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cd-stories · 5 years ago

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A Year with Aunt Rose

I was about to graduate from grade school, 14 years old and ready to conquer the world. Mom and Dad said I had an attitude problem. I saw it as more of an expression of independence. Well, they were going to Europe for a year because of Dad’s job and I was to stay with Aunt Rose. She was my father’s sister and had bankrolled his import business. He pretty much did things her way or not at all even though he was president of the company. I rather saw that as whimping out on his part but he was my dad and I had to respect that and all the money he made anyway.

As soon as I was free the 5th of June, Mom and Dad were off to New York and London and who knows where else. Well, that was fine with me. I could use a break from parental supervision. I was a dyed in the wool slob and enjoyed it immensely. You know, sneakers, hole in the knee jeans, tee shirt, long, dirty hair, the hoop earring in the left ear, the usual. Aunt Rose was pretty bossy though and I admit that I was a little afraid of her too. She was sufficiently larger than I was so she could probably put a hurt on me. She seemed kind enough when I was dropped off at her place though. I think that may have just been to fake me out though.

The first clue that I got that things were going to be different for me with Aunt Rose was that she was a neat freak. Everything had to be just so. Everything in it’s place and a place for everything. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t follow that rule very well. I mean, after all, just look at me. It seems I just couldn’t leave anything alone or put it back where it came from and that bugged Aunt Rose something awful. She said, “I’m afraid we are going to have to teach you how to be a little neater about things Keenan.” “Whatever! Give it your best shot Aunt Rose.” Not that I was flippant or anything!

July 4th: She said since I was so messy that I would have to learn to clean up around the house and gain an appreciation for what ‘clean’ and ‘orderly’ meant. OK. I cleaned. I didn’t like it but I did it. I learned with corrections at every turn how to dust and run the vacuum and wash windows without streaking them. The worst part was the bathrooms. I hated getting down and cleaning the bowls but Aunt Rose was one of those ‘spotless’ people and there was only one right way to do things, HER way. I admit there was a certain degree of pride to be taken in a job well done. The reason I noticed was that I guess I never really did anything really well before, especially school, but I learned how to clean house really well. The only problem with that was that she made me wear a frilly pinafore apron while I was doing all my housework and any time I had my hands in water, she made me wear rubber gloves “so you won’t ruin your pretty nails” she said. What did I care about my nails anyway? Besides, they weren’t very pretty, at least not at first.

And she was somewhat of a health nut too. She had some herbal concoction that she made me take every day along with some others she got at the store. She said it would help me adjust and boost my immune system. What did I have to adjust to besides her infernal neatness? You wouldn’t believe the ingredients. She ground them all up and put them in big capsules and I had to take 8 a day. They had, let me see, anise, black cohosh, castleberry, fenugreek and licorice root and eye of newt and lizard tongues for all I knew. Can you believe it? She said the fenugreek would help keep me regular, which I must admit, it did. The rest of them? Who knows? All I noticed was that my skin seemed to be a little smoother and clearer and after a few weeks I did feel a bit mellower about dressing decent and staying clean. She made me begin putting some kind of stuff on my face before I went to bed at night. It was creamy and smelled nice and sank into my skin and lo and behold, soon my teen aged acne was gone. My complexion took on a new, soft, glowing appearance. It was kind of nice not having a pimply face for a change. That part I enjoyed.

It was pretty wild at the dinner table too. She corrected me at every turn. I thought Mom and Dad were something, but Aunt Rose told me how to bite and chew and how to sit and how to place and use my napkin and everything. Talk about nit picking!! Of course, I also learned how to set a proper table in the process, clear it and load the dishwasher. That was when I learned how to stoop from my knees rather than from my waist when I spilled something on the kitchen floor. It WAS so much more convenient for loading the washer too. I was really grateful for her teaching me that little trick because I had hurt my back riding my bike and sometimes it bothered me. You can’t bend over from the waist for very long without your back hurting at least not MY back. The only problem with bending down like that was I had to pick things up sideways but being so close to whatever it was, it was rather easier and she was right, it was easier on my back. I thought I was supposed to be on vacation and here I was employed for no wages as apprentice housekeeper and laundress. Well, I felt like a laundress with that apron on, especially over my shorts. Made me look like I was wearing a damn skirt and yes, I did laundry too, learning what went with what and about temperatures and delicates and all! I had never handled women’s underwear before. It was very nice and silky. I had no idea how nice it was until then. No wonder girls like it so much. It IS very nice to the touch. I tried to touch it a few times when I had a date but only got slapped for my efforts.

Well, she kept me at the cleaning until I actually got pretty good at it and it took me hardly any time at all compared to when I started. But gee, was I going to spend my whole summer in the house? I’d even gotten used to the apron. It wasn’t so bad I guess and it did accomplish the impossible. It kept me clean. Not that she insisted that I stay inside all the time. She offered on numerous occasions to take me shopping with her but if her shopping was anything like my Mom’s, I’d never survive it. I mean, in a shop, try on this and that and out again over and over. Boy, women sure do like to shop and buy clothes and shoes and jewelry and all that stuff. My idea of shopping is see it, go in and buy it and get the heck out of there.

August 2nd: Aunt Rose has been on me about my hair. She said to either have it cut or keep it clean and style it. Well, I like my hair and I like it long and wasn’t about to have it cut so I agreed to keep it clean, grudgingly. I should have known when she said ‘clean,’ she meant shiny, sparkly, squeaky clean. What she meant by ‘style it,’ I didn’t know. Aunt Rose had long hair herself and offered to show me how to take proper care of it so what the heck, it was her time and shampoo. She taught me all about taking care for long hair and how to shampoo and condition it and made me give it a hot oil soak once a week. I’ll have to admit it really looked great, nice and shiny and had a lot of body too, a lot too much for a boy, I think. I could have done an ad for one of those women’s hair shampoos as pretty as my hair had gotten. I could swing it around like they do in those shampoo ads too, downright fluffy it was.

It made me feel a little sexy sometimes as it swung across my shoulders if I wore a tank top. Every night I’d have to sit there and brush it to bring out the oils, she said. Long hair takes time, she said. Do it right or not at all was her motto. No wonder I never wanted to keep it nice before but then, I had all summer, only school would be starting soon and I knew she wasn’t going to let up on the hair or anything else. She seemed absolutely relentless about my grooming and deportment. I suppose it wasn’t too bad but I was beginning to have some doubts about myself lately. I felt, I don’t know, different somehow but just couldn’t put my finger on it. I think I was acting differently too, I don’t quite understand it!

She seemed pleased with my efforts and gave me some nice ties to keep my hair back and so I began having a pretty ribbon with a bow in it around my pony tails and sometimes I wore them up instead of down. I know that’s how girls wear them but I liked the way it bounced and swung around that way and I knew that European men wore ribbons in their hair. It was so clean and shiny and bouncy. I don’t know. I just liked it up sometimes. Aunt Rose said it looked real cute up in a pony tail. One night she had me come into her room and sat me down at her vanity table and proceeded to play with it. She brushed it forward and back combed it and parted it in the middle. Then she brought some forward and cut it straight across my brow and let the rest fall to the sides. “Doesn’t that look nice, Keenan?” “Well, yes Aunt Rose, it looks great but wow, bangs and everything and parted in the middle. I almost look like a girl with this nice top on.” “Oh, you just look very well groomed. Don’t be silly, she said.” ‘Ok, so I DON’T look like a girl. Whatever!’ I sure looked ‘different’ somehow. It was hard to put my finger on it or for that matter, how I felt about it.

As far as I was concerned, I was beginning to look darned feminine to go along with all my girlish chores. I didn’t mind helping Aunt Rose out but these feelings I was having were most peculiar. I believe I was becoming accustomed to the gentler side of life and continued handling of Aunt Rose’s lingerie was having a peculiar effect on me, like, I actually caught myself wondering what it felt like to wear something so soft and silky. I noticed I wasn’t complaining about stuff any more like I did when I first came there. I just sort of accepted things now as they were.

It was about this time that I seemed to be having a reaction to the herbs. I felt a little light headed and my chest was sore. I hadn’t taken much notice of it before but it had been going on for a while so subtly that I hadn’t taken any notice except for the itching. Aunt Rose suggested maybe I should quit the herbs and get my vitamins from the pharmacy. She was giving me other stuff too like vitamin C and Algae, Calmag and some other things. She said that whatever she did, she was not having my parents coming back and finding me sick. I really didn’t like taking that stuff with the weird names that she concocted, and so was just as happy when she came home with something else from the drug store and began giving me vitamin shots once a week and I had to only take some of the previous pills and two little brown pills a day from then on. What a relief, and they didn’t taste bad at all. They were coated with some stuff. I think something in that mix made me a little sick too for a few days. Every morning I wanted to heave but after about five days, it went away and I felt fine and my hair and skin never looked better. I was amazed to find myself liking to take care of my hair now. Gee, I never thought I’d like having pretty hair.

Aunt Rose was not one for sloppy dress either. I had come to her in torn blue jeans and a tee shirt. That situation rapidly evolved and she had me wearing dressier clothes around the house like she did and certainly whenever we went out. By the end of July, she had me in nice slacks in various colors and fabrics some of which felt very nice next to my softer skin, some I’m afraid with no zipper or one in the back and even one pair with the zipper on the side, tailored shirts in soft, silky fabrics and really neat, amazingly lightweight loafers with a low cut top down near my toes and low wedge or built up heels. I really think they looked a little girlish but they felt really good and made my feet look smaller, not that they were really big or anything. I really think I was walking a little differently, especially in the slightly built up heels but I found I really liked the higher ones better for some reason. They seemed to feel ‘natural’ and I rather enjoyed the way they fit and felt on my feet although the thought did cross my mind that these shoes made my feet look ‘pretty’. Everything was rather form fitting though and accentuated my small waist and my hips. I didn’t even know I HAD hips. You know what I mean. We all have them but mine were getting sort of roundish and filled my slacks rather well and it wasn’t just that. I was putting on fat all over except my waist. My pelvis seemed like it was actually growing wider, the bones even felt very different. I realized I was going through puberty and all but had no idea a boy’s hips got wider then. Well, you know what I mean. I came to appreciate my pretty aprons as I didn’t want to get my nicer clothes dirty. I guess better shirts button differently too but I learned to love how they looked and felt so silky next to my skin and seemed to flow with my movements, graceful, you know? I got so I didn’t like wearing undershirts with them even though the silky fabric made my nipples stand out.

My bummy old blue jeans became history. She threw them out. Aunt Rose would help me with the housework but I did the washing too. Since I did the washing, I had apparently gotten an appreciation for keeping myself clean too. She taught me how to separate things and how to treat various fabrics, how to fold and what to fold and what to iron. Oh yes, she taught me how to iron too. I found that once I understood how to flatten things and maneuver sleeves and what temperatures to use, it wasn’t so bad but that was a painful experience nonetheless.

I scorched one of her blouses and she punished me. She put these two little hoops on my ears to remind me to be more careful in the future and they hurt like blazes until the next morning. Then, I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t figure out how to do it and Aunt Rose refused to help and just complimented me on how nice I looked in my navy blue slacks, sky blue short sleeved top with a low vee neck and navy blue stripy wedge heeled sandals and the matching blue scrunchy in my hair. They were leather shoes, and with all kinds of padding in them. They were very comfortable to work in though and they made my feet look really tiny and cute. They were nice enough sandals. I’ll bet a girl would never have worn them without painting her toenails though and I had a flash of what mine might look like painted. Gee, what made me entertain painting my toenails? Well, let’s face it, they WERE tiny but the size inside said seven.

I didn’t think I took that large a shoe. At 13, I was only 5'4" tall and could have sworn my size was smaller. Aunt Rose was a good three inches taller and her feet were just a little bigger, I think. She got me a new pair of loafers too. They weren’t so well padded but they were comfortable even though they did have a built up heel on them. It must have been about 2 or 2 ½ inches but it was a blocky heel and I had no problem walking in them. They were almost as heavy as my hiking boots and the heel height was just about the same as cowboy boots. She told me I should have them because it was good for my calf muscles to vary my heel height during the day since I was on my feet so much. That made perfect sense to me although I could have sworn I had seen the same shoe on a few girls around town. Then it occurred to me that girl’s legs always looked nicer in high heels. I wondered if mine did too but then, nobody could see them with pants on and two inches wasn’t that high anyway. Cowboy boots were every bit that high. I wondered what my legs looked like from someone else’s point of view. Now, why in the world did I even care about that? I never had before!

Aunt Rose was rather attractive and she did have a way with clothes and cosmetics. She knew how to look her best. Apparently, she wanted me to look my best too. Well, that was OK I guess, as long as she was paying for the clothes. I was almost beginning to LIKE looking nice. It did give me a little sense of pride to know I looked nice. It was a far cry from jeans and tee shirts and I began to take a certain pride in my neat and orderly appearance and I must have spent at least a half hour on my hair every day. She said I was really lucky that is wasn’t dead straight like most boys. It fell in soft waves down to my shoulders and turned under a little bit. It seemed to be getting very full and thick lately but maybe that was just because of the conditioners.

September 1st: I start back to school next week. Aunt Rose has gotten me a whole new wardrobe both for school and home. The school clothes are very nice but they make me look a little odd, I think. Some of the older boys looked at me strangely for a awhile but after a couple weeks they got over it. Maybe it was that they had never seen a boy with manners before who knew how to dress and look nice for school. She certainly had drilled all of that into me about how to conduct myself and how to dress and move and everything. Most of them certainly didn’t bother with themselves. A couple of them asked me if I had gone to a Catholic grade school because of my dressing and hair style. I just told them my aunt was very fashion conscious and strict. She certainly had taught me how to be a gentleman and I do mean with the accent on ‘gentle.’ My movements seemed different to me, somehow smoother, less abrupt and jerky, more fluid I guess you’d say like a dancer maybe. Perhaps even a little feminine but somehow, even thought that should have bothered me, it didn’t. This was a new school for me and the kids didn’t know the old, sloppy me. Those two inch heels made me walk a little differently too as I noticed that I had to sway my hips a little more although they were hard to notice as my slacks were just the right length. I liked the way my friend Janice walked in hers and I think I copied her walk.

Mostly my school clothing consisted of nice slacks in various patterns, fabrics and colors, a silk shirt in various colors and maybe a gold chain or two and a pair of loafers over thin, knee high hose. She never let me wear sneakers anymore. Maybe it was the earrings and long hair that put them off at first along with the gold bracelet and the smallish wrist watch. Well, they were earrings and even though they were a punishment, I had come to like them. Now I had two in the left ear and one in the right. I liked to see that little glint of light on them when I tossed my head or looked in the mirror. They had little diamonds that slid around on them as they moved. Aunt Rose had gotten me a few other styles and showed me how to put them in and take them out, even some pretty dangle ones. She told me the ones she put on me were self piercing and that’s why they hurt so much. And the wrist watch, well, a full sized men’s would look ridiculous on my tiny wrist anyway. I wasn’t any bigger than most of the girls in my class.

I had some really pretty studs now that I wore to school and several pairs of dangles that I wore at home. I don’t know why I let her talk me into those but they were very pretty and I loved the feel of them as they brushed my neck as they swung and I had seen dangles on some men on TV but I was a little afraid to wear them to school. It was really odd how my feelings about my appearance had changed since Aunt Rose had shown me the difference between slob and well groomed. Sometimes I’d even put my hair up so I could see them better although Aunt Rose preferred it down, cascading about my shoulders. I’m glad she cut in those bangs. I wouldn’t be able to see otherwise I think. One time, she saw me with my hair up in a pony tail and asked if I would like to try something else, a different way of putting it up. “Sure, why not?” I said. So she proceeded to teach me how to do a braid from my crown back. She told me I could tie it off with a scrunchy or a ribbon but to be honest the ribbon looked nicer. I remember that’s how the men used to do it in colonial days. So I started tying it up in all colors of ribbons to match what I was wearing on top. I had to admit, I did have pretty hair now. It was odd to think how I had come to think of my hair and feet as pretty. I did love the way that braid looked on me and had gotten used to wearing the dressier shoes.

A lot of the ‘at home’ clothes consisted of handsome tops that had a sort of self attached neck tie that was tied in a bow or that I could tie like a regular necktie. Auntie said they were the kind of top that 19th century poets used to wear. I’d wear slacks and a couple of them were designed so full that they actually looked like skirts I’m afraid. I think she called them Palatzo Pants or something. And unless I wore a somewhat higher built up heel, they dragged on the carpet. They sure had a lot of material in them and flowed all over the place when I walked. My newest sandals had a higher wedge heel with a single wide strap across my toes. I guess they must have been at least 3" high. They were cute. I felt a little guilty when I thought about painting my toes. I guess that was what wearing a long skirt felt like although I’d never had a skirt on in my life. Then that thought about what my legs would look like in a skirt crossed my mind. What is the matter with me? First I’m thinking lingerie and now a skirt and I’m enjoying 3" heels?

She got me some new night wear too, mostly nightshirt types, very silky and they came just below my knees except one that came all the way to my ankles and had long sleeves. It seemed to be a heavy satin. I thought that would come in handy in the winter. The fit was grand and loose and they hung somewhat from my chest as well as my shoulders. How strange. I thought my chest was flat but it seemed I was poking out some there along with my wider pelvis that seemed to force me to walk differently than I used to. No matter. At least they didn’t have pockets for breasts in them so I knew they couldn’t be girl’s nighties. Oh, they did have some pretty lace on them but Auntie pointed out that 19th century men wore a great deal of lace, a fact I knew to be true as I’d seen many pictures of them. They were very nice and I thanked her profusely because they felt so neat. She got me a nice quilted robe too.

October 1: Aunt Rose has been at me every day about how I sit and stand and walk and talk. It feels like she’s training me to become King or something, you know, Regal? I’m sure she only wants the best for me but she is at me about every nuance of my disposition lately. She wants me to sit down and rise slowly, gracefully, and not just plop into a chair and she wants me to stand with my feet together and cross my legs slowly at the knee when I sit or at worst, my ankles and to keep my knees together when I sit and arise. She won’t let me sit with my one ankle resting on my knee any more. Whatever could that matter when I was wearing pants? I could understand that if I wore skirts but I don’t.

She even made me carry a book around on my head for a whole week at home until my walk smoothed out with my high heels on. She said I was too ‘bouncy’, whatever that means. Said I’d never be able to be a waiter and carry a tray if I didn’t smooth out my walk. I really didn’t fancy becoming a waiter but I smoothed out the walk nonetheless as I realized that we may have guests and I might be the one serving them. Just to prove her point, she’d have me load up a complete service for one person on large platter with a drink and everything and take it to the table and back to the kitchen when we were done eating. You know, she was right. I had to learn to take a little smaller steps to but if I hadn’t smoothed out the walk and learned to move my hips gracefully, I’d have spilled the drinks every time. The trick was learning to keep my upper body quiet while I let my hips take up the balancing. This also caused me to learn to walk in smaller steps with my feet close together and more in a straight line.

She taught me the proper way to get in and out of a car too, placing my rump in first and swinging my legs in afterwards and then reversing it on exit. I never even knew there WAS a right or wrong way but that made it so easy, I wondered why I’d never thought of it myself. I suppose Mom and Dad would have shown me all this but they weren’t’ around now. She showed me how to take small bites instead of a mouthful, said it was bad etiquette to take such big bites as though I were a wolf devouring a carcass, and chew slowly and with my mouth shut. Now there’s something I never heard of before. I used to gulp everything down and just began to realize that I never really enjoyed my meals before. They were just necessary evils to be gotten over with as quickly as possible. But eating slowly and politely gave me time to really enjoy the meal and taste the food. Eating wasn’t such a bore anymore. It was time for small bites and conversation. She was teaching me how to socialize during a meal. It was rather fun not to just sit down to gobble and go.

I’ve been here six months now and I must be doing too much at home because my body is sore and despite all the work, I seem to be getting soft. My chest is tender and my slacks are getting pretty tight, so tight in fact that I’m a little uncomfortable in them, my underwear included. I really didn’t eat all that much and couldn’t understand why I’d be putting on weight, especially on my bum. I mentioned this to Aunt Rose and she came up with a solution.

She got me special underpants to wear that kept my boy things up and out of the way, not that it amounted to much lately, didn’t even seem to want to rise to the occasion but that garment certainly has made it easier for me to cross my legs at the knee and it gives me a nice smooth line in front. There’s no more bulge there to get in the way of crossing my legs and it’s ever so much more comfortable and looks nicer in all my slacks now too. The only problem with them is that I have to sit to pee since there’s no placket even if the slacks have a front zipper.

Well, I can get used to it I suppose except now I have to wipe in front as well as back as I was never well developed and now I appeared to be losing ground. My slacks are a size nine and when she got them for me, they were nice and loose. Now I more or less fill them completely although my waistline didn’t seem to expand along with everything else. If anything, it’s getting smaller. Well, what the heck. I’m not through growing yet, I’m sure.

October 31: Aunt Rose lives in a rather posh neighborhood and the young girl about my age a few houses up was having a Halloween party. She invited me either out of courtesy to Aunt Rose or because I was in her class, I don’t know which. I didn’t really have a costume but Aunt Rose came to the rescue again.

She borrowed an evening gown, did up my hair in a chignon and made my hair really pretty with beads wound into it and I wore matching long dangle earrings and full dramatic evening makeup too. She got me a pair of matching white pumps with 3 inch slender heels and taught me how to walk and dance in them for a few days before the party. I had always thought that slender high heels must be difficult to manage but was pleasantly surprised to find that these were quite comfortable and I really didn’t mind wearing them for an evening at all. I thought they made my feet look really sexy. My real problem was that I seemed to be rather enjoying these lovely garments and the way they made me feel. By the time the party came around, I suppose I had become rather expert at walking in them so as to not give myself away too soon. My new sandals were that high of course but they didn’t have so small a landing zone. I suppose it was just that the heel was so slender and feminine that worried me but my ankles soon adapted and the little soreness in my calves left too.

The day of the party, she gave me a manicure, shaping my now longer nails with very red polish and also a pedicure with matching polish. I couldn’t wait to see how my toes looked in my sandals now. It had been quite a while since I had cut my nails and wearing the rubber gloves had certainly kept them nice and strong, not to mention long. She shaped them just like a girl’s at least a ¼" beyond my finger tips and I can’t tell you how it felt to have such pretty hands and feet. It was weird how I reacted to this. It was just part of the costume of course, but it did give me a little thrill. Well, I want to tell you I was scared to death but turned out to be the belle of the ball. It was a blast.

I’d never really been popular and I’d never danced with a boy before and they didn’t have a clue as to who the fox in the gown was until the unmasking and then, they didn’t believe it. Let me rephrase that. They didn’t WANT to believe it! The boys were so embarrassed by some things they said to me in front of witnesses that I just knew I was going to be quite safe in school in spite of this little deception. They had lined up to dance with me and their reputations would be ruined if I spilled the beans on them. The attention was quite flattering and I’m afraid I rather enjoyed it. Naturally, I did my best pretense at being a real girl so as to pull off the masquerade successfully and was very apologetic to the boys for fooling them. I really played it to the hilt with the gentle voice and all. The girls were amazed at not only who I was but that I did such a wonderful job of fooling everybody. I had to admit that I really did make a passably pretty girl and the girls seemed to warm to me after the unmasking. I had never been popular but I was that night.

Auntie Rose and I had quite a discussion when I got home about how I had enjoyed myself and about all the boys I danced with. She seemed very pleased that I had such a good time. It was a great deal of fun although I must admit my emotions were somewhat on a roller coaster, feeling giggly and elated on one hand and a bit embarrassed on the other, first for having such a wonderful time being a girl for the evening and secondly, especially when in the arms of a big, strong, handsome, he-man type and feeling very submissive, like a real girl I suppose. It was rather easy to forget I was a boy when a big handsome guy was twirling me around the dance floor.

November 30: Now that Aunt Rose has my manners corrected and my mannerisms straightened out, she’s decided to work on my grooming again. I must admit my hair has become quite long and full bodied and she said she just couldn’t resist doing something with it. It’s down to my shoulder blades now. I had no idea what she meant but she hadn’t hurt me so far, except for the self piercers and that was my fault. Since Halloween, the kids at school have gotten used to the new me. I’ve caught some of the boys looking at me like they do the girls. Have my nice clothes and new manners given me the flavor of a girl? That’s a little unnerving. Could that be lust I see? Heaven forbid. Some of them are really cute though.

She sat me down and wet and wound, clipped and otherwise messed with my hair until she had it all up on curlers. I must have been a sight. I protested, “Auntie, boys don’t put their hair up like this!” “Maybe so, but yours is so very pretty, I just can’t keep my hands off it. I’m sorry if it upsets you but I think you will like the way it looks when it’s done.” While it dried, there were other things to attend to. My manicure never quite resumed it’s boyish charm and my nails remained rather rounded although just a little longer and then longer until they protruded a good 3/8 of an inch and they always now had a coat or two of hardener on them to ‘protect’ them, she said. They were quite pretty even with only the clear polish I now wore daily.

I had gotten used to wearing white hose to school. Actually, I’d always worn white hose to school. I remember when men wore knee high hose and attached it to garters about their knees. My grand dad wore those. And I remember that in the 1940s boys wore knickers with high socks too. Apparently someone had a better idea. The ones I wore now were rather more sheer, I think, and were held up just by elastic below the knee. Some even had pretty patterns in them. I could see my toenails through them and had thought how much nicer they would look if they were in a pair of open toed sandals with sheer, tan hose at school like the girls wore. Aunt Rose had let me keep them painted ever since the party. The scruffy lad who had landed on her doorstep never would have allowed her to paint his toes but I was no longer that scruffy lad. I was much more gentile.

While in the midst of that thought, Auntie interrupted by telling me that she had gotten me a few pairs of casual shoes for at home and school and placed four boxes in front of me while we waited for my hair to dry. I kicked off my shoes and gleefully opened the first. They were a nice, soft loafer with about a two inch blocky wedge heel and a woven vamp in a little lighter color, just perfect for around the house, maybe even out shopping or school. I tried them on and walked around a bit. They were very comfortable. The second was a pair of summer sandals. They were very nice in white leather with several ½" straps across the vamp with a large opening for my pretty painted toes and then an ankle strap and buckle attached to the sling back. They had a crepe sole and a wedge heel also although not quite as high. The name on the inside said ‘Cobbie Cuddlers.’

The third pair was a pair of pumps like men used to wear to the opera. I’ve seen them in older movies. I guess that’s where the expression ‘opera pump’ came from. They were simply an open slip on like a girl’s skimmer flat but with about a ¾" shaped heel. They were very handsome in patent leather and, considering what was to come, may indeed have been girl’s skimmers but I really don’t think I cared at this point. The vamp was cut very low, so low that they actually showed a little of the cleavage between my big toe and the next one. They would look good with either my black or my light green slacks with sheer hose and were very cute though. I loved how they made my feet look.

And then it hit me: these ARE girl’s skimmer flats and I LIKE them. I think I’m really in trouble! The last box I’m afraid, was a bit more disturbing, more of a shock, really. I had tried on all the others and liked them. I did not know if I should try these on nor whether I should be prepared to like them and wondered what Auntie must have been thinking when she bought them. They were also pumps, very fashionably cut, with about a 3" contemporary women’s heel like the ones I had worn to the party. They were obviously lovely women’s pumps and even though I had loved my evening as a girl for the Halloween party, I didn’t know what to say or do. These were for wearing with dresses and skirts. They were downright sexy. “Auntie!”, I cried. “I can’t. These are far too pretty for a boy. They belong with a skirt or a pretty dress and I have nothing to wear them with.” She just smiled. That was certainly a lame comment on my part, I thought. I simply loved them. I just had a hard time admitting it. Oh, I felt my boy self slipping away. Keenan was in trouble.

On the other hand, the thought of wearing such pretty shoes as a natural part of my everyday costume excited me beyond reason. I blushed and my pert and swollen nipples got very hard and I had a series of strange pulsating contracting sensations between my legs. It was really difficult to describe. I felt flushed, very flushed. Seeing my hesitancy, Auntie suggested, “please, won’t you try those on too? They are quite lovely aren’t they?” I slowly put them on my feet. The fit was perfect. I stood up, saying nothing. Oh my gawd, I thought, I’m reveling in real femininity, my very own first pair of high heels. What is happening to me? I love them! “Oh, Auntie, they are adorable. Thank you” I heard myself say in much too girlish a tone and inflection. There went that pulsating again. That feels nice!

I walked confidently to the other side of the room and back with no difficulty at all, having had plenty of practice on Halloween, gliding and undulating my hips as was appropriate in such foot wear as she had taught me before and I’m afraid I had been doing ever since no matter what shoes I had on. It was at that moment that I realized that my gait had developed into that of a young lady and I had little, if any, control over it. I had truly copied Janice’s walk. I now walked just like my girlfriends. I talked like my girlfriends. No wonder the boys were looking at me and small wonder I had found so much acceptance among the girls. I traced it back in my mind to all my practice with the trays of food. I no longer strode. I walked…gracefully, shamefully for a boy, I suppose.

I confess, I did love my new high heels and decided then and there that I should keep them and enjoy them even though they made me feel terribly fragile and feminine. It was a divine, sensual feeling like none I’d had in my young life. I wasn’t so young anymore that I didn’t know what erotic meant and these shoes made me feel erotic. I confess I was having great difficulty feeling like a real boy anymore. I was so much more emotional and expressive than I used to be. Perhaps I had become a sissy, but then, boys wouldn’t be looking at me like they were if they just saw me as a sissy. They were not leering in disgust. It was a feeling far superior to the masturbating that I had recently discovered but that did not produce near the excitement the pumps or my softening chest did. But yet, in the back of my mind, I felt that I was doing wrong, something that was not considered ‘normal’. Perhaps I wasn’t ‘normal’ anymore. Perhaps I didn’t care.

I decided to keep them on though, much to Auntie’s delight. I spent the rest of the evening in that costume and confess that I must have spent more time than usual passing a full length mirror, primping with my new hairdo, straightening my blouse or admiring my new pumps. I was terribly aware of my girlishness that night and confess that it gave me a sense of freedom and power to be able to express myself openly this way. All that was missing was the lovely makeup that I wore to the party and that pretty girl would be back.

Auntie seemed to be smiling a lot that night. She was also very cordial although she continued to point out the flaws in my deportment when they occurred, which were far less to the point she rarely criticized me anymore. I loved the view I got of my pumps when I crossed my legs and crossed and uncrossed them a lot that night. What was going on in my mind that I should be so fond of feminine foot wear or clothing? I hadn’t a clue. Perhaps it was the wonderful feel of the clothing she had gotten me or perhaps it was that I was now less opposed to what might be called ‘feminine’ clothing as I surely loved the pumps and they were surely the ultimate in feminine clothing. But then, I was reasonably sure that everything that Auntie bought me was girl’s clothing. Did she know something I didn’t about how my puberty was going to turn out? Were there options I hadn’t heard about? Why was I so curvy? Why was I excited about the fat accumulating on my chest and bottom? None of the other boys had bodies like mine.

I told her about my sore chest and she suggested that I take off my cotton tee shirt and put on a satin one. Apparently she had foreseen the problem and had gotten me some really nice new silky undershirts. They were ever so much softer and gentler to my chest but instead of the wide straps of some, they had little rope type straps or stretch lacy ones or cap sleeves that held them up. I’d never seen anything like them before. She got them for me in an array of pretty colors and styles and I admit that just looking at myself in my control panties and new Tee shirts, I still looked very girlish and it gave me a certain giddiness. They were very light and I hardly knew I had them on but they did accentuate the bumps on my chest.

“What are these called, Auntie?” “They are a ‘camisole’ dear. It’s an old English word for a silk undershirt.” “Oh, I see.” “There are a couple other styles you may want to try called ‘chemise’ and ‘teddy’. I got you a couple of those too. I’m afraid they have a good bit of lace on them though and chemises are really to be worn with a dress. They are like a very short slip.” “Thank you Auntie.” The camisoles were rather plain but the chemise and teddies were resplendent with lovely lace as well as pockets for my ‘breasts’. And I was getting flushed again as there now seemed to be a little bit of something to put into those pockets and suddenly and without warning the thought ran through my head how nice they would look if I WERE truly filled out like a GIRL! What a terrifying and delightful thought! Talk about mixed emotions! Why was I thinking about dresses and high heels and boys and breasts?

I told Aunt Rose she could get rid of my cotton tee shirts and, in fact, anything I had that was cotton. These were so much nicer and they felt wonderful under my silky tops, shirts, blouses, whatever they were. But not only were the new undershirts softer, I myself was softer, not only in my body but in my speech and in my manner. Perhaps I was also ‘softer’ in my mind, not that I was losing it or was weaker in spirit, but that I was becoming a much gentler person under the care of my Aunt.

I was no longer, if I had ever been, what my peers would call ‘masculine’ at all or anything resembling the rough and boyish slob that arrived on her doorstep. My top and bottom both seemed to have a mind of their own and my arms, well, if they ever had any defined muscles, they didn’t now. They had become slender and unmuscular. I remember that I used to have little maybe 5/8" pink areola (I had to ask Aunt Rose what they were called) on my flat little chest but now they were at least an inch and ½ “ across and turning from pink to brown and becoming awfully fleshy in the bargain. My chest was no longer flat. I protruded noticeably and my pretty nighties hung down from those protrusions rather than my shoulders now!

I’m not so sure it would be fair to even call it a chest any more. I guess that was why I looked so nice in my new underwear. In fact, I swear there were girls in my class who were not so well endowed as I seemed to be and they were careful to be wearing a bra to uplift their tender young bosoms. It flashed through my mind that a bra might not even look at all out of place on my own chest. It was almost like I was growing a lovely feminine bosom to go along with my widening hips and heavier fanny. What a strange thought, a thought that made me tingle with a strange, forbidden delight. Was I growing tits? Apparently, I WAS and the appropriate desires that went with them too I’m afraid! No wonder I thought some of those boys were cute!

When Aunt Rose saw this, she wrote a note to the school and I was excused from gym class permanently. It WAS a bit embarrassing having my chest bounce around up and down and back and forth while I played basketball. It also hurt a bit every time I came down on the floor hard and the other boys in the locker room were having a great deal of fun at my expense.

They made remarks and they stared but they didn’t abuse me.

A few of them were teasing me in a very odd way, almost like they tease with a girl they are flirting with. I would have to cover my nipples with my hands then to cover my obvious excited embarrassment, small is it was. You might think that my reaction would have been an erection. Not so. Indeed, not possible. If I had to give you a size for comparison, I would have to say that my ‘chest’ had grown to about the size of two half navel oranges plus, of course, my distended nipples that now responded every time I became excited. Lately, all I had to do was touch them and washing my ‘chest’ in the tub had lately become arousing.

She finished with the curlers and took them out and brushed my hair again back combing it some but now it fell in soft and tighter waves instead of just gentle ones. It looked very nice and full, I thought, and I thanked her for putting in the time and effort to make me look nice. “It’s my pleasure,” she said. “It gives me pleasure to see you looking so ‘handsome.” We had a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings and she let me help her prepare it. I forgot to tell you that she was letting me help her with the cooking now too. I was never one to volunteer for work before coming to live with her but now I seemed to want to know just everything about running a home.

She said I had become quite ‘handy’ around the house. I suppose I had at that. I found I rather liked cooking and I just LOVED to bake! Since it was a special occasion, before dinner was served, I went to my room and put on my Palazzo pants with a lacy blouse and some flesh colored hose and my new high heeled dress pumps. As I slipped them onto my feet and stood up, I at once became excited again as it was just like having a long skirt on with my heels. Suddenly, the thought of wearing a real skirt or a dress and makeup again was tantalizing and provoked another round of giddy excitement but after a few seconds I was able to return to the table in my pants and white blouse without arousing suspicion in Aunt Rose about the way I was feeling. I just felt so terribly girlish and grown up in hose and high heels. If I were honest with myself, I would admit that I had indeed become quite girlish and was unashamedly loving it although I certainly couldn’t explain it. Puberty was really a strange time, I guess.

I had always been rather a layabout at home but here I was more useful and actually enjoying it. Imagine that! I did, of course, realize by this time that absolutely everything that I had learned would ordinarily be considered to be strictly in a young girl’s domain but I didn’t mind. I was much more serene now and I was enjoying all the lovely things that Aunt Rose had taught me and the soft and pleasant clothing that she had gotten me. It seemed that the wearing of all this pretty clothing was having quite an effect on my mind. I truly now enjoyed it and wondered if I could give it up when Mom and Dad came home.

I just loved my new pumps. They made me feel so much more grown up.

December 5th: Pearl Harbor Day. It was an infamous day in history. As young as I was I could not understand why the Japanese had done that to us. I was glad we were friends again though. It’s silly to hold a grudge forever. Well, Christmas was coming and I had already gotten Aunt Rose a gift that I thought she’d like. It was a matching set of ceramic necklace and earrings. She had similar ones so I hoped she would like them.

I had no idea how lavish my Christmas was to be. I came downstairs in my satin nightie with the bow on the left shoulder and mules and house coat on Christmas morning but pretty soon Aunt Rose had me trying all sorts of things on. She told me to go back upstairs and get myself into a matching pair of panties and a chemise and come back down. I think she got me a little of everything: slacks and shoes and hose and underwear and shirts and earrings, chains and bracelets. That was the first pile.

I noticed that the shirts buttoned the same way hers did and asked her if they were really shirts. “Well, no honey, they are blouses but your chest isn’t really built for shirts anymore. You certainly must have noticed how nice your ‘chest’ is beginning to look in your nighties and underwear. You’re still growing. You need more room in there and blouses are made with extra roomy chests. You DO seem to have done some lovely growing there honey.” “Boy, have I ever Aunt Rose. I just can’t understand it. I’m so flabby it’s like I actually have breasts or something. The night you gave me the pretty shoes, I had a flash of how this chest would look in a pretty satin and lace bra. Isn’t that wild?” “Not so wild dear.”

“Perhaps you should treat them like breasts then and see how you like it,” she said. “Open that blue box over there.” “Oh, my! Matching panties and bras. How sweet. My heavens, what am I saying. I’m a boy and I just said, ‘how sweet’ and am excited about wearing matching panties and a bra!” “Are you really excited? Didn’t you just love the Halloween party and dancing with all those boys in your pretty gown and high heels?” “Oh, yes Aunt Rose. It was a divine, wonderful evening. I had a great time and I loved the gown and everything and the boys treated me so nicely. It was a really neat costume Aunt Rose and so resourceful of you to think of something so simple and effective as a disguise.” “And don’t you enjoy wearing your new pumps with the higher heels?” (Blushing) “Yes, Auntie, very much I’m afraid, even though I can’t move or even think of myself as a boy when I wear them.”

“Well, then, if you liked it so much, why not try some other pretty things. Would you like to?” “Oh, Aunt Rose, I don’t know! I really shouldn’t be liking these things but I confess, I do. I love them. I love the soft, silky things you’ve given me but I don’t think I should be feeling this way. I’m supposed to be a boy, not a girl, and these are all girl things but yet I don’t think I feel like a boy anymore. And I look in the mirror even naked and I don’t see Keenan. I see some kind of hybrid girl staring back at me. My hips look like I should be looking forward to motherhood. I’m not sure what a boy should feel like at my age and I’m not even sure I’m a real boy anymore or whether I even care.”

“Here dear, slip on these panties and tuck your little self away and then slip your arms though the straps of this bra. There now, I’m going to fasten it for you and then I want you reach in and to take your breasts in your hands and arrange them in the cups so they look nice and your nipples are about where the seams are.” “Like this Aunt Rose? I’ve never worn a bra. Oh my! They do look much better don’t they? And they ARE breasts, aren’t they?” “Why, of course dear. You’re developing the figure of a lovely young lady and that’s what bras are for, uplifting and enhancing a lady’s figure. Now slip your chemise back over them.”

“I’m so confused. You’ve taught me so much since I’ve been here and I’ve changed so much too. I hardly recognize myself. I had no idea a boy could become a girl during puberty! Look how soft I’ve become and my nails and hair and the way I move and talk and…! My whole body is so smooth and soft and round.” All of a sudden it was like a hand grenade going off in my mind, I realized that it was ALRIGHT to feel the way I did.

And no, I was no longer a real boy in the usual sense and as such had every right to enjoy my girlish things. If I had girl feelings, and I could look like a real girl, as it seemed I most certainly did, then it should be alright to wear girl clothes! Then I thought of that silly expression, ‘if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” What a revelation! “Alright. I’ll start opening the other boxes.”

“Well, if you want to see a new you, begin with that small package with the white ribbon.” “Oh, hose and garters. And so pretty too. My Mom wears these. I think they are much prettier than those dumb pantyhose.” “Me too, honey. Do you know how to put them on?” “I’ve seen her do it a lot. I think so.” “Remember, they have the potential to be rather risque if you don’t sit properly. You mustn’t let boys look up your skirts and see your panties.” “But Auntie, I’ve never worn a skirt.” “Oh, I think that is about to change dear.” I proceeded to put on the garter belt and then the hose, hooking it up to it’s six garters. “Now the pink box,” she said. Obediently I opened it and found several full and half slips and two teddies. They were all satin. I took off the chemise and I slid a full slip over my head and adjusted the straps so the cups fell around my bosom. Nestled in the cups of my totally unpadded A cup bra, I now had to admit that I did indeed have a bosom. Not much, but a very real bosom, the bosom of a GIRL, sensitive, genuine breasts, a tiny waist and flaring hips.

“All right, now any one of those hanging packages.” The first one was a beautiful wine colored crepe dress with a full skirt, long sleeves and a high collar. It had a slender self belt and a back zipper. It looked very conservative but it was sexy nonetheless because of the material and it clung to every curve. I slid it over my head and actually managed to get the zipper almost all the way up before she had to help me. It seemed I was much more limber than I used to be. “Stand still dear. You’re almost adept at dressing as a girl but we need to get a little makeup on you again before you see yourself. These are girl’s clothes after all, and you already know you make a pretty girl. I really blushed at that remark but nonetheless said a sincere ‘thank you.’ After all, I knew that I DID make a pretty girl after all the ‘flies’ buzzing around me at the party. “Now the little package over there and that oblong one.” I opened the little one first and there was a pair of lovely crystal dangle earrings in it. I took my others out and put them on.

The next box was a pair of party pumps with 3 ½" heels. They matched the dress perfectly. I slid them on my feet and the fit was perfect also. Having danced all night in heels, I now had no problem with these that were just a little higher even though they feminized my gait even more as I strived to put one foot directly in front of the other like a model. I felt deliciously grown up all of a sudden and then realized that it was a grown up GIRL I was feeling like. I looked down at my feet and realized I had to lean over just a bit to see them. My tits were in the way of my view. The shoes were beautiful and so was my bosom. I just knew I was in trouble thinking about my breasts in those terms as I had visions of them becoming large, full, round mounds to be enjoyed to the eye and in sexual pleasure. I got a flash of that hunk Ron Melany caressing them with those big hands of his. “Alright darling, go look at yourself and tell me if you really think you are still a boy.”

I walked gracefully, swinging my hips as I’d been taught and which now was so natural, keeping my upper body quiet and swinging my arms with the elbows turned in a little, to the mirror in the hall. The click of my heels on the hardwood floor sent a thrill through me that I won’t soon forget. I really can’t describe it to you. I knew I was too young to be having such sensual feelings. Or WAS I?

I just KNEW I shouldn’t be having the feelings I was having, wonderful, girlish, sensual, sexual feelings and yet I realized that these were MY clothes. I could keep them and wear and enjoy them at home, if not in school. There before me stood the reason I was so popular at the party. I was really pretty, not just cute. In that dress, it was obvious that I no longer possessed the body or face of a boy and apparently I no longer possessed the mind of one either because I was simply thrilled at my reflection. And my pert little bosom looked lovely in it’s new surroundings with my tiny waist and widening hips in that full skirted dress. This vision should have given me a raging erection but in fact, I had TWO, but both on my chest. Again that tantalizing twitching invaded my groin. It felt wonderful but threatened to turn my knees to jelly. I’m afraid Aunt Rose recognized the expression on my face and the feelings I was having. I refused to be ashamed. I was too much in a state of bliss. Apparently, she had experienced the same feelings on different occasions.

They were MY breasts and they were at full attention, poking naughtily out against the silky fabric of my new dress, visual evidence of my new excitement. Nothing happened in my previous pleasure center except for those lovely little pulsing contractions that felt so good. It was asleep, perhaps never to awaken again. I reached up and touching them, almost swooned. The way I felt right now, I didn’t even care. I turned this way and that and curtsied. “Oh, Aunt Rose, I’m really pretty, aren’t I?” “Yes darling. You are really pretty. You make a truly lovely girl. Now why would a pretty little thing like you want to be a boy and for heavens sake, why would you want to be called Keenan?

“I see your point Auntie. It doesn’t fit at all, does it? How about Alecia. I think that is such a pretty name.” “Good choice. You shall be Alecia from now on I think, even when you have slacks on because you will want to be wearing your bra and a blouse over it now and perhaps some pretty shoes, won’t you?”. “I’m afraid I will, Auntie.” “Alecia is a very pretty name and you are a very pretty girl. Now, model your other new things for me dear.” “Auntie, this is a little embarrassing but I’m having such a divine time like this, do you think maybe that my new vitamins might have something to do with what has happened to my mind and body?” “Well, dear, I suppose that may be true. Why?” “I just love the way I’m feeling so much. Could we maybe…double up on those things and see?” “Why, of course dear. It won’t hurt you at all. We’ll begin tomorrow. What a splendid idea! We’ll give you two shots a week from now on.” I then knew for sure that Auntie was behind my unusual changes but as the saying goes, I couldn’t have cared less. I was actually grateful. I didn’t understand WHY she had done it though.

And so, I worked my way though five more outfits and accessories and a new pair of pretty shoes with each one, both flat and high heeled opera pumps and wedge heeled sandals too. They were all lovely as were the other gifts. She had gotten me all kinds of lovely rings and bracelets and earrings and hair accessories. There were skirts and blouses too but no slacks in this pile. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to be Alecia at home so you may wear what ever you wish. I’ve gotten you some cute flats, sandals, high heeled slippers and even a bathing suit.” I was, I think quite understandably, on cloud 9. I spent the rest of the day in a new dress with a full skirt, reveling in how it caressed my smooth, nylon clad legs and how my pumps made me take such tiny, feminine steps and how they made my calves and ankles look.

I knew I was going to have to pretend to be Keenan at school and the thought was not a pleasant one at all. I couldn’t walk or act like him anymore. I had become rather flamboyantly feminine always. I had no friends that were boys anymore except for Gil and he was rather girlish too, I’m afraid. He was an orphan who lived with his aging grandmother. We both hung out with the girls now and I felt sorry for him that he hadn’t turned into a girl too as I was so fortunate to be doing. I felt sorry for him. He was such a dweeb.

Of course, being my best friend, he had been over to the house and had come to know the real me and no longer called me Keenan either. I was Alecia to him too and I’m afraid the poor dear slipped up a couple times in front of the girls when he addressed me at school. Now THAT got quite a reaction, I must tell you and they began to call me Alecia too as there was little left to contradict that name. I didn’t know if my heart could stand all this wondrous excitement.

I’m afraid the mirrors in the house got quite a workout that day. I felt like I was trapped…trapped in Paradise and never wanted to be rescued. For the rest of Christmas vacation, I wore only dresses and skirts and pretty shoes, doing my hair up and wearing light makeup. Gil dropped by to see what I had gotten for Christmas and was completely blown away. I’m so totally sure he was jealous that I felt even more sorry for him.

Each day after that, when Christmas vacation ended, I couldn’t wait until I could get home and into my totally pretty things again and be me. What was ever to become of me? I was beginning to HATE being a boy named Alecia. Sometimes when the teacher would call for Keenan, I didn’t answer. That wasn’t my name. It failed to register. It wasn’t that I was daydreaming or defiant. That just wasn’t my name anymore, in MY mind at least.

Auntie had begun calling me Alecia ALL the time now both in and out of the house. I’m afraid it was a little embarrassing when I didn’t have any makeup or a dress on but it must have been only in MY mind. Apparently, the rest of the world only saw Alecia. Strangers always called me ‘miss’ no matter how I was dressed. My voice was changing but into that of a mature girl.

And then I realized that I had become so pretty and feminine over the summer and so far this school year, that it didn’t matter if I wore a flour sack, I would still be taken for an Alecia. It was a wonderful feeling. People in the shops called me ‘Miss’ or Alecia if they knew me no matter what I wore. Men and boys held doors open for me. I didn’t have to worry about being found out as Keenan anymore. I WAS Alecia now. Oh, my goodness! What has happened to me? Of course, this didn’t escape Gil either and he stopped treating me like just another effeminate boy too. He held doors open for me too poor dear. I really wished that I could do something for him, something wonderful like Auntie had done for me.

January 20: the shock of Christmas was waning and Alecia was growing both in size, although not in height, and in femininity.

She was beginning to have decided , make that EXTREME, difficulties pretending to be a boy at school. She absolutely had to wear a bra all the time and she wore blouses to school with her slacks and androgynous leaning toward feminine shoes and she was not passing as Keenan well at all. It was a cruel joke. Her new true nature was showing all over the place and others responded to it and to her beauty, so out of place in an alleged male package. She was going through a perfectly normal female puberty, only she wasn’t female.

A few of the boys who had danced with her at the party began to come around and talk with her, relating to her as the girl she was becoming and using her now well known feminine name. They were big and strong and she was small and weak, a fragile, feminine creature. It was quite an experience for her to be pursued by boys, flirted with, to be shown the courtesies a woman likes to receive, doors opened, packages and books carried, rides home from school. She didn’t really wear makeup to school although she did start to wear a little colored lip gloss that gave a sexy shine to her young lips. Whether she knew it or not, she had ‘come out’ as surely as if she had taken an ad in the school paper saying, “Keenan is dead. Long live Alecia. I’m a girl now” and had been accepted by both the boys and the girls. She now had two good girlfriends she pal’d around with. She walked like a girl. She talked and giggled like a girl. Her manner screamed girl at every turn and every step of her well turned ankles and she was no longer ashamed. She sang like a girl and she looked like a girl no matter what she did or didn’t wear. Her voice was pure soprano.

February 28: Keenan was a distant memory. It had only been two months since she had gotten all the pretty things but there was only room for one person in that little body now and Alecia wanted the space to grow and she literally evicted Keenan. And grow she did. She grew in knowledge as Aunt Rose taught her all the womanly crafts she knew including sewing and knitting and all about the thinking patterns of a female and how to cope with boys, although her ‘vitamins’ were complimenting that rather nicely too.

Her boy equipment became minuscule as she was chemically castrated and mentally converted. There was no area of femininity that was left out of Alecia’s education. She was no longer a size nine. She was a ten and her bosom has blossomed to a very full B cup by her 15th birthday on March 31 and she began to delight in wearing pretty, feminine blouses to school that showed off her charms with a little pendant nestling between them and pretty lingerie that showed through her tops and blouses. There was no longer any way that Keenan could go to school or that Alecia could go back to being Keenan. “Auntie, I can’t be Keenan any more. When I’m trying to be him, it’s like I’m wearing an outsized trench coat covering up the real me. It feels horrible. I HATE it.” “All right dear. Calm down. Perhaps I can do something to help.”

Aunt Rose had to intercede in behalf of Alecia with the school board. Of course, Alecia’s teachers weren’t blind either. Aunt Rose was a powerful woman in the community and by the middle of April, Alecia was in full bloom. Her records had been changed. She attended girl’s gym and feminine hygiene classes with the rest of the girls. Alecia went to school. Alecia was on the honor roll. Alecia was in the Glee Club and got a solo part with her clear and beautiful soprano voice. Alecia wore pretty skirts and blouses and dresses and flats and pumps and was every bit the young lady she had become through Aunt Roses careful coaching and nourishment of both spirit and body. Every stitch of Keenan’s wardrobe was given to charity. “Aunt Rose, why have I become a girl instead of a boy?” she innocently asked one day. Do some boys just turn into girls when they begin puberty?” I was SO naive! I thought all of this just “happened” like sometimes boys just turned into girls at puberty. What did I know? I didn’t really believe the vitamins could be the cause.” “Why, darling? Don’t you like being a girl?”

“Well, of course I like it. I LOVE it. I adore it. It’s wonderful. It’s more fun than I’ve ever had in all my life but how did it happen? I know I was just starting my puberty but I’m having girl puberty instead of boy.” “I’m sure it has something to do with your hormone balance dear. As long as you are happy and healthy, why worry?” “You’re right of course Auntie but do Mom and Dad know?” “It would be difficult for them NOT to know dear. If I didn’t tell them, another one of their friends certainly would.” “Then they don’t mind?” “It doesn’t seem so Alecia. They are the ones who gave me permission to apply for a name change for you as well as a change to female on your birth certificate. I think that pretty well sums it up.” “ I suppose SO! My heavens! Did you send them any pictures?” “Of course. They wrote back and said you were absolutely adorable, just like your mother was at your age.”

April 10: “Auntie, you’ll never believe it. Carl Simmons has asked me to the junior Prom next month. Can you believe it?” “Of course I can believe it dear. What boy wouldn’t want to date a lovely young thing like you. You’d have to check his pulse if he didn’t fancy you.” “May I go, PLEASE? He’s SO handsome and tall and everything. The other girls are just going to die when they see me on his arm.” “Yes, dear. You may go but you have to be in by midnight. Have you decided what style of gown you want to wear?” “No. I was hoping you’d go shopping with me. I’m not very good at it yet. I need more practice and I’m definitely not ready for a strapless, am I.” “Yes, you are dear and I’ll be happy to help. I’m sure we won’t find your dream dress right away so we can begin shopping any time you like. With a little padding underneath, you’ll look like a movie star.”

“Alecia, sweety, before the prom, I think we should have a little ‘girl’ talk.” “About what Auntie?” “Well, it’s quite obvious that you want to be a girl now and you have something on your body that is trying to prevent that.” “What?” “Those little jelly beans between your legs. Not only do they get in the way but they make chemicals that make your being a girl harder.” “Well, can’t we just get rid of them, you know, like tonsils?” “As a matter of fact dear, yes, and that is exactly how we can get rid of them. It will only take ten or fifteen minutes. Would you like that?” “Oh YES, Auntie. That’s where my boy juice comes from isn’t it?” “Yes, dear, a lot of it.” “Well, please help me lose them then Auntie. I don’t want anything interfering with my life as a girl.” “Alright dear. This Wednesday after school I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend just a little time at the doctor’s office, OK?” “Swell, Auntie. I love you. You’ve been so good to me I’m going to hate to have to leave you.”

Auntie took me to her gynecologist and she was right, just a little snip and a few painless stitches and it was all over. “Rose, I had no idea this niece of yours was really a nephew. She’s gorgeous.” There they went again, adults talking like we kids are not even in the room. “I was a bit hesitant about this but after seeing her, well…it would be a shame NOT to do this and that little penis is ridiculous too. Whatever are you going to do about THAT?”

“A bridge for crossing later Betty, unless, of course, you have connections in that area!. I just might Rosie. By the time she graduates, she’ll have lived over three years this way and passed the real life test. It may cost 10 or 15 thousand but I’m sure you can afford that.” “Of course.” “I’ll look into it. What have you got her on now?” “Well, she was on a blocker but now she’ll just be getting Estradiol and Premarin 1.25 twice a day.”

“How often for the shots?” “Twice a week.” “Cut it down to once for right now. At this age, she needs all those hormones rushing around but with the extra baggage, she won’t need as much. Her mind has turned completely, hasn’t it?” “Yes, she’s all girl and loves it.” “Amazing what can be done if we get them soon enough, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see how she matures. She’s pretty enough now for a fashion model. That can only get better. Well, we’re all done here young lady.” “Treat yourself kindly down there until you feel all healed up Alecia, and then just enjoy your new life.” “Come back and see me in a month for a checkup.” “Thank you doctor. I do enjoy it. I just LOVE it” I squealed.”

I was a bit sore on Thursday but wore a control panty and a pad and nobody ever knew it. I had to wear a napkin for a few days just in case I bled a little. Now there was a new experience. It was kind of neat having to wear a pad though, just like my other girlfriends. I didn’t tell any of my girlfriends either because I wasn’t ready for them to know that Keenan was really dead.

For some time I had been sitting to pee and it was just business as usual now. NOW I might even get away with a bikini. That really WOULD be fun this summer. I day dreamt of this hunk I had danced with, one who was still pursuing me. I could just see me lying face down on the beach. He would be undoing my straps and putting suntan lotion all over me, slowly, sensuously. Ooh, I just tingled thinking about him and that bikini. Well, it would have to wait. It was still cold outside. I could still have warm dreams though, couldn’t I?’

It was now APRIL and was beginning to warm up. Auntie took me on another wonderful shopping spree for summer things. It took DAYS to find and carry it all home and we did find the perfect prom gown. It was chiffon and lace and had a full skirt and showed off my charms deliciously with the built in shelf in the bra and in a light mint green too, one of my favorite colors. I was lucky to have such a generous Auntie and such a large walk in closet. Now that I was 15, she got me some more pretty 3 and 3 ½" heels in white and beige and cranberry to go with a new sheath mini dress. I’m afraid it was rather sexy, especially in heels. We got a white bikini that was very tantalizing and lacy satin lingerie and lightweight skirts, dresses, blouses and sun dresses and rompers.

I was so happy, I just wheeled around in my sandals and stood on my tip toes and kissed her full on the mouth. “You’re welcome darling,” she said. She knew what the kiss was for, the depth of what it really meant by the way it was delivered of course. It went far beyond that shopping trip. I never saw it coming because it was so subtle and yet, somehow, Aunt Rose had taken this ragamuffin boy and turned him into a princess. And, in the back of my mind, I just KNEW that SHE had done it on purpose. It was amazing how effortless it all seemed and now I couldn’t even think like a boy anymore. It was totally impossible. My thoughts were focused on school, shopping and boys, hair, nails and clothes and more boys. I knew that I still had that little vestige of maleness about me but it seemed so insignificant and was very easy to hide now. It would be less than two months until my parents were home from Europe to collect me and take me back to a neighborhood and a school where I wasn’t even known. At least, that’s what I thought.

Keenan was gone and I was legally Alecia now. I could go anywhere, but did I want to? I was quite comfortable at this school and was being pursued by handsome young men. It was one night when Aunt Rose and I were sitting quietly knitting when the phone rang. It was Daddy calling from Amsterdam.

“Alecia, is that you?” “Yes Daddy. I guess you didn’t recognize my voice.” “Well, no sweetheart. You sound like you are growing up, different, but you certainly sound happy too. I’m sure you are having a wonderful time there but I want you to think about something honey. Your mother and I would like you to come over here to Holland and spend the summer with us and we’ll all come back next August. Holland is a very special place honey and I’m sure you would love it.” “That sounds wonderful Daddy. Of course I’ll come. You work out the details with Aunt Rose, all right?” “Sure honey. Well take care of everything. Let me talk to her please.”

“Well, Rosie, I see you’ve done quite a job on Keenan. How long did it take?” “You know we can’t get into that now.” “Just tell me.” “About eight months.” “Well, her mother is going to be delighted. I take it she’s almost complete?” “Yes.” “Well, when she comes to stay with us, we’ll take care of the rest. Holland is a very gender friendly place and they do nice work here too. I knew you could do it. You always were a master at subtlety. I’ll make all the travel arrangements but you will have to take care of the passport and when she is out of school, you just have her ready for the trip, alright? You’ll see she has a nice wardrobe?” “Of course. She does already.” “Thank you Rosie. You’ve been a big help and Janice will be very grateful. We’ll make it up to you.” “No need. I’ve enjoyed having her here immensely. Quite an unusual challenge but an adventure too. I’m going to rather miss watching it all happen. It was a lovely, perverse kind of fun.”

The prom in May was everything it should have been and, as a freshman girl, Alecia was on top of the world. Her dance card was full and her date was attentive and actually got her home on time although they did spend a little time getting to know one another in the back seat of his buddy’s car where, let us say, that she was made to feel like a real girl as Carl’s tongue sought hers in a deep and passionate kiss before she was politely escorted to the front door and properly kissed goodnight. And then came final exams, always a joy, which she passed with very acceptable grades.

A few days later, she was as the airport with Aunt Rose immersed in a teary fair well. They had to pay extra for her baggage as there were four large suitcases. She was only 15 but the way she was dressed and made up, she looked at least 18. She wore a dark blue skirt suit with an above knee skirt showing off her full thighs, smooth knees and calves and a plunging neckline on both her blouse and the suit jacket combined with her push up bra served to advertise that she was all girl and proud of it. The young gentleman seated beside her was most appreciative of both her company for the trip and her attire. Too bad it was the Concord and would be such a short trip to London.

Alecia’s connecting flight got her into Amsterdam at 5:40PM and had it not been for the pictures Aunt Rose had sent, they wouldn’t have recognized her. To her parents, she was a vision they had hoped for 14 years ago when they adopted her/him.

Janice had wanted a girl so badly and that was understandable enough, considering that she had missed most of her own childhood.

There were hugs and kisses and tears of reunion and they had the porter carry her luggage out to the waiting limousine. “Well, Mommy, what do you think?” “I’m simply speechless Alecia. Your mom must have been gorgeous.” “But you ARE gorgeous Mom!” “I think it’s time you were told honey. We adopted you when you were a year old. Your real mom died in childbirth and we wanted a baby and I couldn’t have one so, here you are. Of course, I really wanted a little girl to dress and spoil but a boy was all that was available, so we took him. So tell us, how do you feel about all that’s happened to you in the last year and where do we go from here?”

“Mom, I don’t know how to even begin to explain it. Aunt Rose began to sand off the rough edges on me and it just seemed like one thing led to another and then there was a Halloween party and I was the belle of the ball and it was so much fun I didn’t want to stop even though I felt it was wrong of me to feel like that but after I asked Aunt Rose to double up on my vitamins, things were easier for me and I just sort of…evolved into Alecia.” “Well, darling, we have a confession to make. We like you better as our daughter anyway and speaking of that, have you thought about what you want to do with well, you know, the uh, leftovers…?” “Don’t be bashful Daddy.”

“I’d like to pour sulfuric acid on it but I’m sure that would hurt too much. Why?” “Well, here in Amsterdam there is a very famous doctor named Hans Bruckner and he can take that away and leave you complete, undetectable from your girlfriends. We were thinking that if that is what you would like, we can get it done and you will be all well and ready to go back to school in September complete in every way.” “Oh, COULD I DADDY?”

“Honey, you’re choking me. Yes, we can arrange it. Now, why don’t we just relax and tomorrow we’ll take you around and show you all the beautiful sights there are to see here. More tulips are shipped from here than anywhere in the world. We’ll take a boat trip through the canals. You’re going to love it.”

“Mom, you said you couldn’t have a baby. I don’t understand. How come?” “May I tell her?” “I think so darling.” “Alecia honey, when I was growing up, I was a lot like you and I was very lucky too.” “What do you mean Mom?” “ I mean honey, that I was a boy orphan too and taken home by someone else who had wanted a girl. We put you in Aunt Rose’s hands for that reason. She is responsible for how lovely you are. She is the one who helped you become a girl. Aren’t we lucky, the both of us to have been cared for by such talented and devoted people?” “I love you Mom and Daddy.” “We love you too sweetheart. We’ll call Dr. Bruckner tomorrow.” “Daddy, I have a really sweet friend who is sort of a boy and he’s an orphan too. Do you think maybe Aunt Rose would be willing to…?” “She seemed to have a wonderful time converting YOU honey. Do you really think your friend would like being a girl?” “Oh, I’m sure he would Daddy. When I showed him what I got for Christmas, he almost cried.” “Well, we’ll ask her when we get home, alright?” “Great! I think Gil would make a really cute Gillian. He even looks a little like that X-Files star.”

The end…for Alecia, but perhaps not for Gil!

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