time you spend together? Did you like it that once?" "Yes. I took another of those new white pills like you suggested, and it made me feel sort of happy woozy, sliding my mouth up and down his dingle, and licking and sucking it until it squirted. It was really nice! Especially when I got all his cum swallowed down snug in my tummy. And it was fun, too! He got so excited!" "You see? That's why Dr. Diana prescribed those little white ones. They help your disposition. Dr. Diana said they'd help you overcome any edginess you might still feel about pleasing boys. That they'd make you feel more compliant, less naturally feisty the way boys are with each other, less competitive. The way a girl should feel with boys if she wants to be popular." "Well, the white ones aren't too bad I guess. It's the big purple ones that make me feel really sick for hours. Can't I go back to the little purple ones?" "I'm afraid not, honey. Dr. Diana mentioned that they might upset your system at first. Wait it out. They are triple strength, after all. None of the girls in your class have anything like that concentration of hormones in their blood streams. I'm sure you've noticed that they're all blossoming and plumping out and softening too, the same as you are. Well, they're lucky, they make their own hormones. They're becoming women from inside themselves, without pills. Boys need pills to become women." "Heather and Florrie are already getting real smooth like that. We cuddle sometimes during our sleepovers. They're already softer than I am." "Yes. You're a little underdeveloped for your age. That's why we've started you on the big pills. If you don't take the big purple pills starting now you'll grow hair on your chest instead of boobies, maybe even on your face too. That would look very odd when it's your girl time and you're wearing a low- necked blouse. You need boobies! You are a teenager now, after all. From now on blouses and dresses suitable for your age group won't fit you properly if you don't have boobies. You do want to look pretty, don't you?" "Yes, Mom, of course I do. But not when I'm being a boy. When it's boy time, shouldn't I look like a boy? Boys don't have boobies!" "Well, honey, you can't have it both ways. You're a boy with small boobies who'll have big ones pretty soon now. You should have thought all that through a few years ago when your father and I first separated. You did tell the judge that you'd rather live with me, didn't you? And I set certain conditions, and the judge approved them, and you agreed to them?" "I guess I did." "Well, the issue then was perfectly clear. You were being bullied in school because you're a frail boy, and your father was bullying you into fighting back, into becoming a bully yourself. So you were getting quite raucous and mean-spirited around the house. Disrespectful to me and your aunts, because we were 'only girls,' that's what you said once, remember? And you struck a little girl on the next block 'to teach her a lesson,' you said? Which was why I sent you to school wearing pink nail polish, to teach you to keep your hands to yourself?" "I remember, Mom. Some of the bigger boys really started to punch me that day, when they realized I didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets. Then when I finally took them out to protect my face there was no stopping them!" "Your father told the court I was turning you into a sissy instead of a man. He said it was just to spite him, because I'd always wanted a girl, not a boy, and I couldn't have a girl because I'd already ... arranged my body not to have any more children. So I could feel free to ... do other things he also didn't like. Anyhow, he told the judge that what you needed was discipline and he was going to send you to a military school where they'd make a man of you. And that frightened you, and you started to cry, and you told the judge you wanted to live with me and go to an ordinary school even though everyone teases you for being a cry baby." "I was afraid the boys in a military school would kill me." "I know. They might have, too. So I promised the judge I'd teach you how to cope with schoolyard bullies, and he was pleased with that, so he agreed to let me teach you other ways to deal with problems too, gentler ways. How to feel empathy for people, and especially to understand how girls feel when boys bully them. How girls feel about lots of things. Because girls don't find it necessary to beat up on each other the way boys do. They relate differently! And I don't want you to grow up mean, the way your father could be sometimes." "Mom, you never taught me how to cope. You replaced my lunch money whenever big guys took it from me, sure, because you said I shouldn't resist them, I'd only get hurt. All you told me to do was scream and run away whenever they threatened me, or hide behind groups of girls. And always to tattle on whoever's being nasty, and always to tell them that's what I'm going to do. Because that's what girls do when boys bother them. But mom, when boys do those things it only makes matters worse. Then they really are out to get you!" "I've been evenhanded I think, Allie. Your Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth and I worked it out so you got equal time for each. Boy time and girl time, time to cope with your boy problems at school and time to understand how girls cope. Twelve hours each day for each, learning how to survive as a boy in a boy's world, and then as girls do it. And the judge did approve!" "It's never been equal time, Mom! I'm a boy from four in the morning until four in the afternoon. So the first hours I'm asleep and the rest of the time I'm in school, where the boys lean on me because I'm not like them, and the girls mock me. And that's no fun at all! Then after school when you want me to behave like a girl, it's always the free time and fun time part of the day the way you scheduled it, so all I ever learn about how girls feel is how girls have fun. I mean, you got me those Barbie dolls, and I did finally learn to enjoy collecting them and dressing them. And I love sleepovers with Heather and Florrie, and the other girls from across town who think I'm really a girl. We talk girl talk all night, and we help each other with all sorts of things! It was wonderful when Heather introduced me to her big brother Jim and right off Jim asked me out. I adore being with him! I get the nicest feeling that he can protect me from anything! I always feel sort of tingly whenever he talks to me or touches me. Even without those white pills. Isn't that odd?" "No, it's natural at your age, sweetheart. Jim is perfect for you at this stage, Allie, the way other boys will be afterward. But what is it you're telling me? That being a girl is too much fun, and being a boy isn't?" "No, Mom, of course not! Just that it isn't fifty fifty, what you arranged for me. I mean even in boy time I'm always wearing panties, and no one at school will ever forget that they saw me wearing pink nail polish. Even the little kids call me names! And now you want me to wear boobies during my boy time. And I'm always a girl when we visit Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth on weekends. From Friday afternoons clear through to Monday mornings!" "We promised the judge you'd learn how to cope with being a boy during school hours. We said nothing at all about weekends, Allie. And you know perfectly well that Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth won't have boys in their houses. Boys are too rough. That's why they want to help you enjoy being a girl every way they can. The same way I do! You should thank them!" "I know." "And Allie, you are starting your adolescence, after all. It's time for you to start thinking about love, and romance, and things. There are big advantages to being a girl. You did say you liked sucking on Jim's dingle, didn't you? Well, would he let a boy do that?" "No way, Mom!" "Would he let you do that if he knew that sometimes you're a boy? No, I thought not. On the other hand, does he ever do anything to you as a girl that makes you feel good too? Aha, I see you're smiling! Out with it!" "Oh, yes! Mom, you know those lumps behind my nipples, that make them stick out in front a little?" "Yes, they're why I got you that starter bra." "He likes to take them into his mouth and suck them and lick my nipples. First one, then the other." "And you like to let him?" "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Mom, it feels just wonderful! Heavenly! I can hardly breathe when he's sucking on my nipples! We do it for hours. I feel so...warm toward him then. I hold his head in my arms and I feel so...wonderful!" "Now, that's just my point, sweetheart. I'm so glad for you! Could you do that with Jim if you were a boy?" "No, there's nothing I'd want him to do with me if I were a boy. Except maybe throw me a football." "And which do you prefer? Which would he rather do, do you think? Nurse on your breasts or throw you a football?" "Oh, Maaaa! C'mon! You know!" "Yes, sweetheart, I certainly do know. Boys never do get over their hunger for the breast. Allie, maybe we should talk more seriously. About your mausea, Dr. Diana did mention that if it became debilitating she could reduce the estrogen and progesterone component of your hormonal dosages, but she'd do that only if you were willing to undergo a corresponding reduction in the testosterone your body produces." "Mom, I didn't understand anything you just said." "She'll prescribe you less girl juice if your body stops making so much boy juice." "She can do that? How can I do that?" "Well, you know that little bag of skin between your legs that hides behind your dingle?" "Under my clit. You told me always to call mine a clit." "Yes, sweetheart. Did you ever wonder what that bag was for?" "Not really. I know Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth don't have one. Just puffy edges along that long crack where their clits hide out, where they like me to kiss them goodbye sometimes when I'm leaving after a visit. 'So I'll respect womanhood,' they always say. Jim has a little sack like mine, but his has little eggs in it. He likes me to stroke them if I can be gentle. If I'm not, the least little bump and he's rolling on the ground, hurting. Mine don't really ever hurt. They're just sort of teeny blobs in there." "Well, for that you can be thankful. You'd have eggs like Jim's if I hadn't started you on your little purple pills a few years ago when your father left us. Then they'd hurt too when the boys in school hit you there. But those little blobs can still do you a lot of damage, sweetheart. They can make you all hairy, and square off your pretty face and make it too big, and turn those thin, willowy arms of yours into ugly muscles, and make your shoulders and your waistline too big, not at all slender and dainty like now, and make your skin rough instead of soft, and make that charming, delicate voice of yours all deep and hoarse. They can make you bald, like your father. They can make you mean and belligerent, quarrelsome, like your father when he'd disagree with me. The big purple pills are needed to stop all that from happening. But they do make for a kind of war going on in your body, and that's what makes you feel nauseous when you take them." "Mom, you know, that's what's happening to lots of boys in my class right now! Some of them are starting to shave. And Bill and Kevin, the two boys who used to be my friends, they're now very nasty to me. They pick on me a lot, and they call me a sissy, and even when I say 'So what, that's what I am' the way you told me to say, they hit me. They want to score points with their friends, I figure." "Probably. But honey, we can fix that! Dr. Diana can fix it." "How?" By making you more of a girl. The best way for someone like you to cope with being a sissy is not to be a boy at all, but to be a girl. Dr. Diana can shrink those blobs inside your scrotum with medicine or x-rays, or she can make a teensy incision and remove them, so they can't do you any more harm. Then the smaller purple pills will be enough to do what needs doing. "Mom, I ... I don't know. I mean, when Dad left us, all that was supposed to happen was that I learn to understand girls better. Not to be one. Not right away. Not yet." "Why not, sweetie? Do you enjoy being a boy?" "No. I told you! It's awful!" "What do you think Jim might do if he found out you're a boy." "He wouldn't want to put his dingle in my bottom any more. He loves me when I let him do that! He calls me 'sweet cheeks' and he's so nice to me when I let him! And he says he just can't help it, once he puts it deep into me it feels so good he just has to squirt. Every time!" "Oh? He's been in your bottom? How does it feel?" "Full. Good. Especially when he moves it in and out. Then after he squirts I leak, sometimes, but that's kind of nice too, because it reminds me where he's been. He says boys do the same thing to other boys sometimes, but they're faggots, queers, and he wants no part of that! With girls it's OK, he says, because girls have slits too. He doesn't use my slit because I'm under age." "I see. You wouldn't want him to find out you don't have a slit, would you?" "No Ma'am!" "So let's see where we are. It seems there's no advantage for you to keep being a boy, except maybe that you play that computer game -- what do you call it -- 'Battle Cruiser'-- when you're in boy time. Do you think that if you were a girl you could still play 'Battle Cruiser'?" "I guess so. I don't think I'd want to though. There are too many other interesting things girls do." "Allie, let me tell you something. Once those nasty blobs are out of the way I'm sure the judge would agree that we should finish the job. We could always testify that you were a born hermaphrodite. Or that you lost them through a high fever, or from getting mumps. Even in a bicycle accident! It happens. Especially if you yourself asked him to let your doctors finish the job." "Really? What job?" "Well, you remember you mentioned those slits Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth have between their legs? The kind Jim doesn't know you don't have? Wouldn't you like to have one after all, a slit of your very own?" "Mom, I don't know. What are they for?" "Mainly they're another place for men to stick their dingles. And when there's a dingle inside it, it feels especially nice. Very very nice. Better than a dingle in your bottom. Better even than your nipples. Believe me, it's true!" "Really? How do you know?" "I've got one, just like Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth. All girls do. Every now and then I'll go out and find a nice man to put his dingle into me there, and it's wonderful. I love it! Or I'll borrow a long plastic dingle from one of your aunts -- they don't like men any more than they like boys, so they use artificial dingles on each other. It feels sort of the way Jim makes you feel when he's sucking on your tits, only much better! It's heavenly. You wait, you'll see!" "Do you think Jim would want to put his dingle into mine if I had one?" "I'm sure of it. In fact I'm equally sure that when he finds out you don't have one, he'll start looking for another girlfriend. Boys do prefer girls with breasts and slits both." "Mom! Don't joke! I want Jim to keep on liking me! He's the only boy who ever liked me for being girly! All the other boys tease me for it, or punch me!" "Yes, honey, I understand. But that's because he thinks you are a girl. I must tell you in all honesty, sooner or later Jim is going to find out you aren't a complete girl, and then he's going to be very mad. Maybe even violent. You'll be lucky if all he does then is stop seeing you." "Mom! Mommy! Oh, mom! I don't want Jim to stop seeing me!" "Then stop crying and listen to me, sweetheart. This is serious! Jim may be your first crush, but he certainly won't be your last. If you get a slit, and I'm sure you will, you shouldn't get it merely to keep Jim interested. You should get it for yourself! For your own satisfaction! There are lots of Jims in your future if you want them. Lots for any girl who has breasts and a slit! Trust me, I know." "You mean men like the ones you dated before you married Daddy?" "And also the ones I dated after I married Daddy. Before your Daddy found out where I was going night after night and filed for a divorce and sole custody of his son, claiming I was an unfit mother. The idea! He was so selfish! He wanted me only for himself! That was what made your aunts and me decide he should get nothing at all as far as you're concerned. And that's what he's got, honey, even though he doesn't know it yet. It's just a matter of your accepting the fact. He has no son now. He has an unhappy sissy half the time, and a sweet girl the other half. It hasn't been easy for you, I appreciate that. But I'm sure that in the long run you'll be much better off when you're all girl, Allie. In fact you know you will be! You just said it yourself. As a boy everyone is cruel to you and as a girl you're loved. Which do you want to be full time? You can't ask for an easier choice than that, can you?" "No, Mom. I guess not." "But take your time deciding, anyhow. Hurry on upstairs now. There's Jane's car in the driveway, and we do want her to see how lovely you look in those new dresses. Hurry and put on the one you mean to wear for your date with Jim this coming Saturday. And don't forget to take those pills! We'll talk more about them later. Maybe a bigger white one will solve your problem with the big purple ones for the time being. I'm sure a bigger white one will help make you more popular with more boys as your body takes shape. Boys like girls who smile and feel good about everything, and don't remember too well. And you'll want to meet other boys besides Jim to feel good with, now that you're sexually active. I'll talk to your aunts and to Dr. Diana about that too! I really do care about you, sweetheart! I do so want you to be happy! I love you!" "Oh, Mom! I love you too, you know that!" "I know, darling. Oooh, what a lovely hug! Upstairs now! Why not try on that tan print dress first? I'll bet even now you have exactly the right figure for it!" FIN (c) 1999 by Vickie Tern. May be accessioned by any archive with free access (but do let me know, VickieTern@AOL.COM).