Date: Sat, 11 Aug 2007 14:01:45 EDT
From: MartiL340@aol.com
Subject: FREAK, a tg story

Freak
By Mardee Louise Prynne


ALLEN INTRODUCES HIMSELF

	I played with the girls when I was little.  Of course you could
have guessed that.  It was okay, not great, just okay until some of the
girls started to feel uncomfortable talking about girl things with me
around.  And so I became pretty much a loner until high school.  Then
things started to change.  Things started to change not just for me, but
for a few of the other kids as well.
	Although I avoided team games in school I was a fair stick ball
player and a very good handball player.  Somehow I thought that by becoming
good at these games I might free myself of some of the teasing I got for
hanging out with girls and playing what were regarded as girls' games.  Of
course girls played handball too but they didn't usually play against boys.
They only played with boys in flirtatious doubles games in which they
covered up their often superior athletic skills.  I often wondered why the
girls avoided competing against the boys when many of the girls were
faster, better coordinated, and despite their shorter, more slender frames,
stronger.
	I became the exception.  Some of the girls allowed me to join them
in handball and in a variation called KINGS or Chinese handball. Oddly
enough, the girls who included me in their games were the more athletic,
tougher, less prissy, less self-styled ladylike cliques.  I became an adept
player but all it got me was the nickname of `tomboy.'  The boys avoided me
all the more since it was too embarrassing to be beaten in an athletic game
by the `tomboy.'  At least the more athletic girls still let me play with
them.
	Did I say I've always been a little different?  A whole lot
different is more like it.  Actually, I was a kind of freak in most kids'
eyes.

	The academic or college prep track courses were what most kids took
in my high school.  Those courses, intended for students planning on
college, formed the nucleus of my program.  When it came to choosing
electives my being different again surfaced.  I chose courses in the
commercial track, the secretarial studies classes.  The commercial track
prepared the girls who were not interested in going on after high school or
who were unable to afford college to work in offices by teaching typing,
bookkeeping, and shorthand.  This meant the program was almost exclusively
followed by girls who, although not in the least dull, had no interest in
going to college.  Family finances was the reason for some of these very
capable girls choosing the commercial track; for others it was their
family's cultural values that meant no college, at least not for girls.  A
significant number were just too ambitious, too bright, and too driven to
keep their place.  Lots of these girls did eventually attend college on a
part time basis and, on completion of college, went on to a better life
style than they would have had if they stayed in their place.
	A few boys took some typing classes, usually in senior year when
they had met all of their other course requirements.  These boys claimed it
would be valuable to be able to type their papers in college.  No one
believed them, not for one single second, least of all the very goons who
said so.  Everyone knew these goons thought it was an easy class and that
they would have a high old time flirting with the girls.
	I wasn't at all sure why I was taking so many commercial classes.
No, that's not so.  I knew very well but avoided saying so even to myself.
Actually, it was another way to become more like a girl.  Being an almost
exclusively girls only setting, a setting in which the real girls were able
to be themselves without male ogling, afforded an opportunity to learn and
practice feminine body posture.  While taking shorthand I crossed my legs
tightly with one foot hooked behind the other calf.  Some of the time I sat
with my knees together, my feet flat on the floor in an evocation of
feminine modesty. As I sat I wondered what it would feel like to wear a
skirt and stockings like all the other girls in the class.  Did real girls
ever take for granted the sensation of a garter pulling even more tightly
as they extended their legs or as they knelt to retrieve something from
their purse or from a file cabinet?  Most girls wore stockings to school
only on special occasions but even on ordinary days how wonderful it must
feel to experience skirts and pettis rustling against bare legs, to
flirtatiously adjust those skirts as I sat or crossed my legs.  To feel the
boys' eyes on my calves as I bend forward and pull up my crew socks would
be a thrill, a thrill of power.
	The control that these girls could exert became obvious almost from
the first day I was in a class with them.  They were all very nice to me
but they delighted in giving the self-styled "big man on campus" types a
very hard time, hard in more ways than one.  The girls had only to smooth
their stockings, or just or adjust the cuffed fold of their bobby-sox to
have these jerks staring transfixed.  But that was only for openers for
these tough minded girls. Once having gotten the boy's attention with their
not very revealing but extremely provocative moves, a girl would make
eye-contact and sneer.  By the time these girls, so different from the
so-called classier types who would be going to college only to earn an MRS,
had finished with these boys, they had shattered each boy's confidence
almost beyond repair.  Just a flash of the lacy hem of a slip or petti
would be enough to distract those boys from the day's lesson making them
look like the fools they were.
	Of course some of the boys did try to get `handy' with some of
these girls.  The girls welcomed such attentions, but not for the reasons
the boys hoped they would.  It gave the girls an excuse to mark the
would-be Lotharios with scratches and bruises and, on occasion, sore balls
depending on where their intended victims decided to strike.  Some of the
boys enjoyed these humiliations as indicated by the hard-on they often got
when the girls would verbally or physically challenge them.
	Most girls wore those pretty things every single day even though
nobody got to see them except a few other girls, their intimate friends.
That made me so envious.  The variety of textures and colors in panties
alone were so special.  I longed to wear such finery even for a few
minutes. But in the end, even I had to admit that referring to "all the
other girls" in the class wasn't the least bit accurate since I wasn't one
of the girls and could never be.  Or so I believed.
	There was, I knew from having peeked at a discarded pin-up
magazine, some vague hope for me.  The magazine had a two page article, a
photo essay really, on a female impersonator.  It showed a slender man in
panties seated at a dressing table applying makeup.  Then a photo of him
now fully made up, still seated but facing the camera, as he rolled a
stocking over his smooth and shapely leg so gracefully pointed in the air.
Next he donned his wig and did the finishing touches to his hairstyle with
a comb.  The final photo showed him as a fashionably dressed, very
attractive woman, a woman who was tastefully seductive ,a woman whose calm
smile told she how confident she was in the power she exerted by her very
being.  A `funny' sensation which welled up in my tummy became an
unfamiliar but pleasant tingle in my groin.  I headed for home as quickly
as possible without calling undue attention to myself.  The magazine was
tucked under my jacket and I just knew that if anyone found it they would
somehow know that it was the female impersonator photos that prompted me to
keep it.
	The bathroom mirror confirmed my hopes. I now knew I had the right
facial bones and features along with the slender figure to learn to do what
this performer was able to but I also knew I didn't want to perform in a
cabaret like some sort of oddity.  Even though it was almost
nineteen-fifty, the second half of the twentieth century, I could think of
no way I could be a girl, even some of the time, without being a freak on
display.  That wasn't for me.  I would be a real girl, albeit a girl with a
penis, pursuing the lifestyle of a beautiful, glamorously sophisticated,
powerful, successful woman; successful by her own definition, powerful in
her ability to control her destiny.  I fantasized this version of `me'
would have a succession of lovers but I was not at all certain if my lovers
would be women, men or an undreamed of combination.
	I knew this to be an impossible dream, a weird jerk-off fantasy so
I put it aside and thought of it only in that special instant between
waking and sleeping.  And yet this strange reverie came to invade my dreams
both night and day.  It soon became my one major dream, the great hope that
kept me going.
	The margins of my school notebooks and the pages in back of my
loose leaf revealed hints of this hidden self.  My scribbles in the margins
of my notebooks were really sketches; some were line drawings and others
were fully shaded.  Almost all the sketches were of girls' and women's
fashions or of exaggeratedly pretty faces, shaded to show makeup and
wearing earrings or very stylish eye glasses.  There were a few sketches of
hands: very graceful hands with long, elegant fingers adorned with rings,
with wrists sporting bracelets of my own design.  Some were conservative
and traditional while others were more bohemian. Guess what?  I longed to
wear jewelry as fashion accents even with my drab boy clothing but I didn't
dare any more than I dared to try on female finery from girl's style
sweaters to skirts and pettis.  I didn't even dare to draw what I imagined
the well dressed girl or woman might be wearing under the clothing I so
envied.  Oh, I tried such drawings every now and again but the results were
so shocking. Each time I began the seductive young girl bore an undeniable
resemblance to me.  My fear of being discovered, my cowardice, although not
totally irrational, overwhelmed my need.  Was there a place in this city,
even in this world where girls like me could find a place?
	I thought I was undone one morning in the lunchroom waiting for the
first period warning bell, the signal to go up to homeroom.  Marcia, one of
the quietly rebellious girls in my classes, approached and sat down.  She
was strikingly pretty with a great figure and a commanding presence that
was intimidating to all she met.  She was often accompanied by whichever of
her friends who were in her best graces at that moment.
	I drew a breath as Marcia approached me as I sat alone at a corner
table in the school cafeteria waiting for the bell that would allow us to
go up to our homerooms for attendance.
	"Gee, Al, I can't understand why you always want to sit by
yourself?  You know it would be swell if you sat with us."
	I managed a smile as Marcia pushed a stray lock of blondish brown
hair back from her cheek to behind her ear.
	"I'm sure it would be keen but you always sit with a crowd of
girls, never any boys."
	"Most boys are major drips but you're not like them.  You've got
some really special things going for you.  Trouble is you don't even know
it.  There are lots of girls who would appreciate someone like you, if you
get my drift.  I'll bet you don't even know that there are lots of boys who
would love to be, well, to be friends with you but they're just too worried
about their friends might think."
	"I guess so but what about the girls who sit with you?  They might
not care to be seen sitting with me."
	"Just try it and see how quickly you part of the group."
 	Was this my chance to become one of the girls?  Well, as close to
being one of the girls as possible for someone like me.  She has to be
making fun of me.
	My face must have shown my confusion because Marcia perched on the
table in front of me.  A student marshal motioned for Marcia to get off the
table.  My new friend screwed up her face in what could have been a frown
or a sneer, opened her mouth ever so slightly and touched the tip of her
tongue to her front teeth.
	The student marshal, a studious girl who was quite pretty in a
plain sort of way, broke eye contact with Marcia, and then she looked
toward me with a funny, embarrassed smile.  There was something about this
girl and her smile that made the short hairs on the back of my neck stand
up.
	Marcia meanwhile had turned my notebook toward her and watched me
blush as she looked over a sketch I was working on.
	"Say, you're good."
	"Thanks but I was just playing around. It's just a line drawing
with some shading.  No big deal."
	"Playing around? No big deal?  These are super!  Wait until Miss
Preston gets a look at these.  You'll be the star of her program in no
time."
	"Now I know you're making fun of me. Miss Preston hates having boys
in her programs.  All the kids say she hates boys `cause she's a^Å"
	"Just don't believe everything you hear.  You wouldn't like me to
believe all the stuff they say about you, that you're some kind of a freak.
Like I said before, Allie, you're not like most boys. You never act like
those goons.  You've got style and class.  Miss Preston's art and design
program might be just the place for you to develop some of that talent you
don't even know you have."
	"I still think you're making fun of me.  Even if you're not, I
don't want you to tell anyone about these."
	I slammed my notebook closed and pouted.
	"Allie, just stop feeling sorry for your self.  I don't waste my
time teasing.  If you want to sulk just because someone's trying to help
you, just forget it.  Forget about sitting with me and my friends until you
wake up."
	I felt my face growing warm as I blushed at Marcia's abbreviating
my name to the distinctly feminine `Allie.'
	"Gee, I hope you don't mind me calling you Allie.  It just came
out.  Suits you though."
	"I don't mind at all.  It's just that everybody will make fun of me
like they always do."
	"Suppose I call you Allie only when no one else is around? If
anyone else hears it and starts using it without being mean, then you know
it's right."
	I nodded and then, without thinking, I answered Marcia.
	"No, Marcia.  It doesn't matter in the least if you or anyone else
thinks Allie's the right name for me.  What matters is whether or not I
feel it's the right name for me and I do feel it's right, ever so right."
	Marcia was clearly taken aback but was too surprised by my
assertive reaction to say a word.
	Tense at first over being invited to do something I had hoped for
for so long, I soon relaxed and walked up to first class feeling almost
elated. It suddenly struck me that I was too relaxed; relaxed to the point
where I was allowing my effeminate nature to emerge. I was clutching my
notebook to my chest the way girls carried their school books. So what if
anyone sneers?  This is me and I'm tired of pretending. There's no point in
pretending when I'm fooling no one, not even myself.  And besides, if I
could face down that dolt Ron, I can take care of myself.
	Suddenly I found, ahead of me, a cluster of boys and girls moving
so slowly as to be all but loitering on the stairs.  I tried to edge my way
through only to be stopped by Ronald, a minor jock, minor in every way but
his ego and his swaggering airs.
	Much to my surprise, Ron smiled at me and said "Hi."  No sarcasm,
nothing but a matter of fact, almost friendly "hi."  I smiled at him by way
of returning his greeting.
	His girlfriend, a bullying snob with nothing to be snobbish about,
elbowed him and whispered "What are you doing saying `hi' to that thing?
Do something right now or your reputation is gone and so am I."
	I felt badly for Ron, but not for long.  He released his girl
friend's hand as he spread his arm across my chest.
	"Excuse me, Miss! Don't you know you're not supposed to run on the
stairs?"
	I heard a few giggles from the girls and some sniggering from the
boys.  "Miss! That's good," came from a kid I couldn't see.
	"I said `excuse me.'  Now let me pass."
	My tone surprised even me. It was calm, self-assured and, above
all, aggressive.
	Ron was nonplussed by my reaction.  It was something no one, least
of all me, expected.  He stepped aside as I kept eye-contact with him.  I
moved slowly forward as he leaned away from me.  Barbara's voice broke the
silence.
	"Ronald, you are such a phony.  Look at him, everyone, he's backing
down from that skinny little fruit."
	That did it!  Ron had no choice now but to stand up to me; not that
that would have been a problem for him or anyone else.  I was terrified of
a fight or at least I was until that moment.
	Ron bounded up two or three steps and stood in front of me with his
hands clenched at his sides.  It was pretty clear to me that he was even
more perturbed than I was.
	"Just move out of my or I'll have to move you out of my way." I
surprised myself at least as much as I surprised Ron and the group of
onlookers.
	Again sniggers.  I was no longer sure whether I was bluffing or so
angry that I would really do something physical to my tormentor.
	"Hey, Ron," a voice from the sidelines chimed in, "Are you going to
take lip from that faggot?"
	To my amusement Ron was beginning to sweat.  He was at least as
afraid of getting into a fight as I was! Of course he had much more to lose
by way of status than I did.  Even if I didn't win but just held him off,
Ron's reputation would be destroyed.  This was too good an opportunity for
me to let go by.
	"Yes, Ron," I echoed, "Are you afraid of me?"
	"No, no I'm not!  I just don't want to hit a fruit like you.  It
would be like hitting a girl.  You're really just like a girl, faggot."
	"Oh, is that so?  Maybe you just don't want to fight a girl,
especially not the kind of girl you say I am because it would be just too,
too embarrassing if she beat you up."  I paused and watched Ron become more
and more uncomfortable.  Then I added, "Not if she beats you up, but when
she beats you up."
	This time the sniggers were replaced by laughter.  At first I
thought they might be laughing at me but then the cat calls started again
with Ron as the target!
	The confrontation was as good as over and I had won!  Ron was
steaming but unable to make a move against me.  The cluster of kids
dissolved as almost everyone went their separate ways.  A few of the guys
even patted me on the back.  "Good show, Al."
	A few of the girls stood in front of me and smiled.
	"That was so neat.  He really had it coming."
	"Yeah, Al, you really told that jerk where to get off."  This from
one of the boys!
	I walked slowly and gracefully, perhaps too gracefully, past Ron.
My pace didn't alter as he shouted at my back.
	"Fucking faggot, I just didn't want to get in trouble in school.
I'll fix you when we're alone sometime.  Just watch your back."
	"Watch my back, indeed," I shot back over my shoulder.  "Don't you
think you're watching my back enough for both of us; or is it my backside
you're watching?"
	By now I had reached the landing. I didn't turn around or even
glance over my shoulder but I was pretty sure Ron was still looking at me.
To ridicule him even more, I walked forward putting one foot directly in
front of the other to make my walk even more girlish, to let him know that
he backed down from a fight with a fruit, a faggot.
	An angry sound from Ron; a sound that was neither a bellow nor a
groan yet was both. Silence, followed by the sound of someone, presumably
Ron, hurrying down the stairs.  The stairwell exit door opened. Had I gone
too far in making Ron flee from his apparent disgrace in front of his
friends?  And why did he run when most everyone had already left?
	It was ever so silly of him to run off.  No one would have doubted
him if he said he just didn't want to get into trouble for starting a fight
with me in school. I mean really no staff member would have believed that
innocent, ineffective, timid Allan could start a fight.  But if he had said
that, he might have to face up to me after school.
	The feeling of confidence I had as I sashayed through the school
corridors was wonderfully liberating.  I was free to be as effeminate as I
wanted to be and I no longer feared being bullied.  The boys who teased me
so mercilessly were now intimidated by the aggressively femme Allie who was
replacing the cowering Allen.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
THE STORY CONTINUES
	Ron, still agitated by the confrontation he just fled, leaned
against the wall in the vestibule of the side entrance.  He was flushed and
breathless.  He had fled the confrontation with Allie out of fear but not
simply fear of a physical confrontation.  He was terrified that his
painfully hard penis would betray that he was turned on by the effeminate
teen who had so brazenly stood up to him, turned on more intensely than any
girl had ever turned him on.  Boys, real boys didn't affect him at all.
All those soapy bodies in the shower, guys in briefs standing around the
locker room did nothing to him.  A glimpse of a girl's stocking tops,
however fleeting, really got him going, but this was something new and
frightening, new and overwhelming.  A slight, slender, and, okay, but it
was hard to admit, pretty boy who posed, postured like a girl got him
really going.
	The late bell rang!  Homeroom period was short which didn't give
him much time to deal with his already throbbing erection.  The gym locker
room would be empty for at least another twenty-five minutes.  Alone in a
stall, he slipped his hand into his briefs as his pants fell to his ankles.
Not a moment too soon, he thought as the drop of precum oozed onto his
finger tip.  Then impulsively and for no reason he could fathom, he took
the pearly drop onto his finger tip and brought it to his mouth.  Rather
than being repelled, he was further aroused.  A fantasy of Allie standing
before him in white panties, his cock outlined through the delicate fabric
allowed Ron to get himself off in what he realized were too few minutes.
	Ron's heart raced as he squeezed his post orgasm cum onto his
finger tips and brought his fingers to his lips.  He hesitated, pulled his
fingers away from his face.  The failed effort to taste what he now knew he
wanted was enough to let him know that only the cum of a femme boy would do
in the future.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
 	The rest of the day had been an anticlimax for Allie despite that
fact that he moved through the school corridors with no fear of being
teased.  Then it happened.  He was at his locker when he realized that a
whole lot of stuff was missing from one of his loose leaf notebooks.  This
notebook had most of the drawings and sketches that had gotten Marcia's
attention earlier that day.  His stomach sank as he thought of being
exposed for even more of his girlish ways.  Referencing himself as a girl
in the showdown with Ron could be chalked up to goading Ron.  Those
drawings and sketches were so completely a girl thing that he could never
explain them away.  That they were on notebook pages covered with Allan's
own flowery handwriting meant there was no denying they were his.
	A tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Marcia.  She handed him
the missing pages.
	"I showed these to Miss Preston. She said whoever drew these has
real talent and that you should develop it.
	"Say, why don't we walk home together and I'll tell you everything
she said."
	"Marcia, at risk of sounding ungrateful, next time ask me before
you take any of my things and don't even think about showing them to Miss
Preston or anyone else without asking me."
	Touchy, isn't he, now that he finally stood up for himself?  Maybe
he shouldn't hang out with me and my friends.  Prissy little bitch, that's
what he is. He's the kind who should hang out with girls like those Ivy
League types, the bitches who suck up to Barbara.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Clusters of teens moved toward the exits of the school.  Some were
reluctant to leave the building to return to less than thrilling home lives
while others, for the same reason, made their way to whatever place their
crowd congregated.  Two very wholesome looking types moved hurriedly down
the stairs where they overtook and passed Allie and Marcia.  They were just
so all American girl (of the fifties) from their white blouses with turned
up collars all the way down to their white crew socks and saddle shoes.
They glanced over their shoulders to greet the two they had just passed.
"Hi, Marcia.  Oh, my gosh. There's Al. Al, hi.  You were so super this
morning.  See ya."
	 "There's some hope for those two," offered Marcia when the two
girls were out of earshot.  "Problem is they're just too into sucking up to
Barbara."  Then Marcia added under her breath, "Probably into sucking her,
too."  Allie nodded as if he really understood.
	Allie and Marcia blinked in the sunshine as they exited the school
building.
	"Marcia, I'm really thrilled that you're being so nice.  I'd love
to walk home with you but not today.  It's just that..."
	"You don't have to explain.  After your near fight with Ron this
morning you need to walk home by yourself so it doesn't look like you're
scared and need me or anybody else to protect you."
	Allie looked down at the sidewalk.
	"Something like that."
	"It's okay, Allie.  I'm not pissed off at all.  Matter of fact, I
think its pretty neat that you're standing up for yourself.  Just `cause
you're not an asshole like most boys doesn't mean you're not tough when it
counts.  Remember, I've played handball with you.  You're so fast you could
probably punch out any two of those jerk-offs at once before they could
even lay a finger on you."


	The newly confident teen clutched his school books to his chest as
he did earlier in the day but now it was with a relaxed confidence in being
more openly the person, the girl he had tried so hard in vain to hide.
	A familiar looking girl smiled at him in a way that made him
tingle.  Their eyes met as he tried to place her.  "Hi," she said.  He
smiled back and responded with a warm hello.  It was the student marshal
who had shooed Marcia off the cafeteria table at the start of the day.

	Allie paused as he waited for the traffic light to change.  A
vaguely familiar voice called to him.
	"Wait up, Al."
	He turned to face a sheepish looking Ron.  Allie's cold "What do
you want?" response froze Ron in his tracks.
	"Come on, Al, don't be like that.  Look, I'm really, really sorry
about being such an asshole this morning.  I want to apologize."
	"Do you now?"
	"I really mean it.  Give me a chance to make it up to you."
	"Ron, honey, there's nothing to make up to me.  You're the one who
chickened out, who ran away."
	"I know, I know but it's not like you think^Å"
	"You couldn't possibly know what I think."
	"Gee whiz, Al.  I'm really sorry I was so rude and nasty.  I mean
it's just so hard for me to explain."
	It was obvious now that Ron might really be feeling contrite about
the way he had tormented Allie when he was still Allen.  One thing for
certain; Ron was pretty upset about something so Allie thought best not to
rub it in.  Maybe another time with an audience would be the right time to
humiliate Ron.  Allie was thrilled with his newly found power.  He not only
enjoyed being able to relax his guard and let his effeminate ways show
through but he was absolutely reveling in being a bitch or at least in
being bitchy.
	"Well, you can walk with me unless you think your friends would
laugh at you for hanging out with me.  That awful girlfriend of yours,
Barbara, seemed to be egging you on this morning and you were eating it
up."
	"I'm through with her.  I'd rather do right by you to make up for
being such a bastard this morning than make out with her when she wants me
to be a goon."
	He may sound nice but I still don't trust him, not really.  For
now, let's see where this is going.
	"Oh, so I'm supposed to forgive and forget about all your
nastiness, not just this morning but ever since you first saw me? Am I
supposed to be thrilled that I'm being allowed to spend a few minutes with
wonderful Ron?"
	The boy's shoulders drooped and he avoided eye contact with Allie
as the effeminate teen berated him.
	"Come on, Allie.  Don't be like that.  I hope you're not turning
out like all those other girls who can be so bitchy.  Just give me a chance
and I'll show you that I can do right by you."
	Does this drip realize he's comparing me to `other girls'?  That's
flattering even if it does come from that egotistical creep.
	"Ron, maybe I'm wrong about you."  Al's voice took on a warm and
soothing tone.  "It's so neat that you would be willing to break up with
your girl just so you can apologize to me."  I still won't give you a
chance^Å" Allie smiled gloatingly as Ron's face registered disappointment.
"I will, however give you half a chance."
	"Not just apologize but really make it up to you.  Say, want to
have a soda with me?  You don't have to say what I think you're thinking.
I really don't care who sees me with you."
	"Okay, but you have to call me Allie when it's just the two of us."

	This was too swell to be real.  Ron was trying so hard to be nice.
It must have been a real effort for him considering how little practice he
had at being anything but an ass-hole.  Allie was definitely going to play
this for all it's worth.
	"Say, it is kind of warm.  A cold soda would taste swell."
	Allie smiled at Ron as he rested his hand on the larger boy's
wrist. He probably got the hint but Allie suspected Ron was having trouble
with the idea of stopping by the soda fountain in the effeminate boy's
company.  To Allie's surprise, Ron said "Okay.  My treat."
	They stepped into the cool dimness of the combination ice cream
parlor and newsstand.  Inside were a few clusters of girls and one or two
boys who had stopped in on the way home from school.
	Allie decided to give Ron a break by stopping in front of the
magazine racks while Ron reached into the ice filled cooler chest to pull
out a couple of colas.  That way Ron's buddies might not realize he was
treating the fairy boy to a soda.
	A cluster of three girls began buzzing as they stared at Ron.  One
of them was the girl who was, if Ron were to be believed, his
ex-girlfriend.  The other two were the girls who greeted Marcia and Allie
as they left school.  Allie was pretty sure they were too focused on Ron to
notice he was there with the effeminate boy.
	Barbara swiveled her stool around so that she was facing Ron.  She
crossed her legs at the ankles in way that made her starched crinolines
flair up to reveal more leg than was usual back in the discreet
nineteen-fifties.
	"Hi, Ron.  Why not get a soda for me too?  If you're nice to me
while we spend some time together I might just find it in my heart to
forgive you for walking away this morning."
	"Barb, there's nothing to talk about.  Besides, I'm with a, with a
friend^Å You know Allan."
	Barb's eyes followed his gaze toward Allie. Only then did it
finally dawn on Barb that Ron and Allie were together.
	"That's too, too much.  So that's your friend, maybe it is your new
girlfriend!"
	Most of the kids left in order to avoid listening to Barb
vituperate against Ron for being decent to someone who didn't meet Barb's
standards.  It wasn't that they cared about Ron and Barb having a public
spat.  It was just that Barb might turn on them as well.
	Poor confused Ron.  He tried to be nice and was getting a public
rebuke from Barb in front of Allie and in front of Barb's friends.  He
might have been too overwhelmed to do anything but take it from her so take
it he did.  Allie, on the other hand, was not.
	"Say, Barb, what if I really am Ron's new girlfriend, as you put
it?  That wouldn't say much for you, would it?  Any girl who loses her
boyfriend to a fairy-boy can't have much going for her, can she?"
	Barb turned a bright red as her friends giggled.
	"You, you bitch," she screeched.  Turning to her friends, she
hissed, "Get way from me you two.  You're no friends of mine if you laugh
when I'm so insulted.  I hate you, I hate all of you."
	Crocodile tears were running down her cheeks.  One of her friends
handed her a tissue only to have Barb slap her hand away.
	"Get away from me.  I don't need any of you.  Stay away from me.  I
hate all of you and," turning her wrath to Ron, "I'll get back at you for
this."
	She gathered up her pocketbook and school things, stood up, faced
the mirror behind the counter, and adjusted the turned up collar of her
white blouse.  Barb wasn't so upset that her vanity was impaired.  It was
if she had fallen in love with her own reflection. Her performance was
over.  It had been to no avail.  Her two girlfriends literally pushed past
her although there was plenty of space for them to avoid physical contact.
	"Wait up," she said.
	Her ex-friends ignored her but one paused to talk to Ron.
	"Ron, I guess you're free to play the field.  You can give me a
call any old time."
	Her smile turned to a frown as Ron, intimidated by Barb, was failed
to respond to her remark.  She turned to Allie and smiled.  "And Al, now
that you're coming out of your shell don't ever become like those creeps
who hang around here." She deliberately looked toward Ron and tilted her
head in his direction in order to provide Allie an example of the "creeps
who hang out around here."  Say, why don't you give me call so I can help
you develop this new you?  See ya, Al."
	"Sure thing.  See ya."  It was a little awkward because Allie had
no idea of this girl's name.  And, what, Allie wondered, did she mean by
her offer to help Allie "develop this new you?"
	Ron had this funny look on his face.
	"What's up, Ron?"
	"Nothing's up." He was sharp.
	Was he jealous that Allie might take a girl away from him or was it
that the girl would take Allie away from him?  It struck Allie that it was
more than possible that Ron was, on some level, attracted to him in the way
a boy might be to a girl.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	"Mom, I need to make a private phone call.  May I use the phone
extension in your room?"
	"Of course, darling.  Take your time and I promise not to disturb
you."
	"Thanks, Mother.  You're a pal."
	"Pal!  That's a new expression for you."  An approving smile lit up
her eyes as she silently reflected on the two words that caught her
attention.  "Pal" could have been the exuberant excitement of almost any
teen responding an offer of privacy by her or his mother.  Now "Mother" was
something else entirely.  A boy of any age would rarely use that term in
the second person. Now if he starts calling me Mommy^ÅThat will tell me
he's definitely ready.  Poor dear, so unhappy all these years but I had to
protect him until I was sure he was ready.

	Allie went into Mother's bedroom and closed the door.  He took the
phone from the nightstand and put it on the floor.  His reflection in the
vanity table mirror caught his eye.  His fingers raked his hair, pushing it
into a semblance of bangs.  His lustrous dark brown hair was closely
clipped along the sides in fifties fashion.  Allie pushed the hair on the
back of his head as if putting up long hair.  He swore to himself that he
would never, ever allow a barber to use hair clippers on him again.  He was
due for his next haircut in a few days but resolved to skip it.  (Bear in
mind that in the fifties men and boys had a haircut every two weeks.)
	He reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out a slip of
paper on which he had written Marcia's phone number when he looked it up
earlier.
	"Marcia, hi."
	"Allie!  I'm so glad you called."
	"Did you think I wouldn't?  I mean, it's just so swell that you
want to be friends.  That hasn't happened to me very often."
	"Don't get all syrupy.  You're a neat kid who deserves lots of
friends, real friends.  Say! How was the walk home?  I saw Ron catch up to
you.  I hope you don't mind but I kept close for a couple of minutes.  I
know, I know.  I shouldn't have."
	"Ron was just so sweet.  I really pushed it with him but he not
only went to the candy store with me but he bought me a soda in front of
everyone.  That Barbara creep went into a real snit but just wait until I
tell you how I took charge."
	"Okay, so tell me already."
	A few minutes later there was a tap on the door.  Allie responded
"Mom? You can come in."
	"I just want to put these on my dresser.  I'll put them away
later."
	Allie continued the phone conversation with Marcia.  Mom spent
hardly any time in the room and wasn't deliberately eavesdropping.  She
couldn't help but hear Allie repeat something Marcia had just said.
	"Really, Marcia?  You actually think that Ron is acting like he has
a crush on me?"
	Mother tapped softly on the door, came into the room, put a pile of
freshly laundered underthings on the dresser and left.  As she deposited
the underthings on the dresser, Allie caught her reflection in the mirror.
A tiny smile showed at the edges of the woman's mouth.  As she stepped out
the door she nodded to Allie and pursed her lips at him in a long distance
kiss as she nodded approval.
	Allie should have been embarrassed by his mother hearing him
chatting about the possibility of a boy having a crush on him.  He felt
lighter, liberated at not having to hide any longer.
	A combination of opposing emotions welled up in Allie.  Oh, yes.
He knew he was Allie now, no longer Allan and certainly not the coarse guy
suggested by the diminutive of his given name. No, he was definitely not an
Al.  Accepting the nickname given to him by Marcia as she invited him to
become one of her clique of girls was as liberating as standing up to Ron
in front of all of his friends, as liberating as having manipulated Ron
into treating him to a soda as if he were courting a potential date.
	Allie hung up the phone, rose to his feet and put the phone back on
the nightstand.  As he moved toward the door he reached out to caress the
lingerie his mother had left on her dresser. A pair of white cotton panties
in the tailored brief style so ubiquitous in the fifties lay on top.  Even
the cotton was so much finer, so much softer than the white cotton of his
coarse boy briefs.  He dared not touch the nylon and silk that lay below
lest he disturb the pile and incur Mother's disapproval. It took an effort
of will for Allie to open the door and walk away from the feminine finery
that held such a fascination for him.
	Mother was sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea and reading the
evening newspaper.
	"Sweetie, you do know I overheard you on the phone.  I just want to
reassure you that I'm not at all annoyed by what I heard.  Actually, I'm
relieved.  You see, darling, people are often very unhappy of they have to
hide what they are.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"
	"Oh, yes, Mommy.  We used to stay at a house near a beach when I
was little.  There was another lady there.  Oh, I remember now.  You let me
wear little girl sundresses and swim suits.  I think I had underpants in
pretty colors, too.
	"But, Mommy did that really happen or am I just remembering it
wrong, remembering the way I wanted it to be?"
	"Not at all, you're remembering it just the way it was."
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Marcia caught up with Allie as the students dispersed after the
school day.
	"How did it go with Miss Preston?"
	"I think it went really, really well.  Miss Preston is neat, really
nice.  Everyone says she's mean to boys but that wasn't at all how she was
to me. Maybe she didn't see me as a boy.  I guess she saw me more like a
girl.  It was weird though.  She looked me up and down, asked me to hold my
hands in certain ways and finally as ked me to walk around the room.  She
talked to me about working in some arty shops some of her friends have.
That's going to be so neat.  She wants me to stop by tomorrow."
	"You mean you're not upset about being thought of as a kind of
girl."
	"Marcia, honey, maybe this isn't the place for me to open up to you
and you may not even want to hear about my problems so maybe I should just
shut up."
	"You're right about this not being the place.  We need a quieter,
more private place."
	The two walked quietly until they came to the soda fountain where
Allie had tasted feminine power when Ron bought him a soda.  They entered
and made their way to a booth near the back.
	They sat next to each other facing the door.
	"Say," declared Marcia.  "Let me treat you to a sundae to celebrate
you waking up to what you have going for you."
	"Gee, I don't know.  It may sound silly to you but I don't want to
gain weight now that summer's getting close."
	"I can relate to that.  Most girls can; we all want to look good in
shorts or a swim suit.  But this is a special occasion."
	Marcia slid out of the booth and returned a few minutes later with
two basic sundaes: just a scoop of ice cream and some chocolate syrup.
	"See these.  I kept the calories low.  Now we can chat."
	"Marcia, you probably won't understand because you're always so
independent.  You don't care what other kids think.  It's always been
different for me."
	Marcia nodded as Allie paused.
	"I've always been happier doing girl things but the teasing and
bullying got to be so bad that I had to learn to cover it up as best I
could.  No one was fooled except me and I felt miserable so much of the
time.
	"But it was just so special standing up to Ron that I felt I could
be as girlish as I wanted to so I just walked like I always wanted to.  And
then when he tried to make up with me, I got him to buy me a soda.  I felt
so strong and so sure of what I should be.  Still, I hate him for all the
times he tormented me.  I just want to hurt him, hurt him and humiliate him
in every way I can."
	"All of us girls enjoy being bitchy some of the time.  Perfectly
swell for you to be that way when you need to and when someone deserves it.
No one deserves it more than Ron except maybe Barbara."
	The pair sat smirking like pair of Cheshire cats when who walks in
but Anne and Rebecca.  To Marcia's and Allie's consternation, they noticed
them and made a beeline toward the booth.
	"Hi, mind if we join you?"
	Allie was about to answer it was not okay when Marcia dug her
fingers into his thigh.  He took the hint and said nothing.
	"Suit your self," smiled Marcia.
	"Hi, Allie.  I guess we should introduce ourselves to you.  I'm
Anne and this is Rebecca."
	"This is my friend Marcia."
	"Hi, Marcia.  I've seen you around school.  We just want to
congratulate Allie for standing up for himself the other day.  Wow, you
really stared Ron down.  And then you got him to treat you like a
princess^ÅOh, my gosh. Sorry, didn't mean to say princess.  It's just that
you're^Å.  I didn't mean any offense, Allie."
	"And you really ticked off Barbara. Made us realize what a user she
is," added Anne.  "Anyhow, we hope you might want to be friends with us.
Don't worry, we're done with Barbara."
	"I bet you both would like to fix her once and for all.  Get back
at Ron while you're at it." Marcia eyed the pair as she spoke.
	"Why would we want to get back at Ron?"  Rebecca tried very hard to
sound as though she was in the dark.  She convinced no one.
	"For falling under Barbara's spell when either of you felt you
deserved him more."
	Rebecca and Anne nodded but avoided eye contact with either Marcia
or Allie.  Marcia looked toward Allie with a smile at the corners of her
mouth. These two are more likely to have wanted to make out with Barbara
than with Ron. Marcia kept her thoughts to herself as she spoke to Allie.
	"Your call, Allie."
	Allie smiled.  "Ladies, you're in the right place.  Let's just hang
out together for now. We might find out we have more interests in common
than just despising Ron."
	Twenty minutes later the foursome, still chattering away about girl
things, got up to leave.  They paused at the magazine rack where Allie
selected a copy of "Young Miss."  He was about to take it to the counter
when Anne offered to take it up to the counter for him.
	"If I buy it and give it to you later, you won't be getting the
fish-eye like you would if you bought it yourself."
	"Thanks, Anne, for being so thoughtful but I have to get used to
doing what I want and not hiding."
	One of Ron's buddies sidled over to the register to get a glimpse
of what Allie was buying.  It was a mistake on his part.
	"Like what you see?"  Allie spoke softly, part flirtatiously and
part belligerently.  He held the magazine under the boy's nose.  "Now go
ahead and say something and I'll shove this down your throat."  With that
she folded the magazine and jammed it into the befuddled boy's stomach.  He
backed away with a frightened look on his face.  This was hardly what he
intended when he approached Allie.  It wasn't so much that he feared Allie
might attack him, hurt him physically.  It was fear arising out of
confusion, out of not knowing how to react to this skinny angry boy and the
realization that Allie was as pretty as some of the more attractive girls
in school.

	The four walked down the street chatting in a friendly, open manner
about all sorts of things but mainly they stuck to girl things.  These
topics, so recently closed to Allie, included whether certain super control
girdles were worth the extra discomfort, the best way to starch crinolines,
and even the most convenient and painless ways to remove unwanted hair.
Marcia was silent at key times as she wondered whether Anne and Rebecca
were staging this conversation for Allie's benefit.
	There was a brief pause at a street corner where Marcia turned down
the block on which she lived.  Anne and Rebecca made every effort to
include Allie in the conversation but he was mortified when they talked
about taking control of boys while making out in the movies, but only to
first base, then embarrassing the same boy by making him cum on his pants
and then calling him a pervert and walking away or even slapping his face.
Allie's mortification soon changed to fascination as he wondered if he
could do the same.  It's just a step further into tasting the power that
girls have.
	"I'm going to be alone tonight so why don't you come over for a
study session, just the two of us.  My mom is taking my sister shopping
downtown.  The little pest won an award so my mom's taking her out for
dinner and to buy her a new outfit.  I could've gone with them but I really
didn't want to give the little pest a chance to gloat so I'm staying home."
Anne glanced at Allie as she addressed her proposal to Rebecca.
	"I would love to study with you but I have to go visiting with my
mom.  Sorry."
	A brief silence ensued.  Anne bumped Allie with her hip as her face
lit up.
	"Say, Allie, why don't you come over?  We can get to know each
other better.  That's a swell way to get to know each other better since
we're all going to be friends."
	"I'd love to but are you sure it's okay with your mom?"
	"Probably not, but who's going to tell her?  See you around seven."
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Allie sat at the small desk in his bedroom doing his homework.  He
might have read or sketched after school but he wanted to be free of any
serious responsibilities before his study date with Anne.  He needed to get
everything out of the way before dinner.  He finished his geometry
problems, and then got up to stretch.  Might as well set the table for
dinner and get that out of the way.  On his way back to his bedroom, he
caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.  Allie stepped in to
study his reflection.  Like so many teens, he was never satisfied; except
Allie's concerns were the opposite of those of most boys.  He never wanted
to have to shave.  Running his finger tips lightly over his skin, he was
delighted to find not the least trace of facial hair.  He unbuttoned his
shirt and smiled at the lack of body hair.  That pesky fine down on his
legs was no more than most girls have to cope with.  Still, Allie feared
that one day he might have to start scraping his face.  The thought
repelled him.
	Back at his desk, Allie translated some very sophisticated and
grammatically complex paragraphs from classic French literature.  Then he
practiced his typing.  As he typed, an air of malaise struck.  His lack of
social confidence returned.
	Allie decided to phone Marcia and get some advice from her.
	"Hi Marcia.  It's Allie.  What do girls do when they have study
dates together?"
	"Depends if it's a crowd or if it's just a couple of close friends,
really, really close friends. They talk girl stuff like clothes and
underthings and how to get over on boys.  You know, get them to pay for
sodas and movies, like you got Ron to do.  We talk about the easiest ways
to stop boys when they get too fresh.  Okay, you're not going to believe
this but sometimes we practice French kissing on each other."
	"What's French kissing?"
	"You are so, so naïve. French kissing is when use your tongue in
each other's mouth^Å"
	"I'm supposed to go over to Anne's tonight to study."
	"Well, go for it, girl.  Oh sorry, should've said guy or something
like that.  Just be careful."
	"That's okay.  Why should I be careful?"
	"Because Anne and Rebecca might use you to get back at Barbara and
also at Ron.  They both deserve it, especially from you so it's really no
big deal as long as you know what's going on and if you call all the shots.
	"Allie, I'm your friend, maybe; but I'm not your big sister.  You
start figuring things out on your own."
	The boy smiled as he hung up the phone.
	If that's how you feel, Marcia honey, okay for you.  You were
pretty swell getting me to see who I'm really supposed to be, but if you're
going to be like that, I don't need you and I don't need to sit with you
and your friends. Anyhow, Ann and Rebecca are much more the kind of girls,
or should I say ladies, I really want to be like.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Anne held the door open for Allie as she eyed him up and down.
	"Come on in."  It was both an invitation and a command.
	Anne latched the door behind Allie and slipped the safety chain
into place.  She took Allie's hand as if to lead him further into the
apartment. To Allie's surprise, Anne pulled him toward with surprising
strength.  Anne's lips skimmed over Allie's as she dropped his hand.
	She led the way to her bedroom near the end of the hall.  She
flipped the light switch and closed the window blinds.  "You're my guest so
you take the chair and I'll sit on the bed."
	Anne didn't wait for Allie to respond but nudged him into the chair
and dropped onto the bed.  She sat on the edge of the bed, wiggled to the
middle, and then, to Allie's shock folded her legs so that she was sitting
like a yogi in a near lotus position.  The smile she gave Allie told him
that she was quite aware that he could see her panty crotch and that she
was going to make no effort to adjust her skirt to a more modest position.
	"Stop looking so shocked.  Lots of girls don't mind if their
girlfriends get to see things.  Allie, I don't mean to upset you but you
know you really would like to be one of us.  Well, maybe not really one of
us, but more like us than^Åwell, you know what I mean.  That's really not
so bad and Rebecca and I are okay with that `cause you're so nice and all.
Just get used to it and Rebecca and I will take good care of you.
	"Now for what you came here for. Conjugate the verb etre."

	Half an hour later they were seated side by side on the floor with
their backs propped against the bed.  They had quizzed each other on French
and on world history, the two subjects they were being tested on later in
the week.  Suddenly Anne rolled Allie onto his side and began tickling him.
	"Stop, Anne, please.  You're making me pee."
	"Well it's not showing through your jeans."
	"I really didn't pee very much, just a drop or two."
	"Just change your underpants.  You know you want to and you know
you'll be more comfortable, less self-conscious."
	"No!  There's really need to; I'm not really wet.  Besides, how can
I do that with nothing for me to change to?"
	"Just borrow a pair of my panties.  No one will notice plain white
cotton.  Besides, who will see them except you and me?"
	"I just can't.  Hey, why do you think you would get to see them
anyhow?"
	"Allie, you know you want to. I swear I won't tell a soul.  You're
skin will get all irritated if you stay in those damp things.  Just slip
off your shoes and stand up.  And I'll get to see your panties because I
have to show you how to put them on like a real girl does."
	Allie felt the heat in his face as he blushed.  Still he nodded and
shivered with the anticipation of donning Anne's panties, wearing them
under his boy clothes.
	She undid his jeans as he stepped out of his shoes.  Allie's jeans
fell slowly to his ankles.  His eyes brightened flirtatiously as he stepped
out of them and kicked them aside.  Anne turned her back to him as she
opened her dresser and took out a pair of white cotton panties.
	Allie took them from her and shifted awkwardly.  He had no idea how
to tell front from back with no fly.
	"Hold them by the waist band.  Keep the waistband between your
finger tips, use just your thumb and pointer.  See?  The back is fuller."
	He nodded dumbly.  Anne, losing patience, yanked his briefs down.
She picked them up between her thumb and forefinger.
	"I'll throw these down the incinerator while you get into the
panties as best you can."
	Allie was relieved that she had left him alone while put on the
panties.  It was odd, he thought, that he felt less awkward, more natural
standing nude from the waist down in front of this attractive girl than he
felt changing for gym in the boys' locker room.
	Anne returned a couple of minutes later.  She studied Allie and
nodded approvingly.  "Allie, you are so keen! You have great legs and a
cute butt.  Wow.  So many girls would love to have your legs and that
deliciously tight tush.
	"You know you did pretty well getting those panties on but you've
got to learn to get them over your tush just right.  Watch how I do it."
	With that said Anne raised her skirt, hooked her thumbs under her
panty hem and adjusted them over her very shapely bottom. Allie, except for
raising his skirt, mimicked her move to perfection.
	  "Great! Allie it's like you've been doing this forever.  Say, I
bet you've been practicing in private."
	"Yes."  He blushed as she spoke.  "Please don't think I'm being
silly but I always feel so envious when girls do that in a swimsuit."
	"Why should you feel jealous of girls?  I just told you how great
your legs and tush are.  Zillions of girls would be jealous of what you
have going for you."
	"Yeah, sure.  And zillions of girls would give their eye teeth for
that all that great stuff you have in their."  Allie nodded toward Anne's
open wardrobe closet.  "How can you afford a wardrobe like that?"
	Anne answered somewhat awkwardly.
	"Oh that stuff.  A lot of it is hand-me-downs and some of it I buy
with money I earn."
	"Gee, you must have a really great summer job.  Wish I could earn
money like that."
	"Who knows? Maybe you can."
	They let drop their discussion of Anne's costly and extensive
wardrobe.

	Allie, still wearing only panties and his shirt, sat on the floor
as he thought about what Anne had said. The boy squirmed, drew his legs to
his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees.
	"You really are going to give me a swelled head.  I guess you're
right but it takes more than legs and a tush to be like a girl."
	"Of course it does, but try looking in the mirror; I mean really
looking, looking so you can see who's looking back at you.  It won't take
much for you to fool anyone into believing you're a girl.  I'm talking
about making people think you're a real girl and not just as a boy who
looks so much like a girl that they're not sure what they're looking at."
	Anne took Allie by the hand and raised him to his feet.  She shoved
him back so that he was seated on the edge of her bed.  Anne reached for
her comb and brush and set to work on Allie's dark brown hair. In a very
few minutes she held a hand mirror in front of him.  The effect was
incredible.  It was that of a very pretty teen with a short but oh so
feminine hair style.  This girl wore no makeup but she really didn't need
any.
	"See what I mean?" asked Anne triumphantly.
	"Oh my gosh," was all that Allie could get out.  "Is that really
me?"
	"See, it didn't take much at all.  With a little lipstick and
eye-liner you'll be totally luscious!"
   	Allie was so absorbed in studying his reflection that he was almost
unaware that Anne had clipped a pair of earrings onto his perfectly shaped
ears.  It wasn't that this was Allie looking more femme than usual.  It was
an entirely new being, a girl who bore only the slightest resemblance to
Allan.  She might have been a sister or a cousin but no one could possibly
confuse this new Allie with drab insecure Allan.
	"Don't move.  I'll be right back."
	Anne reappeared an instant later dangling a white brassiere from
her finger tip.
	"It's my sister's brassiere. Don't worry. She won't notice we have
it because I took it from our laundry hamper.  I want to see something fro
a second or two.  Just get up."
	Anne eased the boy's shirt down Allie's arms and let if fall to the
floor.  She stood behind Allie, held the bra in front of him as she slipped
the straps over his arms.  He moaned softly as Anne fastened the hooks.
His cock began to rise against the cotton panties, cotton so much finer, so
much lighter than the boy briefs he never felt right wearing.
	Anne guided him to the full length mirror on the inside of her
door.  Allie gasped. With the outline of his cockhead visible through the
virginal white panties and with not the least bit of makeup, the image
reflected in the mirror was unquestionably that of a slender small breasted
girl.
	Allie quivered as she felt Anne's breath on his neck.  She massaged
his nipples through the padding of the bra.  Her hand drifted down to his
panty front and lightly squeezed his balls.
	Anne now stood before him as she placed her hands on his shoulders
and pushed him to his knees.
	"Undo my skirt."
	She wore no slip.
	Allie lay on his back and reached up to Anne's breasts as she knelt
over him easing his panties far enough down to expose his cock, he rose to
full erection.
	The boy squirmed as he felt her hair glide over his thighs and his
tummy as she leaned close, as her tongue flicked a drop of precum into her
mouth.  A whimper as Anne grasped his cock in her fist and ran her tongue
around the rim of the head.  Tentatively at first, she put her open mouth
over his cockhead.  She drew back partly from fear of this unknown yet
longed for experience, partly to prolong the delight.  Her eyes ravished
Allie as she continued to grasp his dick.  His slender body, almost
hairless was so much like a girl's, while his rampant, precum oozing prick
gave him a surreal allure that was neither that of a boy nor of a girl but
more desirable than either could ever be.  Anne's movements were no longer
tentative as she closed her lips over Allie's cockhead. Her hand began to
massage his shaft while her other hand grasped his balls through the flimsy
cotton of the panties he wore.
	A triumphant glow came over Anne as Allie erupted into her mouth.
She greedily milked his penis, savoring every drop as she realized she
might never want a boy other than one as androgynous as the boy who lay
spent.  Annie was about to tell Allie how wonderful it was to feel him
through his panties but starting giggling as she realized they weren't his
at all but her own.  Could it be that she could seduce Allie into wearing
panties almost all the time?
	Her mood changed as she recalled that she and Rebecca wanted to use
Allie to embarrass both Ron and Barb.  A fleeting pang of guilt for wanting
to use this sweetly naïve teen who, despite his genital attributes, was so
much more a girl than a boy.  Anne realized she had feelings for Allie,
feelings that were both protective and new, new in ways she couldn't
define.  She was certain that Allie would be an enthusiastic participant in
the scheme she and Rebecca had hatched.  This was definitely not the time
to ask.
	Fortunately Anne happened to glance between the drawn curtains into
the street.
	"Oh, shit!  It's my mom and that brat sister of mine.  Mother will
ground me if she doesn't kill me first.  She's so worried about what people
will think if I have a boy in when I'm home alone.
	"Take off that brassiere.  We've got to work fast, really fast or
I'm as good as dead."
	Anne rushed to throw her sister's training bra into the laundry
hamper.  "Slip this on, quickly," Anne ordered as she flung one of her bras
at Allie before rushing out of the room.  "And this also."  A panty girdle
followed the bra.
	He had the bra on by the time Anne returned a few seconds later and
was trying to ease his hips and genitals into the panty girdle.
	"This bra looks so silly.  How can I possible fill it out?"
	"Use these.  I was a late bloomer."  Anne answered as she slipped a
pair of breast forms into the bra and made a few slight adjustments so that
Allie's upper body took on the proportions of a flawlessly shaped girl his
own age.  She pushed his male endowments between his legs and tugged the
girdle into place.
	"Okay, just get into your jeans and this sweater." She raced from
the room once again as Allie slipped on the powder blue v-neck.  Allie
heard the front door chain being undone.
	"Sit down," she barked.  He watched his reflection in fascination
as Anne applied lipstick to his mouth and blotted it with a tissue.
	"Don't move."
	"Whatever is that thing?"  Allie pointed to a length of hair Anne
pulled from her vanity table drawer and held poised above his head.
	"It's a fall."  She used a pair of combs to attach the fall to
Allie's hair.  Had he not been restrained by the tight panty girdle, he
would have become hard at his own totally female appearance.

	"Mother, I need some fresh air I'm going to walk Allie down to the
corner.  Do you want me to bring back the newspaper or anything?"
	"No, dear, but thank you for asking.  Allie, it was so good to meet
you.  You really are a charmer."
	 The pair burst into giggles as they rode the elevator down to the
lobby.
	Allie's disappointment showed on his face when Anne took her fall
from his head.
	"Relax, honey.  We'll go shopping and get you your own fall.  Of
course you'll have to dress as a girl when we do it."  She smiled playfully
at Allie who was now secure enough in his own femininity to tilt his head
to the side and laugh.
	"I just hope it won't only be a fall that I'll be shopping for
dressed as a girl."
	As soon as they were out of the dimly lit lobby, Anne took Allie's
hand in her own.  The pair paused and turned to face each other.
	"Allie, you are so super yummy."
	They kissed without hugging but not without intimacy.
	The kiss ended and not an instant too soon.  A few seconds later a
car drove slowly by honking as it passed them.  It was Ron.
	Anne waved enthusiastically.
	"Relax, girl.  That clod hasn't the foggiest idea of who you really
are.  Just a second.  Not that you really need this to attract boys; it's
just that it'll help that sap from figuring out what you are when you're
not Allie, the girl."
	A few seconds later the fall was back in place framing Allie's
features and obliterating even the remotest chance that Ron would associate
this delightful girl with the ineffectual Allen.  It would be more accurate
to say the no longer ineffectual Allen whose self-possessed attitude had
made Ron back away from his bullying stance earlier in the day.
	Allie looked pensive for a moment or two and then smiled in oddly
serious way.
	"Anne, love, this who I really am.  That Allan person, that loser
of a boy you think you know is just a temporary pose."
	Allie made her way down the street. With it being close to ten on a
week night there would be few teens still on the street.  A smirk crossed
Allie's face.
	I think I'll go by the soda fountain and get a magazine or two.
Almost no one will be there so it's a good time to test the real me.

	Allie walked into the empty store and stood in front of the
magazine rack.  The owner, an older refugee woman, smiled at her.
	"You're a new one around here, Miss.  A girl who carries herself
like a real lady like you do is always welcome."
	"Thank you, Ma'am."
	Mrs. Kaplan had a reputation for figuring people out at first
glance.  That she viewed Allie as a girl boosted the teen's confidence.
	The emerging girl reached for a copy of Seventeen and flipped
through the pages.  She closed it suddenly lest she give herself by
blushing at the ads for bras and panty girdles.
	Mrs. Kaufman smiled pleasantly at Allie and put down the newspaper
she was reading.
	"You look so pretty, like such a nice person, too.  A girl like you
must be very careful of who she let's herself be alone with."  English was
clearly not Mrs. Kaufman's first language.  "There were many, many girls
like you in Berlin before the Nazis came.  Believe me, I lived through it
all.  And it wasn't just the Nazis.  Plenty of people will hurt those they
don't understand.  You hear me?"
	"I promise I'll be careful.  And Mrs. Kaufman, thank you for
caring."
	As Allie spoke, she glanced down at the paper Mrs. Kaufman had been
reading.  The headline told of a college age boy who was found dead.  He
was clad only in panties when his body was discovered!
	That's awful.  It's like they think people will gloat over the
death of that boy. Mrs. Kaufman knew I'm really a boy and she accepted me
for it and even tried to give me a friendly warning.  I guess there are
some good people, people who can accept girls like me.  But are there
places where we can live safely as who we are?  And would I fit in?
	Allie paid Mrs. Kaplan and left the soda fountain.  Ron entered
just in time to hold the door for Allie who gave him a smile by way of
thanks.  Ron hurriedly bought a pack of cigarettes and called to Allie as
he tried to catch up to her.
	"Are you calling me?"
	"Yeah.  Say, I know you from someplace but where?  Or is that you
remind of someone?"
	"Well, I've been to lots of places so suppose you tell me who I
remind you of."
	"I^ÅI don't know but^Å"
	"You don't know!  Really, I have no time to waste on boys with
stale pickup lines."
	Ron was as disconcerted as he was when Allie, still in the guise of
Allan, had stood up to him in school.  Allie, seeing the confusion and
discomfort on Ron's face began to enjoy herself immensely.
	"Look, it's late.  Let me give you lift home."
	"Why do you think I need a lift?  Do I look like I can't walk on my
own?  Or is it that you think I can't take care of myself?"
	"No, no.  I just thought it would be a nice way for us to get to
know each other."
	"But you just said you know me from some place.  Well, you seem
harmless enough so I will let you drive me home."
	Ron cringed at being called `harmless' by Allie.  The macho boy's
face betrayed to Allie that she had stuck home with her condescending
acceptance of his offer of a ride. She smiled at him, but her smile was
more like that of a vampire bearing her teeth at her next victim than that
of a flirtatious teen.
	Allie was inwardly beaming as Ron held the passenger door open for
her.  (No, `she' and `her' are not typos.  We'll give Allie the courtesy of
recognizing a truly femme trannie as female when she's dressed.)  He walked
around to the driver's side and got in.  Awkwardly, Ron reached toward
Allie's fall.
	"You've got pretty hair."
	"Thanks but I'll thank you not to touch my hair or any other part
of me.  Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
	"Yes.  I'm sorry."
	"Not nearly as sorry as you'll be if you try to get fresh."
	Ron nodded, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking
space.
	"Where to?"
	Allie gave him directions to her street but told him to park a few
houses away from her own.
	She leaned over and brought her face close to Ron's.  He squirmed
as he felt the girl/boy's breath on his neck.
	"I do want to thank you for being so nice and for respecting me for
being a lady."
	Her lips brushed over his as her hand slid over his lap.  Ron
started to put his arms around her but stopped as he felt her hand grasp
his balls through his jeans.
	"Try anything and I'll rip them off."
	He yelped as her tightening grip told him she was not to be taken
lightly.  To his surprise and embarrassment his cock was stiffening as this
petite girl took physical and emotional control of what should have been an
easy and anonymous petting session.
	"I think you like this," said Allie disdainfully.  "Poor dear is
all hot and bothered.  Let me help you."
	Ron moaned in anticipation as Allie unzipped his jeans and wrapped
her hand over his cock.  Again, her lips brushed over his but no kiss
followed.  Her fingers circled the rim of the anguished boy's cockhead and
then pulled away. Suddenly Ron's cock twitched and spurted cum all over the
front of his jeans.
	"That was wild," panted Ron.
	"Thanks again, Ron."  "No need to thank me.  You just came.  Too
bad you were so quick.  It could have been fun."
	Ron was taken back by the girl's disdainful comment.
	"Can I see you again?"
	"You will, if you're lucky."
	"Give me your number so I can phone you"
	"No need to call me.  You might just hear from me if I'm in the
mood."
	"But how will you know how to get in touch with me?"
	"Call it feminine intuition."  As she spoke Allie kissed her finger
tips, moved her hand near Ron's mouth and then, much to Ron's
disappointment, placed her finger tips on his cheeks.  She slid out of the
car, turned, leaned in the door.
	"Just drive off now.  There'll be hell to pay if my folks think I
accepted a ride home in a car driven by a strange boy, a very strange boy."
Again, that predatory smile caused Ron to wince.
	She waited and Ron had turned the corner before walking down the
street to the two family house where she lived with her mother.
 ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Allie showered and got into bed.  He reclined against his pillow as
he studied the articles and ads in "Seventeen."  He felt his penis twitch
and begin to rise as he thought about the wonderful sensations that must
come with donning these pretty garments, with admiring one's image in a
full length mirror.  The awakening girl within could hardly wait to
experiment with the power and control she knew she would wield once she
learned the flirtatiously modest postures he had so long envied in real
girls.
	A tap on his door precipitated a momentary and very minor crisis.
Should he allow his mother to see him reading, studying would be a more
accurate word, a girls' magazine?  Of course he should.  Mother had always
been supportive of his gentle ways so there was no reason to hide Allie
from her.  He would take his chances and not hide the magazine.  Mummy
would find out sooner or later.  She always did.  He really wanted her to
know now.
	"Come in, Mummy"
	He smiled at her.  She was elegant and sexy in her robe that
concealed her from midcalf to her neckline.
	"I saw your light on so I thought I would come in to say
good-night." She couldn't help but notice the magazine. Allie had left it
face up and open to a full page ad showing a slender girl in a matching bra
and panty set while she held in both hands the panty girdle that
complemented the ensemble.
	"That is such an adorable color," mother smiled as she spoke.  "I
think you really would like to wear an ensemble of underthings like these.
I`m right, aren't I?"
	Allie nodded sheepishly.
	"Darling, I'm so glad we're having this talk.  When you were little
I wondered if you might be happier as a girl but lots of boys seem that way
and later give it up only to live in desperation as they pretend to be
something they're not.  I just had to give you the chance to be a boy."
	Mother's eyes teared as she and Allie shared their feelings.
	"We really should spend a weekend at a nice beach resort town
somewhere; a long weekend as mother and daughter.  That'll give you the
chance to spend some time being who you were really meant to be and to
experiment with different attitudes.  We can find time to visit a ladies
specialty shop that caters to teens as well as young women.  Relax, my
darling.  Ever since you were a toddler I've suspected that the real you
was more girl than boy; no, not really suspected.  I've always known deep
inside that you would be a happier, better person as a girl.  This was
something that you had to discover for yourself, something that had to come
from within you and not from me.  It would have been destructive of me to
push you into being a girl when so many boys go through a stage where they
test out girls' roles and then move on.  I'm so very glad for us both that
you didn't move on, that you're returning to your real self.
	"You just have to be very careful who knows this until you finish
high school this spring."
	Again, Allie nodded.
	"You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable but why
did you choose this moment to accept who you are?"
	"Some stuff happened in school and I just decided I would stop
running away when I got teased or pushed around.  I stood up to a bully and
he backed off.  He even tried making it up to me.
	  "Most of all I realized I'm tired of running away from my real
self and I was going to start being me even if it's just a little bit at a
time.
	"Mommy, do you want to hear how I tricked the bully and how I'm
going to fix him once and for all?"
	When Allie finished the story of his day, Mother hugged him.
	"I'm so proud of my special teen, my very special girl."
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	The next was morning was sunny and mild.  Allie and Anne met in
front of the school.  Anne smiled as she approached Allie.  The girl/boy
wore a sweater low on his shoulders creating a shawl like effect.  The
effect, underscored by the way Allie carried her schoolbooks against her
chest, enhanced the teen's newly open femme style.
	Anne giggled as Allie handed her a small paper bag with the fall in
it.  She was in stitches as Allie told her of getting a ride home from Ron.
	"The poor chump couldn't figure out where he knew me from.  He was
so embarrassed but nearly as much as when he went off as soon as I touched
his cock."
	"That is so nifty.  Allie, you are simply super.  You've got to
tell Rebecca this whole story."
	The three sat chatting on the school steps as Ron walked toward
them only to be intercepted by Barb.  The former couple stood chatting and
from Ron's shifting posture it was evident to Allie and the others that
Barb was successfully exploiting her not inconsiderable feminine wiles.
	"Watch me break this up."  There was mischief in Allie's eye.
	"Hey lover!" She all but shouted to Ron.
	Barb's face froze and she turned to Allie.
	"Are you talking to me, you pathetic^Å?"
	"Well, I'm so pleased to meet you Miss Pathetic.  I'm Allie. The
answer to your question, Miss Pathetic, is no.  I'm talking to Ron."
	"Are you going to take that from that, that person who gave you
such a hard time yesterday?"
	Ron was totally flummoxed.  He didn't want to alienate Barb, not
when she was being so seductive.  Neither did he want to alienate Allie
who, by defying him, aroused feelings that were totally new, totally alien
to what he believed possible, and totally overwhelming.  Fortunately Barb
made the decision for him.
	"Ron, if you have to think about what to do when I'm being so
forgiving you can totally forget about us dating ever again."
	She turned and flounced away.
	"Ron, come sit with us."
	Rebecca's invitation helped Ron save face by allowing him an excuse
for not trotting after Barb.  The two genetic girls moved over so that Ron
ended up sitting between Allie and Anne.  To his amazement he felt really
good about being so close to Allie.  Anne and Rebecca got up and left the
unusual couple to chat by themselves.
	"Ron, sweetie, I want to apologize for last night."
	Ordinarily Ron would have taken offense at being called sweetie by
another boy but his feelings for Allie were certainly unlike nay he had
ever had for a boy before now.
	"I don't get it.  Nothing happened between us last night.  Did it?"
	"Oh, yes it did.  I was such a tease.  I really should have told
you where you knew me from."
	"That was you!  Oh, shit.  Allie that's awful.  It's not that I
don't care about you.  I mean as a friend.  It's just that I'm, well,
getting turned on by you.  I'm scared of going queer.  Hell, I've said too
much so I better shut up. Just forget last night and forget everything I
just said."
	"Ron, what does it matter about being queer or not?  Don't you
think that we can have a better time together than you ever could with Barb
making a fool of you on regular basis?
	"I'm not asking you to say anything now. Just think about how
things might stand between us; not only now but down the road. Suppose you
phone me tonight and then you can come over my house or we can meet
somewhere."
	Ron was silent for a few minutes.
	"That'll be swell.  If you can be your own person, so can I."
	"Really?  I hope so.  Of course if you think being my friend, my
special friend means you're turning queer you can always crawl back to
Barb."

	They spoke for a long time that night. Allie ended the call with a
question.
	"How would you like me to dress when we're together?"
	"Like whatever you need to be."
	"Thanks awfully for feeling that way.  Good night, Ron."
	"Good night, Allie.  I'm glad we're friends."
	"Ron, I was hoping we could be more than just friends.  Say, what
color panties would you like to see on a girl?  And I do mean see!  Give it
some thought.  Night, sweetie."
	Allie hung up the phone knowing her last question had left Ron with
lots of food for fantasy.  He would doubtlessly being thinking about what
Allie might look like in every different color panty he could imagine.
	Poor dear will have to get himself before he can fall asleep.
Pity. Such a waste of good love juice.  I totally love playing that sap for
the fool he is.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Allie was right.  Ron did think of Allie dressed totally in the
cutest femme underthings.  He physically resisted but Allie's unique brand
of femininity made him her willing victim.  In his fantasy, the aroused Ron
stared hungrily at the outline of Allie's cock through the silken sheen of
her panties.  His fantasy ended as his cock erupted violently.  He wiped
his cum from his body with his fingers and slowly licked them clean.  His
sleep was deep and peaceful.  For all that he awoke with a sense of
agitation.
	What in hell is going with me?  First I let Allie trick me into
thinking she's a girl and she even makes me cum in my jeans.  See what I
mean?  I'm even thinking of Allie like that fruit's girl!  Then instead of
being pissed off when she tells me it was her I end up thinking about her,
him, cock and all while I get myself off and that makes me shoot one of the
wildest loads ever.  But, I'm not queer. I can't be.  Shit, I gotta do
something.  I know.  Mom's cousin Lorna is a psychiatrist or a
psychologist; some kind of shrink.  She always liked me and she said I can
call her any time if I need to talk about whatever's on my mind.  Yeah,
that's it.  I'll call Lorna.

	"It's really nice of you to let me see you like this.  I guess
Saturday is a real busy time for you."
	"I reserve Saturday mornings for my patients who are in crisis or
who need extra sessions.  You're not my patient but you said you need to
talk.  And you can relax.  I won't say a word to your mom, not even that
you were here."
	Lorna's feedback made Ron feel good.  His inhibitions melted away
at least for the time they were together.  If Ron realized how effeminate
his gestures and his body language were becoming, he might have pulled back
into the hard guy, pseudo-masculine shell that was such a well practiced
part of the mask he wore.
	"Ron, honey, you don't really need therapy.  What you need is just
some reassurance that what you're discovering about yourself is okay.  It's
the way people react to it that's so terribly wrong.
	"However, and this is important; you must be very careful that
you're not to be found out in school or there can be real problems as well
as physical attacks.  But if you're prudent you can get through the rest of
the year and graduate.  Then you can go on with your life as who you need
to be, to love the kinds of people you need to love.  If you don't take the
right path you'll end up an unhappy, self-loathing, and hateful man.  Just
don't push any decision.  You're about to embark on a voyage of
self-discovery so be open to all sorts of undreamed of possibilities.
	"You can come and see me any time you feel you need to talk.  How
about if I show you some of the places in this part of town where men and
women who are, let's say different, are perfectly acceptable?  You may even
find that Allie isn't as unique as you think."
	Lorna dismissed Ron with the promise that they would get together
the following Saturday but later in the morning when Lorna could leave her
office and take him to lunch.

	Ron walked slowly toward the subway station pausing to study the
unusual clothing and jewelry offered in the myriad of small shops in this
unfamiliar part of town.  Alongside so many of these shops were doorways
leading to stairs to the upper floors which seemed to house dance schools
and the like and in one building, a school of self-defense.  The thought of
girls being able to fend off unwanted advances or beat an attacker into
oblivion was something that gave Ron the chills.  It also aroused something
in him that couldn't quite fathom.  He only knew that this was not at all
an unpleasant sensation.
	He glanced around as he waited for a traffic light to change and
noticed two very familiar looking girls at a distance.  He was almost
certain it was Anne and Rebecca.  Curiosity got the better of him and so he
walked down the street to see what sort of shop they had gone into.
"Sappho Café & Books."  He wondered what or who Sappho was and decided to
stop at the library to look it up in the library near the train station at
home.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	It felt strange to Ron to be going to the library with no purpose
other than to satisfy his curiosity about Sappho.  Libraries, like book
shops, held no attraction for the undirected teen.  He thought he should be
hanging out, playing ball in the schoolyard or at the playground.  No one
he knew or thought anything of would be in a library on a fine spring
afternoon.  So much the better, he thought. Less chance of being seen here
by anyone he knows.
	He walked up the stairs to the second floor where reference books
were located. An open door allowed him to see into the reading room as he
neared the landing.  A quick glance around the tables didn't yield what he
had hoped for; feminine thighs under a carelessly arrayed skirt or better
still, a glimpse of stocking top.  No one was seated at the reading room
tables.  Then he noticed a pair of the most exquisitely formed ankles he
had ever seen.  Whoever it was had, in keeping with the mild spring day,
left off her crew socks and was wearing only Keds style sneakers.  He
stared at the smooth but firm calves.
	Ron hesitated as the legs moved so that he could see the white
Jamaica shorts that offered a generous view of the girl's shapely thighs.
It had to be a girl.  No boy had so slender yet shapely hips and butt. She
bent forward, knelt down to retrieve something from a low shelf.  She had
to be wearing white panties. Any other color would have been too obvious
under the light fabric of her Jamaica shorts.  A twinge of agitation ran
through him as panty lines began to show.  His mouth opened as he inhaled
at the sight of the semi-circle of the crotch seam.
	He paused until the girl seated herself at a reading table and
crossed her legs.  If she was half as attractive as her legs promised, she
would be spectacular.  Ron chuckled inwardly at his conversation with
Lorna.  No way was he going to explore being anything other than a guy who
was very into girls and nothing else. That attraction those legs and that
cute butt held for him were proof of what he was meant to be.
	Time to really check this one out up close.  Yeah, this proves I'm
not queer `cause I'm being turned on by a real girl not some messed up
faggot like Allie.  Then why am I thinking about Allie even now?
	Ron really couldn't see her face as she sat half turned in the
chair, her hand in her short hair.  She turned at the sound of Ron entering
the room.  The girl's warm smile would have been enough to melt him except
for one thing; it was Allie who smiled up at him!
	Ron's heart began to pound as he tried very hard to deny to himself
that he was still turned on despite the fact that it was Allie, the fag
whose legs and butt had gotten him so interested.
	"I gotta go, Allie."
	"Are you okay, Ron?  You look pale like you just had a shock or
you're getting sick or something."
	"Don't worry about it.  I'm okay."
	"Then why not sit and talk?  There's no need to be afraid that one
of your friends will see you with me, not on a nice day like this when
they're all outside acting like a bunch of oafs
	"Maybe some other time.  I gotta go."
	"Go ahead then.  Join the other oafs."
	Ron all but fled the library. He had completely forgotten about
looking up `Sappho.'
	Allie smiled triumphantly.
	That sap is totally lost.  He doesn't know what he wants, who he is
or where he's going.  Acted like I didn't know why he was so flustered.  He
got the hots and then he realized it was me.  I can read him like a book;
not only him but also every other drip who can't admit to themselves that
they really need something more than a real girl.  Well, I'm going to learn
to take them for all they're worth and in the process I might just find a
lover who's worth having.

	Ron sat on the wall of the narrow garden in front of the library
and lit a cigarette.  His reverie was different from Allie's but they
shared a common theme.
	Okay, so I got all hot and bothered over Allie's butt.  So what?
That doesn't make me a queer.  Shit.  She, damn it!  Why am I saying `she'
when Allie's not even a girl?  And why the hell am I getting a hard-on just
thinking about her?  There I go again with `her.'  Ron's eyes began to fill
up with tears as he fought to avoid coming to a frightening conclusion, but
rationalization I always a convenient way of facing what some would think
of as reality.  What if I do think of Allie as a girl?  She's more like a
girl should be than Barb.  I gotta talk some more with Lorna. Yeah, that's
it.  Didn't she say something about Allie being not so unusual?  Yeah, she
did.  So there are probably guys, lots of guys who like girls like Allie.
Yeah, that's it!  It isn't the same as being queer for a guy when it's a
guy like Allie who isn't really a guy at all.
	He tossed his cigarette on the sidewalk, smiled openly and headed
home.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


	Allie arrived home from the library to find this note from his
mother.

				Dear Allie:
			One of your teachers, Miss Preston, phoned and
			asked that you call her as soon as you can.  She
sounded
			very positive about a possible job offer.
			Love,
			Mom


	Allie wasted no time in phoning Miss Preston.

	It was a very enthusiastic boy/girl who sprang at Mommy as soon as
she walked in the door.  She threw her arms around her mother's neck and
kissed her, more intimately than Mommy expected.  She disengaged herself
from her child's arms and stepped back.
	"Whoa! Just calm down and tell me about your phone conversation
with Miss Preston.  No doubt the news is good."
	"Oh, yes, ever so good news!  Miss Preston wants me to meet her for
lunch tomorrow so she can tell me about the job she's lined up for me, but
only if I want it.  There'll be some other ladies there too.  She asked me
to bring you if you would like to hear about it.  You see, I can be a sort
of shop assistant on weekends until after graduation.  It's a little shop,
boutiques she called it, than specializes in original jewelry and
accessories, whatever that means, and then, if things work out to
everyone's liking, I can go away over the summer to this wonderful little
town she talked about and, and, well, I can be the real me all I want.
It's just so exciting."
	"Allie, honey, I think you should meet Miss Preston tomorrow
without me.  I'm sure we would have ever so much fun together but this is
your opportunity to launch yourself into a world you've always been
interested in, an interest you felt you had to hide.  I do want to be
supportive of you but I also don't want you ever to think that you have to
please me or that I tried to influence your choices.  Of course I'll have
to approve any arrangements that you make."
	"Oh, Mommy, thank you, thank you."
	 Allie hugged Mommy and kissed her cheek but somehow her eyes
closed as her lips drifted over Mommy's.  Their mouths started to open.
Mommy started to push Allie away from her but even as she did her mouth
remained open over Allie's lips.  Their bodies moved further away from each
other's and so their lips had to separate.
	Allie smiled at Mommy in total innocence.  The older woman's heart
was pounding as she tasted a blend of arousal and guilt over the forbidden
desire of responding to the sexuality of this newly created boy/girl.  She
playfully patted Allie's tush.  "Now go shower and lie down before
dinner. Would you like to go out for Chinese?"
	She drew a long, audible breath as she realized her hand was
lingering too long on Allie's firm little bottom and that what she felt
under her finger tips could only be the curved seam of the crotch of a
girl's panties.
	Oh, dear!  She's further along than I thought she would ever be at
her age.  I pray she can continue as Allan at least part time until after
graduation. But remaining too long in her boy persona may undo the strides
she's trying to make now.  Is there a school somewhere that will accept her
as she was meant to be?
	"Mommy, I'm not in the mood for Chinese tonight.  Why don't you
take a warm bath and later I'll make us omelets with a nice salad.  If this
were a movie we would have a glass of white wine to go with it."
	"Well, darling, this isn't a movie but seeing as how special
tomorrow is we can drink a toast to your future, I'll take the hint.  Would
you like to go to the store and buy a bottle of wine?  I can see by that
look that I had better do it myself."


	Allie whisked the eggs for a minute or two before grinding in some
fresh pepper.  She smiled at Mommy who was opening a bottle of what she
called Riesling.
 	"Mommy, I think a warm baguette would be the right kind of bread
for this.  Problem is I haven't the foggiest notion of where I could buy
one."
	"Certainly not around here."  She paused and sighed.  "Allie,
sweets, as soon as possible after graduation we're going to move away from
this neighborhood."
	Allie's face lit up and then became pensive.
	"We really need to talk."  Mommy poured them each a glass of wine.
"Neither you nor I ever fit in around here, not really.  I just felt I had
to give you time to see if you would ever develop the personality that
society in general thinks belongs with the genitals you were born with.
Even as a toddler, you were more girl than boy.
	"I've sent my resume to a number of small town colleges, small
towns that are largely artists' colonies.  There are a few very good job
prospects all in places where you can be accepted and can try living as
Allie."
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	 It was a fresh faced, radiant Allie who blinked in the bright
spring sunshine of a Sunday morning as she exited the subway station.  She
paused long enough to slip on the gold bracelet that Mommy had given her
along with the admonition to not put it on until after she got off the
subway.  Allie understood all too well the reason for this caution.
Anything too femme would be courting an assault.
	Allie found her way to the small café where she was to meet Miss
Preston for lunch.  She was greeted at the door by a girl who appeared to
be both hostess and waitress.  She was dressed in a blouse and flowing
midcalf length skirt.  Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a
flat pony tail that fell below her shoulders.  Matching copper jewelry
consisting of a bracelet, necklace, and earrings added to the bohemian
impression created by her clothing.
	  She's lovely.  There's something about her that's so different,
so interesting. Oh, I get it!  She's a girl like me.
	As if able to read Allie's mind, the girl smiled knowingly.
	"Allie?  Come with me, please.  Miss Preston said she was expecting
a young guest named Allie.  I'm Riva.  I hope I'll see more of you around
here.  You and I will get on famously, I'm sure."
	Riva led Allie to a table in quiet corner where Miss Preston sat
chatting with a woman seated at a nearby table.  They rose to greet Allie
whose jaw dropped at how different Miss Preston looked in her out of school
attire which consisted of cream colored slacks, a mauve blouse, several
enameled bangle bracelets on one wrist and a silver cuff bracelet set with
an amethyst on the other along with matching earrings that dangled from her
pierced ears.  High heeled opera pumps matched her blouse.
	Miss Preston introduced her companion simply as Verushka.  Miss
Preston's companion said a few words to her in French and rose to leave.
	She studied Allie carefully and then gave her a warm smile. She put
her finger tips to the boy/girl's cheek with a look that was both friendly
and caring.
	"Quite charming, my dear Allie.  You are most attractive but take
care that you don't attract the wrong people.  Take very, very good care of
yourself."
	There was a subtle something in Verushka's statement that led Allie
to believe that think that it was not simply a social nicety but a definite
warning to take care of herself.  Was Verushka's warning her to beware of
Miss Preston or of Verushka or of them both?
	"Allie, don't let that woman get under your skin.  She's just some
leech whom I met in Europe before the war.  Paris and Berlin were full of
those awful Russians; every single one of them claiming to have been
something special before the Revolution.  I was certain I would never see
her again until I ran into her a year or so ago.  As much as I would like
to, I can't seem to be rid of her."

	Miss Preston ordered lunch for herself and Allie without asking
Allie if she might have an opinion of her own regarding what she might like
to eat; Allie was left feeling that Miss Preston was going to force other,
more lasting choices on her.  Was that what Verushka had meant by advising
her to take care of herself?  Miss Preston's overbearing personality style
left Allie with little appetite for food or for listening to Miss Preston's
plans for her.
	Once outside the café, Allie started to thank Miss Preston for
lunch and for her time.
	"Allie, this isn't one of those `don't call us, we'll call you'
interviews.  We know that you'll fit in just fine with what we have planned
for you.  Please don't think you have no say in these plans.  Don't look so
puzzled. Just give it a few minutes.
	"Come, take a stroll with me."
	She slipped her arm through Allie's and off they went.
	They turned of the street and walked along a side street where the
shops and studios gradually gave way to small apartment buildings and late
nineteenth century brownstones, some of which and been converted to
multiple dwellings where each floor was a separate apartment while others
retained their original character.
	Miss Preston stopped in front a large red brick federal period
house on a corner.
	"This is where I live.  Let's go in."
	Allie felt like a tourist as she gawked at the interior of the
building.  The first floor was given over to two offices with entrance
doors on either side of a long corridor with an unmarked door at the end.
This door led to a foyer which led to a sitting room and a dining room
overlooking a well cultivated garden.
	A wide stairway led to the second floor.  A study was filled with
books while one wall was devoted to paintings and drawings.  It was all
quite impressive; perhaps too impressive because Allie began to let her
guard drop.  There were what appeared to be family photographs interspersed
among the books.  Allie was particularly taken by photograph of Miss
Preston at about age ten standing next to a girl about two years older.
Both wore shorts and sailor blouses with straw boater style hats.  They
were both extremely beautiful children.
	Miss Preston bade Allie sit while she answered the phone.  Allie
relaxed while Miss Preston explained the purpose of the call.  "That was
only Verushka.  That woman has a way of calling or showing up at the most
inopportune moments. I really don't know why I put up with her so called
friendship.  We'll talk more about that another time."  That said, Miss
Preston went on to more immediate things.
	"That's me with my brother," announced Miss Preston as she noticed
Allie staring fascinated at the photograph.  "Yes, don't look so shocked.
He was lovely, creative and so rejected."
	Allie nodded.  "How very sad.  I don't mean to pry but why do you
say `was'?"
	"Because he's dead."  Miss Preston's matter of fact, cold tone
brooked no further questions.
	The uncomfortable silence was interrupted by the outside doorbell.
Without asking who was there, Miss Preston spoke into the intercom, "Come
up, Connie."  The sound of the buzzer releasing the front door latch,
footsteps on the stairs.  The door opened and in stepped a unusually
attractive young woman.

	At first Allie wasn't at all sure whether Connie was Constance or
Conrad.  Connie was slender, fair and gave the impression of being rather
tall.  Long graceful fingers carried several rings, some of which were very
contemporary.  Pale blue trousers over ivory flat heeled sandals, a navy
blazer over an off- white silk shirt.
	Miss Preston introduced Connie as a former summer program student
whom she had the good fortune to discover.  As the introductions proceeded
Allie got the distinct impression that Connie was considerably younger than
her sophisticated appearance and airs at first suggested; nineteen or
twenty at the most.
	Connie removed her blazer and hung it over the back of her chair.
The outline of a blue bra showed clearly under the semi-opaque pearl
colored silk of her blouse. After seating herself, she leaned forward to
take a sketchpad from the narrow brief case she carried.  A few pencil
strokes and she turned the sketch pad toward Allie who smiled at how
quickly and in so relatively few lines and a bit of shading here and there
Connie had drawn a very recognizable sketch of her head.
	The young woman again rested the sketchpad on her knees, opened box
of pastels and proceeded to enhance the line sketch as if she were applying
everyday makeup to Allie's image.
	Connie tore of the page and laid it on the coffee table in front of
her.  She again began sketching but more slowly and with more
consideration.  This time Allie gasped at the drawing of the startlingly
attractive girl who, despite the eye makeup and lipstick, was Allie
herself.
	"On my gosh, that's me.  At least I think it's me.  Miss Preston,
can I ever really be so pretty?"
	"Of course you can.  You all ready are."
	Allie sat open mouthed, astounded at the drawing but skeptical that
the face Connie had drawn could ever be her own.
	"Doubtful, are you?" asked Miss Preston.  "I suggest you take a
walk with Connie to her apartment. She'll give you a taste what you can
be."
	The smirk on Miss Preston's face may have been intended to pass as
a pleasant smile but Allie saw it as the triumphant sneer of a predator
that has run down her next meal.  Miss Preston had unwittingly alerted
Allie to danger.

	Connie and Allie walked along the tree shaded back streets. Allie,
anxious about the events that were unfolding, ran off at the mouth.
	"Gosh, I sound like a nervous school girl.  I better shut up."
	"You sound adorable, like a twelve year old who realizes she's on
the verge of becoming a woman.  And that's just about where you are."
	"I guess so.  I'm just so happy Miss Preston is being so nice to
me.  You can't believe how miserable I was for so long until a few weeks
ago when I stood up to some bully in school." The boy-girl paused and
stared down at her hands. She fought back the tears that were the result of
so many years of torment and of isolation.  "You can never know or even
begin understand how miserable I felt."
	The boy-girl said nothing further as she realized she was about to
tell Connie of her misgivings about putting herself in Miss Preston's
hands.
	"Allie, don't ever think I don't know what you went through and how
much Miss Preston did for me.  Not very long ago I was in the same spot you
were in, a worse, more desperate place than you're in now.  The difference
between us is that I couldn't stand up to any body like you did.  I
despaired of all hope for a future worth having.
	"Oh, here we are.  This is where I live."
	Connie continued chatting as she led the way to a ground floor
apartment.
	"You see Miss Preston saved my life by giving me the life I was
meant to lead.  Allie, I tried to end my old life."
	Allie stared in horror as Connie hung up her blazer and turned her
wrists upward to reveal the scars left by her suicide attempt.  She quickly
recovered her awareness of impending danger and wondered what Miss Preston
had gained from `saving' Connie.
	Of course!  It dawned on Allie all at once.  She has blindly loyal
tool to do her bidding. And that sketchpad routine she does so well,
that'll get most girls like me into her clutches too.  But for what
purpose?
	Connie took Allie into her bedroom, seated her in front of vanity
table and, after putting on a smock, set to work on Allie's face.
	"Tsk, this isn't working out quite the way it was planned to go.
Come with me."
	Connie yanked Allie to her feet and started to tow her toward a
door of the bedroom.  "No, wait.  I don't want your top to get wet.  Take
off your blouse."
	Allie slowly unbuttoned her boy shirt.  She was hesitant to remove
it fearing that the next step would be to remove her slacks.  Her new found
confidence in her femme qualities didn't yet extend far enough to let
another girl, trannie though she may be, see her clad only in panties.  But
was it the prospect of standing before Connie clad only in panties or was
it that the panties were so plain, so unglamorous?
		Allie let her shirt slide down along her arms.  It fell to
the floor as she covered her boyishly flat chest with a hugging gesture.
Connie looked at her admiringly as a smile flashed across her face.
	"Modest, aren't we?"
	That did it for Allie who saw the playful remark as a teasing
challenge.  She unzipped her slacks, unbuttoned the waist and in mock
modesty, gracefully turned her back to Connie.  As if by instinct she
thrust her tush backward toward her new found mentor.  Allie froze
momentarily in this spontaneous and enticing pose.  Her panties were taut
across her shapely bottom as the coldly sophisticated Connie, her aplomb
gone, stared unabashedly.
	Allie, catching a glimpse of Connie's face in a mirror, turned to
her and smiled.
	"Oh, Connie, I'm ever so surprised that you're paying attention to
my plain old every day cotton panties."
	"Just stop trying to be a tease.  We've got work to do."
	"I'm not trying to be a tease at all.  I'm doing quite well at it."
	Connie blushed openly, something she had not done for a very long
time.  Then again very few trannies whom she had helped through their first
stages had ever given her a hard-on, and never one as intense as this
inexperienced petite boy/girl had so easily raised in her.
	This little bitch is far too confident for a beginner.  Given half
a chance, she'll edge me out as the favored girl.  Ignore her, that's the
thing to do.
	Connie stared icily at Allie.  The neophyte trannie realized she
was causing Connie all sorts of consternation but Connie's stare made her
back off.  Allie, who had so quickly learned to intimidate boys and certain
genuine girls, was herself unsettled by this young transwoman whom she,
realized, she so wanted to be like.  Or did she?
	Allie stood as tall as she could as she hooked her thumbs in the
waist band of her panties and turned to face her would be mentor.  As she
slowly faced Connie, her thumbs, still hooked in her panties, slid closer
to her belly button.  Her hands moved slowly downward so that the line of
her waistband skimmed the top edge of her pubic hair.  Connie stared unable
to hide the anguish she felt at being overwhelmed with the urge to throw
this insolent neophyte to the floor and crush her balls in her hand.
	How the hell can I ignore this little shit when I'm already
dripping precum?
	Connie's irritation and frustration broke through as she slapped
Allie who staggered back in surprise.  The neophyte bared her teeth like a
snarling animal.
	"That was a huge mistake.  Oh, no, I'm not going to fight you now
but I will get back at you.  Just don't get in my way." The teen trannie
grabbed her boy clothing and started to dress.  "Oh, I know you probably
can beat the piss out of me but not before I mark your face, so stay away."
	"What are you doing?"  Connie was truly upset.
	"Leaving and don't try to stop me."
	"Listen to me, please."  Connie's voice betrayed the panic she felt
at realizing that if Allie left, she would be in dire straits when she
tried to explain to Miss Preston how this potential prize escaped.
	Bewildered at this strange turn of events, Connie gawked as Allie
slipped into her chinos.  The older trannie stood arms akimbo and took a
deep breath.
	"Listen to me, you little^Å"
	"Little what?"  The teen's authoritative tone stopped Connie in
mid-sentence and forced her to change her approach.
	"Allie, I'm sorry but do stop and think.  You're throwing way a
great opportunity."
	"No, darling, it's you who's losing a great opportunity, an
opportunity to make me your tool and Miss Preston's whatever it is she
wants me to be for her. Now, out of my way!"
	Connie's aplomb was fading more and more each time Allie opened her
mouth.  To her chagrin, she was becoming aroused by the young boy/girl's
aggressive reaction yet her fear of Miss Preston's wrath if Allie failed to
come under her influence, dampened any chance of her actually having sex,
rough or otherwise with this very sexy and very angry trans-girl who was so
terribly inexperienced but so talented at being a girl.
	Allie slipped into her shoes and man's shirt.  Undoing the front of
her chinos, she started to tuck in the shirt. Connie seized the
opportunity, stepped in back of Allie, grabbed her around the waist and
lifted her from the floor.  Allie flailed helplessly in Connie's strong
arms.  The teen swung her legs out, pressed her feet against the door frame
and pushed back with all her strength.  The maneuver sent Connie staggering
backwards with her arms still around Allie's waist. The agile teen bucked
sending Connie onto her back.  The boy/girl's firm butt landed in the pit
of Connie's stomach leaving her gasping for breath.
	Connie lay on her side in fetal position as she struggled to
breathe.  Her skirt was almost at her waist, revealing her white satin
panties and, through the delicate fabric, her rapidly hardening dick.
Allie gazed triumphantly at her fallen exploiter.  She used her foot to
nudge Connie onto her back and knelt over her.  She smiled sardonically at
the frightened trans-woman before dropping her knee into Connie's already
sore stomach.
	"Oh, what have we here?"  She rested her fingers on Connie's stiff
prick.  "You must really love to be hurt.  Tell me now, which do you find
more arousing, more satisfying.  Is it physical pain or emotional pain that
gets you so hard?"  Connie shook her head as her eyes widened in terror.
Allie held Connie's balls and slowly began tightening her grip.  The young
trannie was enjoying her power over the more experienced Connie who was
intended by Miss Preston to be her mentor.  She put her free hand on
Connie's face.
	"I told you I'd mark you if you attacked me."  She relished the
look of total dread on the so recently haughty creature lying terrified
beneath her.
	"Oh, but you're just too beautiful to mark up."  Allie moved her
hand away from Connie's face.  As she did she tightened her grasp on her
victim's balls. A twist of Allie's hand and Connie fainted from the
excruciating pain.
	Allie felt a glow of satisfaction as she noticed the very large,
very wet pre-cum spot on Connie's panties.  She knew she had no time to
waste.  Allie felt her own cock hardening as she stared down at the
prostrate figure of the androgynous and ever so beautiful Connie.  She
knelt and kissed Connie on the lips.  The older trannie stirred, yielded to
Allie's caresses.  Allie turned Connie onto her belly and lay on her with
her own erect prick against the crack of Connie's bottom.  She had no need
to fuck Connie's delicious butt; no need because she came all over Connie's
panty covered rear in seconds.
	Allie maintained an air of calm self-possession as she finished
dressing.  She kissed her finger tips and put them on the lips of the
defeated Connie.  "Bye, lover.  We'll have to try this again some other
time."
	She calmly walked out of the apartment.  After leaving the
apartment, Connie got to a busy street as quickly as she could.
	Connie soon recovered and struggled to her feet.  Her head whirled
with a storm of conflicting emotions.  Above all, she knew she wanted to
take Allie up on that sarcastic offer.
	"We'll have to try this again some other time."  Why did she have
to say that?  I hate her; I hate her because I want her so much.
	 Connie was unable to contain her feelings even as she her thoughts
dwelled on her hatred of Allie, the novice who so upset her plans to be
number one in Miss Preston's staff of boy/girls, a staff whose services
brought Miss Preston more income in a month than she could possibly earn in
a year of teaching. It was a strange and heady blend of humiliation and
exhilaration that Connie felt as she slowly undressed in her bathroom.  She
filled the sink with cool water and dropped her cum soaked panties in to
soak.  Then a shower before phoning Miss Preston.  It was as if she were a
rape victim who cleans away all evidence of the violation perpetrated on
her before she phones the police or goes to a hospital.
	Connie phoned Miss Preston to report that Allie had bolted.  She
dared not go into detail.  Tears ran down her cheeks as Miss Preston
berated her.  After hanging up the phone, she turned her attention to her
still very erect cock.  In less time than she hoped, she brought herself to
a pulsating orgasm.

	The phone conversation with Miss Preston was not in the least what
Connie expected.
	"Pull yourself together and get yourself back to my place. No,
sweetie, not your fault at all. I brought you along too quickly.  Your
appearance is flawless but you still think and react like the sissy boy you
were for so long.  Just dress quickly and get over here as soon as you
can."
	First a gaffe, then white cotton panties under white Bermuda
shorts, tailored look white bra under a French sailor's blouse, tennis
sneakers.
	Miss Preston critically eyed her failed protégée.  Connie quivered
visibly under the scrutiny of the woman who had rescued her and whose trust
she had betrayed by creating that ridiculous scene which drove Allie from
the fold even before she had become one of them.  A smile slowly developed
on Miss Preston's face.
	Connie avoided eye contact by looking down at her finger nails.  A
shudder chilled her as she noticed the scars of her abortive suicide
attempt.  Miss Preston had saved her from an indefinite commitment in a
mental hospital, had wrested custody from her angry parents, angry because
their child's pain led her to embarrass them by trying to kill him/herself.
She knew Miss Preston would forgive her.  She also knew that there would be
a price to pay for being allowed to remain under Miss Preston's protection.
	"Relax, Connie, my love.  I am going to need a secretary when I set
up the next phase of my plan.  I've been lucky enough to avoid detection
all these years but it's time to give up teaching before I'm caught and
wind up in jail with no pension to see me through when I get out.
	"You're going to register in stenography school.  You'll live the
life of a mousy girl from out of town while you learn to be of some use to
me.  It shouldn't be very difficult for you to play that role.  You do know
that under that beautiful face and figure, you're still the frightened
little boy you were when I took you from that psychiatric unit and gave you
a persona you could live with.  And just to keep you away from mischief,
you'll move back here and help out in any way I need you to.
	"Stop that sniffling and pull yourself together.  There's no need
for that useless melodrama.  Not unless you think it suits your brand of
femininity. It's stale as far as I'm concerned so you may as well stop the
tears.  You'll have a chance to redeem yourself.  Don't look so quizzical.
You'll know what I expect by way of atonement when I'm good and ready to
tell you. But first you're going to have to show me that you have some
potential to be a commanding, authoritative woman.
	"Fail me once more and I'll personally drive you back to that town
where I found you and kick you out of my car.  They'll no doubt remember
you.  Don't ever forget what life was like only three months ago."
	Had Miss Preston seen the look of hatred on Connie's face she might
have tempered her diatribe against the wretched transgirl. Had she seen
Connie's facial expression go from one of hatred to a sneer of revengeful
contempt, she would have treated Connie with kid gloves from that moment
forward.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Allie was a little shaky on Monday morning as, dressed totally as
the boy she had been for too long, she approached the school building well
before classes were to start.  She knew she would have to face Miss Preston
sooner or later.
	The boy/girl was startled as Miss Preston greeted her from behind.
"Good morning, Allie.  Yesterday must have been a nightmarish
disappointment for you.  Don't try to pretend it was otherwise.
	"I do so apologize for Connie's extraordinary and inexcusable
behavior yesterday.  I fully understand you may no longer have any interest
in working with me and my associates.  Rest assured you'll have no further
problems from Connie.
	"But do yourself a favor.  Just take some time to decide what you
want to do or not do. Should you decide to give it another try, feel free
to stop by my office at your convenience or you can call me."
	It was over that quickly.  Allie, for the moment at least, was
willing to forgive Miss Preston for the bizarre episode with Connie.  As
she sat waiting for Anne and Rebecca, she began to have second thoughts.
	Miss Preston was just too matter of fact, too domineering. Not an
ounce of feeling or sincerity in what she said.  I couldn't have gotten a
word in edgewise even if I wanted to.  She has the nerve to say "do myself
a favor."  I'll be damned before I come begging to Miss Preston to be given
another chance.  Why would I even want another chance with her?  A chance
to be her tool; who needs it?"
	Despite her boy attire, Allie assumed a very femme posture by
wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.  She
began to sulk.
	Damn it to hell! Why can't I get that picture of Connie looking up
at me in total defeat out my mind?  Pretty obvious though. I was never so
turned on, well almost never, than I was when I knew I had total control
over her and that under it all Connie was enjoying it as much as I was.
Poor Connie, so gorgeous and so pathetic.  A slave to Miss Preston is all
she is.
	"A penny for your thoughts."  Barb's voice jarred Allie back to the
moment.
	Allie looked up to see Barb standing on the step above where she
sat.  The look Allie gave her nemesis was anything but friendly.
	"Okay, okay, just say so and I'll take off.  It's just that I see
Preston is trying to get her fangs into you. I'd hate to see a good kid
like you beholden, no, trapped by her.  Especially not when you're first
waking up to who you really are.  Take it from me, it isn't easy."
	"Come off it, Barb.  Since when do you care about what happens to
me?  Okay, so just leave me be.  We have nothing in common."
	"I'm sorry you feel that way.  Take care of yourself.  I really
mean it whether you think so or not."
	Barb turned and walked quickly up the stairs toward the school
doors.  A gust of wind lifted her skirt, not so high as to reveal more than
the back of her knees to the casual passerby but from Allie's unique
perspective of being seated on the steps below Barb, she was treated to a
disturbingly fetching glimpse of Barb's ungirdled tush, a tush that was
surprisingly flat.  Of course no one had ever noticed that little
peculiarity since, like most nice girls of the fifties, Barb's hips and
rear were concealed under loose skirts covering petticoats and crinolines.
Allie began to wonder about Barb.
	Well, maybe we do have something in common.  There's only one way
to find.  Nah, not worth the time and effort.  Barb's a conceited, petulant
bitch no matter what she's hiding in her panties.  Hell, no.  If she is a
girl like me there's no chance she could be doing it full time and get
through high school unnoticed.

	To Allie's annoyance, there was a note from Miss Preston in her
locker.  The woman who was so haughty and dismissive not half an hour ago
had taken the time and trouble to write a note to Allie and then see that
it was slipped into her locker.
	Allie carefully read and reread the handwritten note several times
before folding neatly and putting it in her boy's style wallet.
	Okay, okay so maybe I am being a jerk by taking the bait. I can
always back out.  After all, this is just a chat in her office in school
during school hours.  Nothing bad can happen.  Besides, I really would love
to get my hands on Connie again, finish what we started, only this time a
little more romantically.  I'll be damned if I show up at her bidding.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Connie was settling into her new role as part-time secretarial
school student and part time maid to Miss Preston.  The maid part consisted
only of serving cocktails at occasional before dinner cocktail parties that
Miss Preston gave for a select few ladies and gentlemen.  These gentlemen
paid substantial sums for the pleasure of enjoying these parties in the
company of girls Miss Preston had mentored and were beholden to her.
	The secretarial school had written to let Miss Preston know that
her ward was doing very, very well and would likely qualify for a position
as an executive secretary on completion of her courses.  Miss Preston was
livid.  No way would she allow Connie to escape from her clutches.  She
would have a surprise for Connie when she returned home.
	Connie looked at her closet in shock and then cried hysterically.
Almost her entire wardrobe had been slashed to shreds!
	Half an hour later she had calmed enough to make a telephone call.
	"Allie, it's me, Connie.  Just hang up if you totally hate me but I
really need your help. ^Ö No, I can't meet you on some neutral place, at
least not yet.  Preston will kill me if she knows what I'm up to.
	Allie was overwhelmed at being called by Connie. She wondered
whether she was being deceived or was Connie in as much danger as she made
it sound?
	Allie knew, too, that she wanted to once again experience that
thrill of total power and total arousal that came when she had Connie at
her feet.
	Was it only `cause it was Connie, a girl with a dick or can that
happen with an ordinary boy? Only one way to find out. I'll call him
now. Poor Ron.
   /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	"Hi Ron."
	"Allie!  I can't believe you're calling me.  How come?"
	"Just feel like chatting," she purred.  "Say, Ron, you in the mood
for a walk with your special girlfriend?"
	"Who do you mean?"
	"Are you just being a stinker or have you really forgotten that
girl you gave a ride in your car?"
	"Oh, no, no.  I didn't forget her.  I'll pick you up in front of
your house in ten minutes."
	"Can't we just go for a walk or are you afraid your friends will
see you with me?"
	"Allie, I just want to be with you and I don't care who see us."
	"Make it twenty minutes.  A girl has to dress and do her hair.  But
first she has to pick out her underthings.  See you soon, lover."

	Allie, almost desperate to slip into femme attire, undressed
quickly.
	She opened her drawer and reached behind and under her boy
underthings.  A shiver of anticipation went through her as her fingertips
touched the panties Anne had `loaned' her that fateful evening when Ron had
offered a ride without realizing this self-assured girl was the fairy boy
whose resistance to Ron's bullying had nearly ruined his social standing.
	A confident half smile as she turned sideways to the mirror and
regarded the effect as she snapped the hem of her panties over her tush.
It was a move she wanted to master before wearing a girl's swimsuit.
	Next she donned the padded bra.  Her lightest colored slacks
followed.  Ever so little lipstick and that was blotted off at once.  She
wanted to give the illusion of being a girl who needed no makeup but whose
wholesome outdoorsy complexion made it look as if she were wearing makeup.
	She looked at her shirts but rejected them as too boyish.  Well, of
course; these were young men's shirts.  Mummy would never mind her
borrowing a blouse.  The semi-opaque fabric allowed her the back of her bra
to show through. Clip-on earrings and patent flats were also commandeered
from Mummy's closet.
	A touch of fear ran through Allie, very rational fear that if she
were recognized by some of the boys she might be assaulted, hurt.  She
abandoned Mummy's shoes and opted for her own penny-loafers with no socks.
It was chilly enough outside that a sweater to cover her blouse would
prevent her bra from showing until she was ready to use the effect to bring
Ron to heel.
	After writing a note to Mummy explaining about the blouse, Allie
grabbed her boy wallet, put her keys in it, and left the apartment carrying
the wallet as if it were a small clutch purse.

	Ron was leaning against the fender of his car as Allie walked down
the porch steps.  She favored Ron with a smile as he stared at her
wondering if this were Allie or a very pretty girl who looked very much
like the effeminate boy who had so captivated him.  A huge grin of
recognition spread over Ron's face as he walked toward Allie.
	"You look so, so^Å" Ron stumbled to avoid saying words like pretty
or sexy to describe Allie.
	"Different?  Is that how you would describe me?"
	"Yeah.  I guess that's it."
	"Well, of course, I am different but it would be nice of you really
said what you're thinking."
	Ron, taken aback by Allie's assertive reaction to his hesitation,
gaped at Allie.
	"Let's go, lover.  We're taking a walk together."  Allie took Ron's
hand in hers.  The boy/girl's widened in anger as Ron, still holding on to
Allie's hand, resisted.
	"Why don't we go for a ride in my car?  Maybe I can say what you
want me to if I can^Å"
	"No, Ron.  We agreed to meet and take a walk around the
neighborhood.  And besides, it's not a matter of what I want you to say.
All I want is for you to tell me how you feel about me and how you feel
when you're near me.  If you're not going to talk to me, then you can get
lost.  Good night."
	Allie entwined her fingers with Ron's then squeezed tightly and
twisted her wrist bending Ron's hand and fingers causing him to wince in
pain.  She dropped his hand and strode toward the side door of her house.
Ron followed angrily.
	"I suppose you want me to invite you in.  No thanks.  You're not
man enough to be around me, jerk!"
	Ron put his hands on Allie's shoulders and started to plead.
	"Come on, Allie, give me a break.  Okay, okay so you do turn me on
but I'm so scared that everyone will think I'm queer.  Please, just give me
a chance to..."
	"Yeah, sure, give you a chance.  Like you gave Allan a chance."
	With that the girl/boy drove her heel into Ron's toes.  It had the
effect she wanted.
	"You shit," was all Ron could say before Allie stepped away from
the side of the house and pushed the confused boy face first against the
wall. She instinctively put her foot in back of his heel and yanked him
backwards by his hair.  Taken by surprise and totally off balance, Ron
staggered and fell landing flat on his back.
	"Get that straight or this is only a sample of what I'll do to
you," Allie admonished as she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring
down at her fallen victim. Both were monetarily distracted as a car slowed
and all but stopped the bottom of the driveway
	"Allie, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  Ron sounded on the verge of tears.
"Let me get up."
	"Go ahead, get up."  She turned to unlock the side door.  Ron got
up slowly and carefully.
	"Come in," ordered Allie.
	Ron stood inside the side door.
	"Gee, Ron, I hope I didn't hurt you but I do want to be treated
like a lady.  As a matter of fact, I insist on it."
	"Forget it.  I deserved it."
	"That's sweet.  Why don't we go down to the basement and put on
some records."
	Ron looked around the basement.  The couch along the wall caught
his eye.  He was fascinated and panicked by the possibilities of making out
with Allie on the couch.
	"I think I better go."
	"Afraid of what might happen between us?"  Allie asked
provocatively.
	"I don't know. I just don't feel right."
	"Go then, but I think you deserve a good-night kiss."
	Ron melted as Allie put her hand behind his head and brought her
open mouth to his.  He responded only to have Allie knee him in the crotch,
hard enough to make him clutch his balls but not so hard as to put him out
of commission.
	The injured boy tried to clear his head as Allie undid hips belt
and fly and pushed his jeans down, hobbling him and exposing the start of
what was rapidly becoming a very intense hard-on.
	Allie smiled sardonically as she opened her slacks and slowly
lowered them.  Ron stared transfixed at the outline of Allie's circumcised
cock-head through her panties.
	"Prove to me you want me," she whispered as she sat back on the
couch and pulled her panty crotch aside.
	Ron knelt between her knees and, tentatively at first, put his lips
to Allie's cock-head.  His tongue reached out to take the drop of pre-cum
already beading on the tip of his trannie mistress's powerfully stiff
dick. His mouth enveloped the entire head.  He moaned in frustration as
Allie pulled his head off her prick.  She guided his mouth toward the base
of her shaft.  Ron slowly licked the underside until he raced the head.
	Ron took the head in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the
rim as Allie began to massage her shaft.  Moments later he felt Allie's
hips buck as her exploding shot wave after wave of cum into his awaiting
mouth.
	Allie beckoned to him, to bring his mouth to hers.  The kiss was
long and deep as Allie reveled in the taste her own cum in her lover's
mouth.  She pushed him away, took his cock in her hand and then released
it.
	"Jerk it off.  If you're really sorry for using nasty language in
front of me, you'll jerk yourself off for me, right now!"
	He had no choice but to obey.
	"Now go.  And don't bother to call me."
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Allie, having dismissed Ron, sat brushing her hair when the phone
rang.
	"Hi Allie.  You okay?"
	"Sure Anne.  Why wouldn't I be?"
	"Well, Rebecca and I were driving around when we saw you and Ron in
the driveway next to your house.  It looked like he was trying to get his
way with you.  We were ready to jump in but then you really handled him.
Looked like you were about to kick his butt."
	"Thanks for thinking about me.  You two are real pals.  I got him
inside and really made him think he was going to get somewhere with me.  I
beat him up and then made him suck me off!  It was such a great feeling."
	"You really did that!  Listen to me.  Rebecca and I started
learning to defend ourselves and then, you're not going to believe this but
since we turned eighteen we get paid to fight men and hurt them.  It's like
getting paid for having fun."
	"You're kidding me, right?"
	"No.  I wouldn't kid about things like this.  How do you think I
can buy the clothes you were so envious of?
	"Look, let's get together and talk."

	A few days later the trio met at Rebecca's.  Anne did most of the
talking.
	"There's this café called `Sappho's Daughters.'  During the week
it's not so much a lesbian hangout as it is a gathering place for arty
types.  On Sunday nights couples and business men from out of town show up.
The men and some of the couples pay to see us in action or to be our
opponents.  No sex involved.  It's easy money.
	"Why not start training and hang around with us?  See if you like
it."
	"Gee, that sounds swell.  But you know, I mean I'm not a girl, not
really."
	"Kiddo, they'll pay double if they know you're a girl with
something extra in her panties."
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	That sounds like such a good deal.  Might be real fun and get some
pocket money without nagging Mummy for more than we can afford.  But that
would make me a freak in a freak show.  No!  That's not for me.  Still,
learning to fight might come in handy if some goon tries to get in my
panties. I'm getting a real charge out of pushing Ron around.  Might be
even more fun to surprise some guy.  If I'm getting a thrill and giving
some jerk a thrill I might as well make a few bucks.  I'm juts so confused.
Say! Keep an open mind and take it as it comes.  No commitments for now
except to learn how to fight.
	For the second time that evening the phone interrupted Allie's
thoughts.
	"Allie, it's me, Connie.  I'm okay but I have to hide from Preston.
She'll kill me without hesitation.  I mean kill me dead.  She's killed
before.  Verushka is finding me a place to stay.  The less you know the
better off you'll be."
	"What is going on?"
	"I have no time to talk now but you can call Verushka in a couple
of days and get the whole story from her."
	"How do I know you're not setting me up for something awful?"
	"Okay, what if I tell you Preston is going to quit her job.  Not
even quit.  Just not show up, just vanish as soon as she realizes what I
have on her."
	"If what you say is true and she disappears without a word, I'll
get in touch with Verushka."

	To everyone's surprise except Allie's, Miss Preston failed to show
up at school the following Monday.  When her landlord checked her
apartment, it was intact except for photos and personal papers.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	"Yes, Allie.  There is much that I know but you'll be a lot safer
for now if Jane Preston has no suspicion that you've been in contact with
me."
	"Thank you, Miss Verushka.  Please, please cal me if you hear from
Connie."
	"Of course I will.  But Allie, just one thing; call me Verushka
without the miss."

	Allie hung up the phone and stepped out of the phone booth.  She
was flattered that Verushka asked her to omit the miss when addressing her.
She felt as if she were being accepted into a very special circle, more
sophisticated, more creative, more open to new experiences than any she had
ever known.  It was a feeling akin to being asked to be part of the clique
of tough minded, independent teens who hung out with Marcia.  It was almost
as thrilling as being with Anne and Rebecca.
	 Mrs. Kaufman eyed from behind the counter but said nothing as the
young boy/girl studied the magazine rack.  The boy/girl smiled warmly at
Mrs. Kaufman as she noticed, for the first time, that this fortyish woman,
so plain without makeup or stylish hair-do was really classically
beautiful.  She wondered what her life might have been had not the Nazis
rose to power and sent her to a concentration camp.  Her brief reflection
ended as Ron impatiently honked his car horn.
	Allie impulsively selected a copy of teen fashion magazine aimed at
real girls far younger than the now frightened youth.  Mrs. Kaufman looked
at her quizzically.
	"Allie, something is wrong.  You want to tell me?"
	"Something is very wrong, Mrs. Kaufman.  I'm okay.  It's just some
girl I know, not from our neighborhood, might be in real trouble."
	"A girl like you, yes?"  ` Allie nodded feebly then answered
softly.  "Yes, it's so awful.  Thanks for noticing."
	"You want to tell me?  You'll feel better."
	"I can't."
	Allie made a dash through the evening rain and into Ron's waiting
car just as the newspaper delivery truck hurled a bundle of the late
evening papers onto the sidewalk.  A bus pulled up in a hiss of air
brakes. An instant later Marcia and a few others ran from the bus and into
the soda fountain.
	"Wait Ron.  I want to save Mrs. Kaufman from having to go out in
the rain.  She's being so nice to me."
	Allie dropped the wet bundle of newspapers at the end of the
counter. Mrs. Kaufman smiled thanks and continued chatting with Marcia and
a couple of her cronies as she made sundaes for them.  Mrs. Kaufman looked
up in shocked surprise as Marcia animatedly told her of Miss Preston's
disappearance.
	"Preston, you say!"
	"Yeah, Jane Preston.  Why, do you know her?"
	"A long time ago in Europe I met up with somebody by that name, a
student from America.  Can't be the same woman.  Must be a coincidence."
	Allie paused long enough to overhear this brief conversation and to
wave hi to Marcia as the real girl and her friends carried their sundaes to
a booth.
	Mrs. Kaufman cut the string holding the newspaper bundle together
and discarded the wet paper wrapping.  The tabloid headline screamed the
story of Miss Preston's disappearance.  The jump on page three showed
several photos of Miss Preston.
	Mrs. Kaufman rubbed the concentration camp tattoo on her right
forearm as she stared in disbelief at the photos.
	That name is no coincidence.  It really is her, that witch who
denounced her own brother to the Nazis.  I bet Allie knows something about
this.  That poor child won't be safe until that mad woman is dead.
	She folded her arms over her chest and stared thoughtfully into the
middle distance.
	"Marcia, darling, what's Allie's last name?"
	Mrs. Kaufman, her question answered, began looking through the
phone book.  She was all but certain Marcia could give her Allie's phone
number and address but the refugee woman dared not do a thing that would
call attention to her or to Allie.
	A busy signal.  A few minutes later she phone again.  This time
there was no answer.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	To Ron's surprise, Allie curled her legs under her and slid close
to the boy as he drove aimlessly though the evening rain.  A quick glance
in the rearview mirror reminded him that the girl whose nearness was so
exciting was still the effeminate boy who always held an attraction for
him.  He avoided looking at Allie lest his own insecurities might stop the
confession he was about to make.
	"Allie.  Don't say anything.  Just listen to me.  There's something
I need to day to you."
	"Go ahead, Ron, hon."
	Ron became very aware that his cock wasn't quite flaccid the
instant Allie called him `hon.'
	"This is kind of a confession."  He took a deep breath before
continuing. "When I first saw you way back in junior high, I felt all
funny, like you were some kind of girl, sexy like, but I knew you were a
boy.  My friends noticed that I used to look at you different so they
teased me.  To prove I was a man I began to bother you, bully you.  I hated
myself but I had to prove something.  All I proved was that I'm a shit who
doesn't deserve to live."
	Allie put her finger on Ron's lips.
	"Am I really such a horror that you would kill^Å"
	 Allie never finished her sentence.  Ron pulled the car over to the
curb and started to cry.
	"Let me kiss it better," purred Allie as she put her mouth over
Ron's, probed with her tongue.  "Take me home so we can feel safe."
	A steady rain fell as Allie led Ron to the second floor apartment
and to her bedroom.  She had called out to see if Mummy had returned but
there was no answer.  Nor were there any messages on the pad next to the
phone.
	Allie stood in front of Ron and unbuttoned his shirt.
	"Take of those wet things and put on this robe.  Be right back."
	Allie grabbed some things from her dresser and padded down the hall
to the bathroom while Ron obediently removed his not very wet clothes.
More than a little disappointed to find the robe Allie had given him was
not at all feminine, he put it on over his white cotton underpants.  He
looked up to see a transformed Allie in front of him.
	The boy/girl wore sky blue nylon panties and a blue bra.  Eyeliner
and shadow gave her eyes an intensity that melted Ron while intensifying
the erection that had so suddenly sprouted at the very sight of Allie in
bra and panties.
	Allie pulled Ron to his feet and pushed the robe off his shoulders.
She slipped yanked his underpants down to his ankles leaving him hobbled.
Ron moaned as Allie cupped his bottom as she kissed him.
	Ron felt himself being guided backwards until he fell against the
bed.
	"Just let me take charge," whispered Allie.  Ron shook his head as
he squirmed with desire and fear.
	"Don't make hurt you or is that what you like?"  Allie slapped his
balls.
	She wrapped her legs around Ron's neck and squeezed as she rolled
from side to side.
	"I give, I give," was all Ron could get out.
	"I knew you would be reasonable."
	Allie knelt alongside Ron and took his cock in her mouth as she
alternately twisted and caressed Ron's scrotum.  Within minutes he screamed
as he came.
	As Ron lay spent, Allie managed to work a lubricated finger into
his bottom.  Much to the ambivalent boy's surprise, his cock was restored
to its former rampant posture.  The aggressive trannie was now between the
supine Ron's knees.  She hooked her arms under his legs and leaned forward
to kiss him.  Ron, his knees now near his chest yield to Allie's tongue by
opening his mouth fully.  A soft whimper escaped his lips as he felt
Allie's cockhead press against his hole.  Ron tensed as Allie pushed her
dick passed her lover's sphincter.  The whimper grew louder as Allie thrust
deeper into Ron's butt.  He was wild with arousal as Allie rocked from side
to side as she fucked him.  He felt Allie convulse as she came, pumping
what seemed like quarts of cum into the deflowered hole of her former
nemesis.
	He was hers to do to what she pleased and for as long as she chose
to use him.

	Allie shoved the exhausted Ron from her bed.  He lay on the floor
staring at her wanting to tell her things he never dreamed of before that
night yet fearing that his own desires might materialize.
	The boy he wanted more than he ever dreamed possible remained just
that, a boy.  Despite Allie's unique beauty and desirability she still had
a cock and that, as far as Ron had always believed, made her untouchable to
a `real man.'  Ron sat on the floor with his back against the bed as Allie
walked slowly to her desk, a desk which doubled as a vanity table.  The
shiny white panties emphasized the sway of the trannie's narrow hips.  Ron
stared hypnotized at Allie's smooth skin, watched the play of her muscles
as she brushed her short hair.
	The trouble with Allie, Ron felt, was that she was so perfect.
What he wished could be otherwise was that her cock made her even more
perfect than if she were a real girl.  That was what so troubled him.
Could he ever accept that a cock made for a better lover than a pussy?  A
surge of disgust fro his own feelings went through him.  At that instant he
hated Allie for everything she was: beautiful, sexy, tough, and an
unbelievable great lover.
	"Allie, I mean you're a really swank kid but tonight was, was^Å"
	She turned to glare at the frightened boy. He cringed as if he
expected her to physically attack him.  That might have been a mercy.
	"Don't you dare tell me that tonight was a mistake.  You know you
wanted this and you would love more of it.  Well, just forget about ever
having anything to do with me again.  Don't talk to me, don't even look at
me when we pass by each other.  I thought you were learning, that you might
be okay.  Boy, was I wrong. Now get out of here before I hurt you."
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Ron wasn't sure whether he was more angry at Allie for having
awakened the feelings he had so long buried under his veneer of machismo or
angry at himself for responding to the seemingly irresistible and very
forceful trannie.
	To add to his upset, his car wouldn't start.  Wet wires.  Well, at
least the rain had stopped.  He was so absorbed in feeling sorry for
himself that he failed to notice the late model car that had cruised passed
as it circled the block.
	He got out of his car and started up the driveway to ring Allie's
bell and ask to use her phone.  Then he thought better of it.  She would
certainly think he was being remorseful, trying to make it up to her.  No.
He wouldn't do it.  Trying to make it up to her after their near fight had
cost him any chance with Barb.  What was even worse was that it had started
him down the path to what he feared most; being a queer.
	Ron started to cross the street just as that same car slowly turned
the corner.  He would not have been so casual if he knew that Jane Preston
was behind the wheel and that she had mistaken him for Allie.
	The car accelerated and came at Ron before he could dodge out of
its way.  The right front fender struck him and sent him crashing between
two parked cars.  The driver was frustrated that she didn't strike her
victim squarely and leave her certain that she had rid the world of another
pervert.  What made so much more personal was that this one had destroyed
her cover.  She reversed the car, pulled up alongside the gap between the
cars where the injured Ron lay half conscious.  She would finish off Allie
by pounding her head against the curb.
	The woman knelt over Ron and pulled his head up by his hair.  The
fact that it wasn't Allie increased her fury, sending her into a blind
rage.
	She flung Ron face first against the curb. A moment later she was
in the car and speeding down the quite street.
	A moment later the car ran through the stop sign and swerved onto
the main street.  A screech of locked brakes and the car spun out of
control striking a heavy concrete traffic stanchion that was set in the
road to protect passengers waiting for the trolley car.  The driver should
have been bleeding profusely but corpses bleed so very little.

	The police sergeant dispatched to the scene studied the wrecked
car.
	"Take a few pictures of this," he said gesturing to the front
passenger side fender.  "Good bet she was fleeing that hit and run that was
phoned in.  Any word on that kid who was hit?"
	"Yeah, he'll be okay.  But get this, he recognized the driver.
Claims it was that schoolteacher who disappeared a few days ago."
	"How could he recognize the driver in the dark, especially when he
didn't see the car coming at him?"
	"The kid says she got out of the car and when she saw it wasn't
this other kid, a kid called Allie, she became a wild woman raving like a
loony and then slammed his face against the curb.  He admits he really
didn't see the woman's face but from what she said it had to be the Preston
woman.  Tells us she said something like, Oh my God, that's not Allie.  I
got the wrong one.  Says he thinks Preston had reason to go after
Allie. Might be he's delirious or might not be.  Facial injuries look like
someone did what he says she did.  Funny thing though."
	"What's that?"
	"I couldn't figure out whether this Allie he's talking about is a
girl or a boy.  Says he was coming from her, his, whoever's house when he
got hit."
	"Let's talk to that Allie kid.  My bet is that Preston or someone
who wanted us to think she's Preston figured on running down Allie. Case of
mistaken identity."
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Mommy, having returned home a few minutes after the hit and run episode,
was relieved to find Allie stepping out of the shower.  They watched from
the front window as the ambulance pulled away and a second police car
backed down the one-way street.  Allie was perplexed to see a uniformed
sergeant and a patrolman walk toward the front door of their house.
	"Relax, sweetie.  I'm sure they're just looking for anyone who may
have seen the accident."
	"Oh, Mommy, that's not it.  Ron, he's that boy I almost had a fight
with in school, he left the house and then I heard the sound of might have
been a car crash.  I'm afraid he may have been the one who was run over."
	"You seem like an awfully nice kid," commented the sergeant, "But
why would this Miss Preston have been out to hurt you."
	Allie looked at Mommy who nodded, a silent message that it was okay
for her to tell all she knew to this calmly reassuring police officer.
	"Will I get in trouble if I, if I^Å"
	"Allie, unless you were directly involved in illegal activity that
might hurt others, I promise there won't be any trouble for you.  I think I
know what's on your mind.
	"There are some boys who aren't comfortable being boys.  They like
to dress and do things as if they were a girl.  Some cops go after them.  I
don't, never have.  They need to be protected more than most kids because
they can get it from every direction.
	"You're one of those boys who like to be a girl, right?  Your
secret's safe with me and him."  He nodded toward the patrolman who smiled
compassionately at Allie.
	Allie, relieved to unburden herself, told of how she stood up to
Ron, then seduced him.  The smile she got from the sergeant conveyed
approval for what she had done.  His driver's smile conveyed the same
approval but with more than a hint of admiration.
	Allie went on to tell how Miss Preston had wanted her to interview
for some vague sort of job, how she had Connie draw a picture of her as if
she were wearing makeup, and of her confrontation with Connie later that
day.
	"Connie called me a couple of times.  She was really scared and
said she was trying to hide from Miss Preston but I wasn't sure if I could
trust her. Oh, and she said Verushka would help her."
	"Tell me about this Verushka.  Do you know where we can find her?"
	"Sarge, Verushka is a Russian pet name for Vera.  Shall I start
checking all listings for Vera with a Russian sounding last name?"
	"Go ahead but it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack."
	"Say, I remember Verushka was once a ballerina and now she has some
sort of school.  I think it's in the arty district.  Does that help?"
	"Kid, you just made finding Verushka a snap."  His facial
expression belied his words.
	The patrolman looked around and saw a phone book under the
telephone table in the hall.  He looked up dance schools in the yellow
pages.
	Hey, sarge, this has got to be the Verushka.  Vera Rachevsky
formerly of^Å"
	"Yeah, yeah.  Just write it down and I'll check it out."

	"Now, if it's okay with your mother and okay with you I would like
you to one thing for me.  You don't have to but it would be doing us a real
favor."
	"Whatever Allie decides is fine with me.  I want her to always do
her duty as a good citizen."
	"This may be above and beyond the call of duty, Ma'am.  I want her
to take a look at the driver's body."

	The sergeant's driver volunteered to drive Allie and Mommy to the
county morgue where the driver's body had been taken pending identification
and an autopsy.
	The fully clothed body lay covered on a gurney as the trio entered.
	"You sure you're ready for this?" asked the patrolman with genuine
concern and caring.
	Allie nodded and moved forward.  She blanched as the attendant
lifted the covering from the corpse's face.  Her mouth opened in disbelief
but no sound emerged.  The young police officer put his arm around Allie to
steady.
	"It's okay.  I'm not going to faint."
	The patrolman was slow to release her from his shielding embrace.
	"That's not Miss Preston.  Her name is, was Connie.  I thought she
might have been my friend but I was so wrong."
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	The young patrolman dropped Allie and Mommy at their home before
returning to the precinct house to report to his sergeant and to sign out.
To Allie's very pleasant surprise he said he would feel better if he could
come by and check to see if she was okay on his way home.

	"Sarge. This is more than a couple of motor vehicle accidents."
	"What makes you so sure of that?  You talk pretty big for a
rookie."
	The young officer was not such a rookie as to deny it to this
battle hardened old harness bull he trusted less and less by the second. He
simply laid out the circumstances in such a way as to make his point
irrefutable.  It took some effort to make the sergeant see he wasn't
letting his imagination run wild.
	"So it's not an official ID.  The little queer doesn't even know
the freak's last name.  You may be that this isn't a simple hit and run
with a fatal crash to end it.  Guess this goes over to the detective
bureau.  Probably never be solved. But that's no big deal considering that
bunch of queers knock each other off.  I just want to check in with this
Verushka character."
	The patrolman was struck by how much the smooth line of talk the
sergeant had given Allie about protecting girls like her stood in contrast
to the hateful and derisive attitude he was now showing.  He was about to
hand the sergeant the page of his notepad on which he had written
Verushka's address and phone number when the older cop picked up the direct
line phone on his desk and began to dial.
	"I'm calling this Verushka right now if that meets with your
approval. Now, get out of here and go home."  The sergeant pointed to the
door of the office.
	The patrolman was certain that Sergeant Clayton was somehow
connected to or protecting whoever was responsible for whatever was going
on.  How else would he have known Verushka's phone number by heart if he
never even saw it?
	He changed to civilian clothes and then walked to an all-night
coffee shop to phone Allie and Mommy.
	"No need to put Allie on the phone just yet."  He was relieved that
Mommy had answered the phone.  "Please trust me.  Just don't go anywhere
with Sergeant Clayton or even let him into your apartment.  I'll explain
when I see you.  Please can I talk to Allie."
	Allie got on the phone.
	"Hi kiddo.  I just wanted to hear your voice so I know you're
safe."
	He then phoned police headquarters and told them what he knew.  Dan
was asked to come in and give a statement with a stenographer present to
record it.  He declined politely knowing that he would be dead shortly
after making a statement to police officials.  He hung up the phone and
called back from another phone booth several miles away.  This was repeated
a number of times to prevent the call being traced so that an officer
involved in corruption could be dispatched to shoot him as he "resisted
arrest."
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	"Pretty shrewd, Vera, getting Preston's little fairy boy to do the
dirty work.  What made it even better was that the little fruit killed
himself by running into a stanchion.  Only loss is that you can't use him
to knock off Allie or Preston herself.  That would have ended your
competition once and for all.  How did you get the fairy to do the job?"
	"Clayton, must you always be so coarse?  Bear in mind that I do
have some feeling for the boys I employ."
	"You mean the boys you pimp for. So tell me how you did it."
	"It wasn't difficult.  Connie thought Preston figured out she was
making photocopies of incriminating records so she figured Preston was out
to kill her.  I offered to hide Connie and then told her I talked to
Preston who agreed to take her back if she killed Allie by running her
down."
	"You're an impressive old broad. First you run a ballet company of
female impersonators, and then you escape the Nazis by finding them fairy
boys to take care of their sick needs and come here and open a ballet
school where you run special classes fro boys who like to pretend their
girls.  You start a call girl service for men who like their girls to have
pricks and to top it all off you become a murderer by proxy.  Very
impressive.  You're safe as long as I get my cut."
	Sergeant Carlson hung up on Vera Rachevsky who was smiling as she
said to the dead receiver, "I may be safe but you are definitely in
danger."
	She kept smiling as she placed several sets of papers into manila
mailing envelopes.  One was addressed to the office of the mayor, one to
the police commissioner and one to each of the three most notoriously
muck-raking daily newspapers in the city.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Mommy excused herself so as to leave Allie and Dan, the young cop,
by themselves.  Allie cringed as Dan lay his thirty-eight special on the
end table next to the couch.  "Better, I keep it handy.  We don't know who
may show up.  You see^Å"
	Allie never let him finish what he had to say.  After all, it's
very hard to keep talking when a very cute young trannie puts her tongue
down your throat.  Dan responded as Allie's hand worked its way into his
fly and groped for his prick.  She straddled her new lover as she slipped
he jean down and pressed her panty covered dick against his face.  He
lowered her pants just enough to expose her cock-head.  In a minutes Allie
knew that Dan was experienced in satisfying girls like her.
	The next morning Mommy sat with Dan and Allie at the breakfast
table.  "With all the excitement last night, Allie, I never got to tell you
that I have been offered a job as a librarian by a college in a very arty
little town in northern New England."
	When she named the college, Dan's face lit up.  "Say, I was
accepted there under the GI Bill.  Couldn't decide whether to stay a cop
down here or go be a student." He looked pensively into his coffee cup as
if reading tea leaves.
	"Have you decided?" Allie asked.
	"Well, I can't stay a cop here and since you'll be there, I don't
see nay way I could refuse that offer."

	The next morning Vera Rachevsky went to the post office, mailed the
packages and then went to several banks where she safe deposit boxes.  She
removed the cash she had stored in the boxes and returned to her apartment.
	The story broke the next day.  Vera hadn't counted on was that
before she was able to leave the city and move on, Sergeant Clayton who was
tipped off by a contact in one of the newspapers, paid her a brief visit.
He shot her in a way calculated to let her die slowly.  After watching her
beg to be killed quickly, he shot himself.
 //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	It was August when Allie and Mommy settled into their new home, a
federal period house near the Bardwin campus.  They decided to have an open
house for the kids that group that had been linked together by the wild
events of their senior year of high school.
	Ron had reunited with Barb who had visited him every day during his
hospitalization and ensuing convalescence at home.  She wasn't going to let
the opportunity to be the steady of a notorious celebrity slip by.  Ron fro
his part had started therapy and was beginning to accept that his affair
with Allie had been her doing and that she had only used him to practice
her skills at dominating males and how to enjoy them for her own sexual
gratification.  His therapy hadn't progressed far enough for him to face
Allie nor would Barb allow Allie a second chance to take him away from her.
Needless to add, they had refused the invitation.
	Thus it was that Anne, Rebecca and Marcia came up to spend a few
days with Allie.  Allie, having lived in the town of Bardwin for all of
three weeks showed her friends the area.  A late lunch was planned at a
lobster shack on a pier at the edge of town.
	"What's wrong, Anne?" asked Anne who was sitting with her back to
whatever had caused Anne to blanch so suddenly.  "You look like you just
saw a ghost."
	"That wouldn't be far from wrong.  Preston just walked in."
	Marcia, ever the aggressive one, simply got up from the table and
approached Miss Preston from the side.
	"Hello, Miss Preston.  You do want to join us at our table."
	Miss Preston looked at Marcia and then at the two girls seated with
the totally passable trannie.  "Yes, seeing that I don't have a choice."
	Allie slipped out to use the ladies room and made a quick phone
call to Dan.  He then called the state police barracks.  It was determined
that there was an active warrant outstanding for her arrest as a material
witness in the on-going investigation of the strange case of Vera
Rachevsky.
	Dan soon joined them in the lobster shack.
	"I'm asking for a chance to explain.  I don't want forgiveness but
I do want to tell someone what I've endured all these years.
	"Some of what you may think you know is true, much of it is tissue
of lies created by Vera.  I did meet Vera back in Berlin before the war.
My brother, a poorly cut out boy, made a beautiful girl.  He began living
fulltime as a woman and soon became a ballet student with Vera.  I don't
need to tell you that he studied and began to perform as a woman.
	"My family was well off and sent him money each month.  He wrote
and told of his many lovers in the rising National Socialist movement, the
Nazi party.  My family was upset by the politics espoused by the Nazis and
asked me, since I was a student in Paris, to go to Berlin and try to get
him to come home.  Vera was furious that I dared to try to rescue my
brother. She swore there was no way she would give up a `courtesan' who
brought her so much money.  I was horrified that she dared to call my
beautiful brother a courtesan.
	"She wrote a letter copying words from many samples of my
handwriting, a letter denouncing my brother as a homosexual.  The same
Nazis who paid so highly to use him as a lover, of course, knew what he
was.  The letter's existence posed a danger to them if it fell into the
hands of those higher up in the party and they had taken no action.
	"Of course it appeared that I had denounced him.  Vera made sure
she had documentation of that lie and located me as soon as she was able to
come here after the war.  She followed me wherever I tried to settle down.
She made it seem that I murdered the poor boys who no longer wanted to be
part of her stable of male whores.
	"I have a suite at the `Inn on the Bay.'  You can find me
there. Good-bye for now."

	The group leaned their heads closer as Allie spoke softly.  "She's
lying.  Here's how I know^Å" She went on to tell the story of her
confrontation with Connie and how Connie called her in fear.
	Dan reassured her that Jane Preston would be arrested before the
afternoon was over, that there was ample proof she was a competitor of Vera
in procuring neophyte trannies, honing their femininity and forcing them to
work as call girls.
	He was wrong about her being arrested.  The witnesses said that her
car accelerated and crashed through a fence and into the bay.  It appeared
a deliberate suicide.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
	Dan and Allie decided to visit the scene the next day.
	Allie, now living full time as a girl, dressed carefully for the
outing.  She no longer feared exposure since many people in the college
community and in the town were aware of what she was.  It gave her a
special feeling to know they accepted her as she was and wanted always to
be.  She sat at her vanity table clad only in white nylon panties as she
brushed her hair until it glistened.  She ran her fingertips over her
nipples.  The herbal combination the Indian woman who kept a small shop on
Main Street had recommended was working.  Her breasts, which now easily
filled an A-cup bra and then some were living poof of that.  The lace edge
of her new push-up would highlight the soft curve of her growing breast to
advantage.  After adjusting her breasts in the bra for the best effect, she
stepped into a wide garter belt, a garter belt that was almost a girdle.
She lowered her panties and readjusted then over the garter belt.
	Allie smiled as she rolled her stockings and slid the delicate pale
gossamer over her smooth legs.  It wasn't so long ago that she managed to
run almost every pair of hose she tried to put on.  Now she had developed
it into s smooth, practical but very sensual performance.  Poor Dan will be
so completely enthralled watching me dress.  Poor Dan; that's a laugh.
Lucky Dan is more like it.  He'll enjoy every second of it.
	Nest she slipped on a soft petticoat followed by a powder blue
shirtwaist dress.  White patent leather pumps and matching purse.  She
clipped on demure but very noticeable earrings.  Her makeup retouched, she
selected her hat, with a flat wide brimmed straw with a blue ribbon.
	Dan was suitable impressed when he saw her waiting for him as he
pulled up in front of her house.  He had arranged for their lunch to be
served on the porch of the Inn by the Bay. The wine they enjoyed with their
omelets had left her sleepy.  Dan, who had thought of everything, led her
up to their room just so she could nap.
	The bed was turned down, the curtains drawn but the shades up.  A
rose lay on the pillow.
	Dan sat on the chair and drew Allie close.  She sat on his lap as
they kissed playfully.  Allie guided his hand to her knee.  She felt his
gentle touch and hoped he would take the hint.  Yes, his hand moved to the
top of her stockings.  She rose to her feet and raised her skirt as she
stepped closer to Dan.  He nuzzled her stiff dick through her panties.
Easing her panties lower, he freed her dick and gently sucked it.
	They were on the bed with her dress in a heap on the floor near his
shirt and trousers.  It was as if they were in competition for who would
suck whose cock first.  This competition was resolved in a wonderfully slow
sixty-nine that built to a screaming climax.
	The pair lay locked in each other's arms as each tasted their own
cum in their lover's mouth.
	Then Allie turned on her back and spread her lags as she drew Dan
close.  She guided his head to her breast where he hungrily tasted her
nipples.
	"I've never done this before," Dan whispered as Allie drew her legs
to her chest and guided Dan's dick to her hole.
	"I'll teach you."
	Dan was puzzled as Allie pushed him onto his back.  Her tongue
explored his raging hard-on making it painfully hard.  Despite his recent
orgasm, a pearl of precum appeared on the head of his cock.  Allie took it
with her tongue and then straddled her lover.
	She lowered her self onto Dan's dick and smiled down at him.  She
began to swivel her hips, slowly and then ever so slightly faster as Dan
withed and moaned under her the ministrations of Allie's not quite virgin
butt hole.
	The orgasm was unlike any either of them had ever experienced.
	"Well teach, do I pass?" smiled Ron as soon as he caught his
breath.
	"No, silly but I do; pass, pass as a girl I mean."
	"No."
	"Dan!"
	"No girl can ever be as great a lover as my Allie."
	"Since when am I your Allie?"
	"Since we got engaged."
	"Are you sure you want to spend your life with a freak?"
	"This ought to answer your question."
	Dan reached for a small box on the night table.  The ring was
impressive but nearly as impressive as the love and sex that lay ahead.


Mardee Louise Prynne